| Welcome to Xmen Revolution. We hope you enjoy your visit. You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. Join our community! If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| Leave No Survivors; Wolf's Head Attack Team | |
|---|---|
| Topic Started: Sep 17 2008, 10:38 PM (4,018 Views) | |
| Toad | Sep 26 2008, 12:24 AM Post #16 |
|
Unregistered
|
[align=center]Mortimer felt happy, he was going to kill another person who was ordered to die, or that's what Toad thought. As the woman turned his his grasp, she seemed to look different. Nothing like the others that ran past them. Already knowing of her beauty, but something seemed different. Her eyes were amazing. Mortimer felt like he could gaze in them forever. Sadly, that time was gone. Toad's gaze was quickly stopped as a shrill voice was sounded through his mind. It was an odd feeling, one he was not common with. :You're worse than any mutant hating human could ever be.. You.. the brotherhood.. You're disgusting.. not because of the way you look... but because of what you're doing-:: Toad's grip weakened as the voice practically shocked him. Unsuspecting of it, the voice quickly subsided. He turned to his prey and figured it out. "Your a mutant....!" Toad spoke aloud. Boy did he pick a prize. He began to pull her in closer, seeing as how she really did not try to hard to get away, or perhaps she was just weak at the time. Luck Toad. He stood up straight and continued to pull her in. "A telepathic Mutant....what else can ya do?" He hissed to her coldly as she was now decently close.[/align] |
|
|
| Alix | Sep 26 2008, 01:04 AM Post #17 |
![]()
Telepathy, Telekinesis / Empathy
|
::I'm more of a mutant than you'll ever be.:: She muttered, her telepathic voice still vaguely distant sounding despite the fearful undertones that undermined whatever confidence she was able to gain in the situation. Clearly, he didn't quite get that she wasn't going to be just another victim to whatever massacre he and the rest of the brotherhood were taking part in. She might've felt what they all felt, even possibly seen the final moments of death but she wouldn't, no matter how hard it was, let that overwhelm her into giving up completely. ::I.. nothing else. I'm just.. just a telepath.:: She winced, leaning back as far as she possibly could from Toad. Barely, her eyes lowered to the ground, hardly able to look at him it seemed. That moment, however was suddenly lost into an attack on his mind- the most she could manage given the situation but still enough to at least give her a chance to get away. ::I.. I don't even see how you can do all of this... all these terrible things to innocent people.:: The attack stopped and she turned her attention to the crowds around them who were still, despite the struggle between the two mutants, managing to make it free. Really- that was all that mattered at this point.. letting as many as she could get through out. |
[align=center]![]() STRIKE ME DOWN SHOULD HAVE HELD IT ALL ALONE WASH THE QUESTION OFF MY HANDS I'M THE FATE IN NO ONES PLAN[/align] | |
![]() |
|
| Jason Matthews | Sep 26 2008, 02:38 AM Post #18 |
|
Unregistered
|
As the people started realizing that they were being killed and that they were ALL to be killed, for no discernable reason, chaos ensued. Chaos grew, fed on itself, and grew some more. For some of the brotherhood, that may have been a hindrance, but it made no difference to the Cutter. As he hung out of the window of now dead villagers, he slipped his switchblade back into his pocket. As he dropped from the second story window, two much smaller knives flashed into his hands as he joined the crowd. Nobody, in their crazed and desperate scurrying noticed the young boy. Nobody cared about one another as a blade, visible for only a second or two, lacerated the throat of one man after the other as Jason continued his rationalization. Carefully avoiding females (the Cutter had not enjoyed the last woman's screams), Jason weaved throughout the crowd, releasing an amphetamine as he did so. A better choice might have been Adrenaline, but that was for fighting. This was not a fight; it was a massacre. As of yet, nobody had put up much of a fight, but the amphetamine would keep him from getting himself trampled in the stampede and make sure he didn't lose focus amidst the madness. For the millionth time, Jason remembered everything he'd heard, from the Mastermind and from Magneto. He reminded himself why he was killing these people. This was not just a senseless mass murder, launched simply because a couple disgruntled mutants were bored. This was one of the beginning steps of a revolution. Through his and his teammates' actions today, they were helping mutants worldwide to gain the equality, respect, and freedom that was their birthright. He slashed another throat, then another, then a third. He could do this. He wasn't going to screw up. |
|
|
| Gambit(Matt) | Sep 26 2008, 01:02 PM Post #19 |
![]()
Kinetic Energy Manipulation, Empathic Charm
|
"Oi, Gambit, you left this behind." The Cajun stopped... a freshly-lit cigarette in his mouth. He'd been found out by none other than the guy in charge of this entire operation – Saint... one of Magneto's pit bulls. Gambit just stood there; he already knew that the family he'd just warned to leave was dead... it was Saint, after all, that had emerged from the house, and in his time with the Brotherhood, Saint creeped the Cajun out more than any of the others. He seemed to completely lack a conscience... and seemed almost more fanatical than even Magneto... if such a thing was possible. No... Saint was a dangerous customer. Remy kept his eyes focused on the gravel in front of him, his crimson eyes reflecting the light from the fire in the town square... he didn't even bother to acknowledge the fact that he'd been addressed by the Acolyte, except to pause in his steps. Suddenly, he heard something drop on the loose gravel and roll a couple of times before coming to a standstill directly behind him. Forcing himself to look, the Cajun finally turned to see the head of the man he'd just warned to leave; the thief's stomach was doing backflips, but the reaction never reached his face. He merely looked up at his superior... his unusual eyes emotionless. "Next time, finish the job we been given. We have orders to follow." “You get de kids too? There was two of 'em.” It didn't matter... they were already dead, and he knew it. Without waiting for a reply, he turned and strode away from the Saint, his eyes coming to rest on the familiar form of Callan, electricity dancing to a deadly tune around the lovely blonde. Gambit's eyes narrowed as he looked around. If Static were here, there had to be others. “Saint,” he called over his shoulder as he took off at a run toward Callan, “We got company!” Brandishing three playing cards, the Cajun charged them until the glowed brilliantly in the dark, then tossed all of them directly at the X-Man. He'd see how well Wolverine had been training the young woman soon enough. |
[align=center] [/align]
| |
![]() |
|
| Static | Sep 26 2008, 11:31 PM Post #20 |
|
Unregistered
|
"Saint, we got company!" That voice sounded familiar. Very familiar. When Callan turned to see whom it had come from, she saw none other than Remy "Gambit" Lebeau running her way. Was this just going to keep getting more bizarre? Not too long ago he was on her side of things. It took her much longer than it should have to react, but she moved just in time once she saw Remy toss three glowing cards in her direction. This guy wasn't messing around. Having left herself barely enough time to avoid Gambit's cards, Cal's only choice was to dive to her left. She hit the street hard, catching herself on her hands. As she scrambled to her feet, her eyes never left the Cajun who had once been an ally to her. She knew that if she missed one of his attacks it could easily be fatal. Remy was fast and accurate. She'd have to be unnaturally fast to keep avoiding his attacks. Knowing that the probability of her evading everything he threw at her was slim to non-existant, the only option seemed to be preventing him from attacking at all. Of course, she hadn't spent much time figuring out how to counter the man's powers. For a while it seemed like a complete waste of time to worry about the best way to take out her teammates, but now it seemed to be the difference between life and death. Now, this was a serious bitch. When she threw herself onto the street, the sparks erupting around her ceased, but when she finally got to her feet, Callan raised her marred hands and shot spider-like bolts of white lightning out of her fingers in Remy's direction. It didn't take much for her to kill a man, but that mostly depended on accuracy. Using more energy could make accuracy a lot less important, but that strategy had the potential to leave her severely weakened in a matter of minutes. It looked as though she was alone on an island full of enemies, so that didn't seem like such a good idea. By starting currents using external electrons, she could lessen the potential damage to herself, but that also made it more difficult for her to control the currents. Knowing this, Cal immediatley chose to opt for a fairly simple attack. It certainly had the potential to do a bit more than socks on a carpet, but she wasn't sure that it would stop the advancing Cajun even if it hit its mark as intended. . . and he was an energy manipulator. What if none of this worked at all? |
|
|
| Toad | Sep 27 2008, 06:39 AM Post #21 |
|
Unregistered
|
[align=center]Toad grinned at the woman. So, all she did was read minds? That was all? A little misread at first, but Toad was rather......unhappy with the prey he had proudly snagged turning out to be a Mutant, and being as weak as a Human. How disappointing. Toad's deep yellow eyes squinted into a snared glare. She was weak.....worthless. The world today needs power. Without it you are nothing, nothing but a bug under one's shoe. Toad nearly felt pity for the woman, till she began to enter his mind once again. His grip on her arm quickly began to loosen. His tongue retracted back to his mouth and his teeth clenched in annoyance. ::I.. I don't even see how you can do all of this... all these terrible things to innocent people.:: The woman's voice rang throughout his mind. To him, it nearly felt like nails to glass. Not that he hated the sound, just at the time, it was oddly spine chilling. Mortimer growled at the woman, seeing her attention facing the other people who were meant to die by the Brotherhood's hands. Toad creeped closer to the woman as she stood in watch, waiting to get as many people out as possible. He hissed to her and began to retort to her latest response. "I am sorry for not pointing out the near obvious, but the Brotherhood has been ordered to finish off this lame island. Shame you, a Mutant, had to be here...If I am, WHY are you here?" He asked with a evil grin as he made his way around the woman. His hands nearly grasping her into a hold. He was unsure what to do with her, but he decided to only paralyze the woman, not to kill her. She was a Mutant after all, and that was about the only other thing in his life he respected. [/align] |
|
|
| Camera | Sep 27 2008, 07:02 AM Post #22 |
|
Unregistered
|
Arterial spray was a bitch. Camera repeated that to her self through out the night. Having finished her task quickly the blonde exited out of the last house. Looking down at the line of houses as she wiped the sides of a knife on the side of her jeans she looked like something out of a serial killer movie. Even with the sadistic smile on her face. Reflecting on the people she had just killed in the house she couldn’t help but wonder if the kids she had just killed would grow up to be mutants. Shrugging it off the blonde made her way back up the street. Some of the houses were on fire, thanks to her cocktails, and soon enough the whole line of houses would be aflame. Her task was done. Camera showed up in time to see Saint with a head in his head. Raising an eyebrow she spoke out to him, “Saint, my task is done. Maybe we should wrap this up before Sentinels come crawling up our asses.” Just then out of the corner of her eye the blonde saw a woman with crackling electricity around her. Gambit went to deal with that. “Or before more heroes show up.” She paused. Knowingly murdering a mutant was not something that was told to do. As far as she knew everyone on Wolf’s Head was human. Camera wasn’t about to kill mutants. “I thought there were no mutants here.” She paused again and started to walk off. “I’m not killing mutants, I’m going home.” The photographic mutant did what she was told, and with Razorback’s chainsaw as a weapon of choice she had a desire to get back to Murderworld and watch Dawn of the Dead. Camera knew that if they didn’t finish up they would be dealing with a whole mess of Sentinels. And a SHIELD prison; was not something she had in mind to end the night with. The blonde started to walk off. Then she came across one of the other members, Toad, with a young girl. The girl looked familiar. A few times she’s be watching her older sister Jet at her head quarters. From what she could tell the dark haired girl didn’t talk much. But whatever she did Camera was sure they could find some use for her. Hearing Toad talking to her from a distance she called out, “Toad!” She walked closer to him and continued, “She doesn’t live here. She a member of X-Factor. As for why she’s here, who cares? Bring her along… we may have a use for her later.” The photographic mutant smirked. |
|
|
| Alix | Sep 27 2008, 07:28 AM Post #23 |
![]()
Telepathy, Telekinesis / Empathy
|
He might've thought her weak or even possibly unworthy of being called a mutant; whatever it was that he thought she was he was wrong. She could, if she'd wanted, destroyed him. Ripped his mind from him and destroyed everything he knew. But she would never. She was not the brotherhood, nor was she a murderer. Even still, she wasn't capable of that now. Her mind was jumbled and distracted with all of those around her. ::I came to buy a panting for a friend.. he panted it but.. he's forgotten.:: Her gaze flicked nervously to his hands as he snaked around her; involuntarily she shuttered, strange eyes raising to the crowds before once again suddenly darting to a new addition to the strange encounter. Another brotherhood member; another worthless murderer. Her gaze narrowed silently before she inched away from Toad just a bit more as Camera spoke. What she said, of course more than caught her attention. Take her back? Useful? ::You will not.:: She muttered stubbornly before delivering yet another telepathic attack- this time directed towards both Camera and Toad. The same moment she turned to run- surprisingly fast despite the way things were going. She didn't care where- she didn't care how far or which direction; all she really knew was that of all the people in the world she would not let this Toad, Camera, or any other brotherhood do anything. |
[align=center]![]() STRIKE ME DOWN SHOULD HAVE HELD IT ALL ALONE WASH THE QUESTION OFF MY HANDS I'M THE FATE IN NO ONES PLAN[/align] | |
![]() |
|
| Toad | Sep 27 2008, 04:39 PM Post #24 |
|
Unregistered
|
Toad nearly had the woman in his grasp. He was planning to numb her to the point of no movement, so he could carry one with his job. He prepared to shoot his numbing slime to her limbs, yet was quickly interrupted by the one known as Camera. "Damn..." He was caught. Another woman. Toad just tilted his head to her and grinned. "Aww, I'm only having a bit of fun. Heh. But maybe she will prove useful...." He looked back at her and began to reach for her and do the numbing process... but was interrupted once again.... ::You will not.:: The voice ordered quickly and sent a shot of pain through his head. The pain was like a trail of needles, running throughout your mind. Toad winced back and held his head. "Dammit!" Toad hissed in annoyance and anger. "Damn Bitch!" He roared as he did his best to keep his eyes on his prey. She ran from the scene with mild haste. He could tell, her only goal was to try and distract them from the rest. Well, no matter, their job will be completed, as ordered. Toad felt like he had failed, but it was not all over yet. He straightened his stance and kept one hand to his head, still feeling the effects from the telepathy attack. "Nrg!......Should we still go after her?!" He asked in more of a demanding tone. He wanted to do what he intended to do from, with no distractions. |
|
|
| Black Tom | Sep 27 2008, 06:36 PM Post #25 |
|
Unregistered
|
Apparently the figure that Tom had seen lurking in the shadows was an enemy forming some sort of attack. This was backed up by the fact that Gambit called out, “We got company!” Gambit strode across the ground quickly. Another figure had appeared, another girl. She was blonde and quite attractive. Gambit let loose a flurry of cards that exploded around the woman. She dodged out of the way. This blonde turned out to be a mutant. She was throwing electricity around like it was an extension of her body. Tom didn’t know if who she was but she was putting a hindrance on the completion of their job. Besides, a bolt strong enough would fry the Cajun like bacon and Tom owed Remy a favor for saving his life at the airport. Off to one side Tom saw Toad and Camera with the shadowy figure he had seen. This also turned out to be a young girl with black hair. From what Camera had called out this girl was a member of X-Factor. That was definitely bad. X-Factor would definitely try to put a stop to their operation. After a short scuffle, the dark haired girl broke away and began to run and Toad asked, "Nrg!......Should we still go after her?!" Tom was fit but years of unfiltered hand-rolled cigarettes dictated that he would not be running any marathons. He’d learned that during his escape from the airport. There were two predicaments presenting themselves to Tom. He raised his shillelagh and sent a blast after the girl trying to escape. “We should try to take them all out!” he called out. He then turned his attention to the fight between Gambit and the electrokinetic. If one X-Factor member was here, there could be others. This blonde mutant could be a member as well. Her electric attacks were dangerous and she definitely needed to be taken out. Tom fired a double blast in her direction. He then hurried over but tried to keep a safe distance from the electricity. He let loose another blast in the blonde’s direction as he approached. “Sorry, lass. You aren’t killing any of us tonight,” Tom said. |
|
|
| Jason Matthews | Sep 27 2008, 11:01 PM Post #26 |
|
Unregistered
|
As time passed, Jason was find it easier and easier to console himself. What he was doing was for the greater good. The people dropping around him would help make the Brotherhood dream of equality for mutants, a reality. One small step forward, but a vital one. He remembered his orders. He and his teammates were to kill everybody on the island. Jason took the omission of specifics regarding mutants to mean that they were not exempt. He could hear the bickering regarding the mutant woman even as he slashed through another man's throat, and found it rediculous. Their orders were not to bring anybody back. Their orders were not to let a woman run because she was a mutant. Their orders were, explicitly, to leave no survivors. Why, all of a sudden, where they questioning that? If they let the woman live, or escape, or if they took her back with them, that would be leaving a survivor. The logic was quite simple, and Jason couldn't understand how others took it to be so complicated. Jason huffed, then extracted himself from the mess of bodies, living and dead. By the time they were through arguing, the woman would have fled, or notified somebody. But apparently they were held too tightly by their emotions to carry out the task at hand. He too had reservations about killing people for no discernable reason, but he pushed himself, forced himself beyond simple doubt and done his job, regardless of his feelings. Why couldn't these people, all of them supposed to be his senior, if only in age, do the same? "Apparently, age does not equal maturity." He spoke loud enough so that they hopefully would hear him, though he didn't strain. They should be ashamed of themselves that, to them, a child had to step in and do their job for them. Cutter adjusted his grip on one of his knives, took careful aim, and threw it. His arm was not off. If uninterrupted, the four inch blade would spin twice, then embed itself in the female mutant's neck. |
|
|
| Alix | Sep 28 2008, 08:27 PM Post #27 |
![]()
Telepathy, Telekinesis / Empathy
|
Tom's blast connected with the middle of her back, easily knocking her over into the street. Never before had she really missed her usual mission or even normal attire more than she did now in her out of place fancy dress. The shawl long forgotten, the black fitted dress now nothing more than a grimy mess. From the ground, things looked grim. Anyone else might've listened to the ache and pain that radiated from where the blast had connected, or even to the countless minds that if given the chance, could've dragged her down into unconciousness. She was loosing quickly; that much was clear, bu this was Alix. She'd never just loose without a struggle, nor would she make it easy for anyone to win. Within near miliseconds she stood, shakily keeping her eyes down as she listened to them talking- a distant, yet close feeling conversation that yielded a younger and far more controllable element moved forwards. A kid. Younger than her. They made children kill? Like this? ::You're nothing more than a pawn.:: She didn't look at Cutter, one hand barely holding her elbow where she'd landed on the pavement after the blast from Tom. He didn't deserve to be looked at. ::No one will respect you after tonight. You will have no equality and no freedom. I will have it, my team will have it. The community will love us for what we are, but you will still be nothing more than a murderous monster that deserves far worse than anything you people dreamed up for the people here tonight. You're not a mutant. You don't deserve the honor of being such.:: At this point, her words were all she really had to attack with- she had just barely enough strength for a few more minor telepathic attacks, but not much. The Brotherhood, the dying and dead around her were keeping her focus and control flighty; really it was a wonder she could even do that much, especially at her age. When he released the knife, she finally turned and jumped, raising her arm with reflexes that only came from a great deal of practice in using that motion to raise barriers; there would be no barriers tonight, but if the knife impaled into her arm she'd still be alive. She jumped, however, when suddenly the blond woman's hand was in front of her own- bloody and suddenly so painful- she winced, strange black and white eyes closing momentarily before turning her eyes to Cutter. Suddenly, his own mind would erupt into his own especial telepathic attack; not at all completely desecrating, but at least to disorient him enough that maybe- just maybe- she could get away. Toad and Tom it seemed were now focused onto Static who she felt more than bad about calling her into this, even if it had been necessary. The attack wasn't even finished when she turned again to run- limping but still with enough desperation and determination left to keep her going. Without a second's thought she turned her attention to the small alley between a diner and a clothing shop and quietly hid in the far back corner between a small storage closet and a stack of crates. There was nothing to do now but hide- no where else to go. she couldn't keep running circles around the island and she didn't even really remember where her small mo-ped was at anyways. Not that it would've done any good at this point. The most she could savor- the most she could cling to for hope was the notion that the art gallery owner was still alive. She'd saved at least one of the residents and while it really didn't mean that much in the long run... it was the most she could do. |
[align=center]![]() STRIKE ME DOWN SHOULD HAVE HELD IT ALL ALONE WASH THE QUESTION OFF MY HANDS I'M THE FATE IN NO ONES PLAN[/align] | |
![]() |
|
| Warren Worthington | Sep 28 2008, 11:55 PM Post #28 |
|
Unregistered
|
When the telepathic message from Alix had come in, the X-Men at the Mansion had been rather thin on the ground, with Scott on the SHEILD Hellicarrier so Warren had gathered those he could. Since the FOH mission they had learned to always leave a portion of the Senior X-Men at the Mansion and so that, coupled with the fact they were very limited on time, left only Warren, Banshee, Logan and Skin heading in the Jet towards Wolf's Head. With a team of four, it didn't take long for everyone to get suited and to the Hanger, an even shorter time passing before the Jet was slicing through the cold night air towards Wolf's Head. A frown of concentration creased Warren's forehead as he checked the ETA, which was know less than ten minutes, the distance between the small town and the Mansion greatly decreased by the speed of the Jet. He really had no idea what they were going into, seeing as Alix hadn't given them any information beyond the basics but a basic plan was already formed. Ideally he would have liked to have at least double or even triple the current team, but circumstances were against them. They would just have to find a way of taking down the Brotherhood and hope that some kind of back up would appear at some point in the not too distant future. "Not long now, we're going to be over the town in roughly two minutes." He took a breath and looked at the small team. "We're limited in numbers, I know, but the plan is to split up. Banshee and I forming an aerial attack, Skin and Wolverine on the ground." He glanced towards the man in the co-pilot seat, giving him a brief nod. "Once Banshee and I are clear, Logan, take the Jet into land. There is a suitable area just on the edge of the town, the co-ordinates are already keyed in. Unfortunately, we have little idea of what we're getting into here, or how many of the Brotherhood are involved, so we're going to have to play it by ear and keep in contact. There will probably be civilians and the first priority is to get them to safety. We can deal with the Brotherhood afterwards." "She's all yours. Good luck." Warren told Logan and with that, he rose to his feet, picking up his sheathed swords and strapping them to his back. He looked at Banshee and indicated towards the back of the plane so the other man would follow. Once they were both through the cabin, Warren pressed the button which would close the door and leave the cabin unaffected by the hatch which was starting to open. Reaching behind him, to the back of neck, Warren tugged up the hooded mask which covered half his face and stepped out on to the ramp. "Ready for this?" He called to Banshee over the sound of jet engines and rushing wind. Below lay Wolf's Head, illuminated only by sporadic fires and barely visible in the darkness, but even up here the occasional terrified screams reached his ears. Warren stepped further down the ramp and then leapt out into the cold air, wings tight against his body as he plummeted down waiting for the right moment to steady and control his descent by unfurling his wings. He glanced behind him to see if Sean was out as well before speaking into his comm link. "We're clear Wolverine." He said briefly as he began his fast sweep over the village, trying to gauge the current situation. Sparks erupted down below, giving him a initial target and some illumination, followed by an all too familiar explosion, his jaw tightening at the site. Gambit. Swooping lower, it didn't take his keen eyes long to figure out the basics of the situation; two against one, Gambit and another Brotherhood member facing off against Callan. He didn't know where she had come from, but that didn't matter for the moment, another person was always an advantage as long a one of the two men didn't take her down first. Raising one hand, he drew one of his blades, the metal glinting briefly in the firelight as he darted through the air, powerful wings propelling him almost as fast as he could go. Warren's pace only slowed when he dropped down low and was almost on top of the group. The sword he was carrying slashed out in an attempt to slice through the branch the unknown man carried and released blasts of energy from. His other arm circled around Callan's waist, pulling her tight into his body as he swept her out of the way of the blast. He felt the impact glance off the tip of one wing but he kept flying, low and fast, setting her down finally some distance from the Brotherhood members. "Static, quickly, I need to know what's going on. How many of the Brotherhood are here? Do you know if there are any survivors?" He landed as he spoke quickly, to be less conspicuous but drew his other sword, wings spread and ready to whisk him up into the air. He had been torn between capitalising on the advantage of surprise he had on Gambit and the other BH member and getting any information Callan could possibly give him about what was going on. "Have you seen Alix?" It was a few questions all in one go, but he didn't have time to be nice about it. He needed the answers so he could tell the others and then get back in the air as soon as possible. |
|
|
| Logan | Sep 29 2008, 09:12 AM Post #29 |
|
Unregistered
|
[okay, my spellcheck is fail on this comp so sorry if it's strewn with spelling mistakes.] Logan took the controls with a nod in Warren's direction. He didn't look it, but the playboy was a person Logan wouldn't mind fighting with. His plan was good. They were a strike force, not an army. If they stayed together entirely they made a bigger target. Alone they could be mobile. Of course, they were still a team but right now if they stacked themselves up to the enemy they were outnumbered. Best to take them out one at a time, particularly if they were just expecting token resistance from some upset rebuplicans who had hunting rifles. Logan could guess that the BH wasn't ready for them, and he planned to take advantage of that. His words to skin were simple as he landed the Jet. "Alright, they know we're here but they weren't expecting us so try to be as cheap and fight as dirty as you can. If you see someone who doesn't see you, fuck him up before he does, if you're getting the crap kicked out of you live to fight another day bub. This is officially war, and the only rule is to win," Logan opened the hatch and made his way too it, "Good hunting." It certainly smelled like war. Sounded like it too. Real war. Not the kind you see on TV. It wasn't complete, he could still retreat to a place that felt safe but for now this little town had turned into a war zone. This would only be the start, he knew. There was a voice, a quiet but disturbing voice in the back of his head that said that it would be better if there weren't any survivors now that it had started. If there were, the story would get out and it would be that mutants wiped out a town. This would definitely scare people. People who lived in quiet, peaceful towns would feel the cold arbitrary hand of death. They weren't safe. They weren't going to be overlooked because their town was insignificant. Mutants now saw fit to terrorize everywhere and their town could be next. Knees would jerk, laws would be passed and the doomsday clock would tick one moment closer to midnight. Logan pushed these thoughts out of his mind. That was the kind of thinking that got a person on the other side of this conflict. The slippery slope of justifying yourself on taking an innocent life because it serves a greater good. Logan had taken the lives of the innocent, but he would no more. It was not his place to judge the right of others to draw breath or not. He wasn't sure who's place it was, but it wasn't his an it certainly wasn't magneto's. His nose caught a familiar wiff of someone else who's place it definitely wasn't to decide life and death. The scent was distinctive, it stuck out. Probably the scales. Logan was on the hunt now, weaving through the town. He darted through houses and yards with disregard. This wasn't the time to worry about breaking and entering laws. He could hear the terrified shudderings of one family in the closet, but paid them no mind until a man burst from their hiding spot, emptying a 9mm clip at Logan's general direction. He actually hit him with two or three, causing Logan to take a step back. With a *snikt* he popped his claws and dug two bullets out of his chest while the other one popped out of his shoulder as part of the healing process. Sometimes they could get stuck between the ribs and his body would have a tough time getting them out. His claw sheathed and he turned to the man who was staring in wide eyed panic. "Reload and go back in your closet. Don't try to run they're watching the ways off the island. Stay here, hide and pray to whatever god you want. Don't come out, and if you see anyone in these uniforms don't shoot them. We're here to help you." Logan continued to follow the scent. Gunfire was gong off all over the place so hopefully it wouldn't give him away. He came across several dead bodies in the scent's wake, and even the hardened soldier had to stop and close the eyes of a boy, wide with fear and pain before his death. How could people do this? Even at his most debautched... His mind focused on the situation at hand, and his feet ran toward his prey. He could see him now, and his claws exited their sheaths slowly and silently this time. The snikt was nice, but Logan wanted to surprise the man if he could. He wasn't sure he'd be able to. If he turned his head he woudl see the charging feral, but Logaon was every confident in his regeneration. The guy would stand and fight and die. That was Logan's goal as his fists struck out to stab him. His stride was uninterrupted, and he let out a feral yell with his strike. "Rrrrrraaaaaaaggh!" Logan was not in his rage entirely, but Primal had better not mistake him for some kind of teenage wannabe hero with qualms about cutting off the heads of child killers. He wasn't aiming for the head though. No, he was going for a body shot. A quick jerk of the neck and Logan was out of the element of surprise. A torso was much harder to move. Middle of the chest, and if the fucker stayed completely still three claws would rip through his lungs and puncture his heart. It was nice to not have to worry if your weapons were sharp enough. |
|
|
| Primal | Sep 29 2008, 12:34 PM Post #30 |
|
Unregistered
|
Chaos reigned around the Island, and it smelt like horror and terror and death wrapped in the entrails of those who had already fallen. Smoke curled into the night and swept itself down through the streets, smogging vision and coating existence with patches of thick, murky fog. Echoes in the darkness were infused with the cries of those begging for their life and the thunderclaps of gunfire interrupting them. Aside from the near choking fumes, the smoke didn’t even register to Primal, who saw through it all with the clarity of a snake on the hunt, and even though it clogged into his nasal passageways and settled heavily at the back of his throat, he paid it little attention. Right now he didn’t really want to pay much attention to anything at all, just to get this shit over with and get the fuck out of there. Let the Hellfire Club bitches do their little cleanup job. Twisted fucks would probably enjoy it. Something familiar snuck through the tumult of scents, something that snaked about and pulled Primal’s focus away from the blur of faces, away from the sensation of blood trickling along his scales and dripping from his fingerclaws; it was that wild-edged, furiously predatorial presence, the same kind of nocturnal torrent that cut over everything else during midnight hours. It was him, that fucker from the mansion, the one that smelt of too much adrenaline and testosterone. …And beer. So the good guys were here, the human asslickers with their superior morals and self righteous ideals and happy clappy bullshit. Great. Time to show them exactly how superior their morals really were. Primal tracked the Wolverine’s movement from pheromones alone, body wiring into a tenser stance, head canting so that he barely appeared even half human any more. Thermal vision didn’t really help right now- there were splashes of colour everywhere, some quickly fading into brown smudges, others pulsing hotter and colder, but most of it was a rainbow drift of life and death in technicolour. There was a sudden warmsnap of something like missing a heartbeat, and two seconds later a furious howl joined the hellish chorus. A cold smile drifted across Primal’s features, humourless and as icy as the surrounding waters of the Atlantic, but it rested there as he twisted on his heel-- twisted to meet the feral that leapt towards him with deadly confidence, both individuals’ claws brandished, ready to cleave flesh. That smile contorted into a semi-smirk; the reptilian launched forward, deftly sidestepping to avoid the full brunt of the strike-- fuck it if it glanced off an arm, right? Stupid asswipe didn’t have a clu- Primal’s eyes flew wide as Wolverine’s claws buried deep into his bicep like knives through soft cheese. A choked gasp caught in his throat and he slammed a foot towards the Canadian’s chest in an attempt to both lever himself away and gouge a vicious laceration past pectoral muscle and into ribcage. Initially he had been planning to slash the fucker’s throat, but shock and surprise at the ease of which Wolverine had broken through his scaled armour sent him leaping backwards several times to reassess and gather himself. What the fuck?? That shouldn’t have happened…those weapons should have been harmlessly deflected… The pain that seared through his arm was enough to bring anger bubbling up like a simmering geyser towards the surface, ready to erupt at any given moment- he still hadn’t experienced an all out bloodrage; what had transpired in Afghanistan had been intense, but a few inches yet from full-blown. The screaming that resonated around them though, the thick, sickly sweet scent of blood, the pain that drenched the air and sunk through skin and bone, and now this guy and his fucking physics-denying bionic blades… Adrenaline kicked in like an injection of PCP. Milliseconds passed in the space between the slash and Primal’s retreat. In the very next moment he had bolted forward, leaping at his full sixty-four kilometres per hour, common sense all but left at the door. All he had to do was avoid those motherfucking claws… At the last moment the reptile zagged, mutation lending him agility to marvel at, contorting around to Wolverine’s back, where he aimed a razorsharp lunge for the feral’s spine…for the space in between vertebrae where spinal column ran northwards. If it severed that fibrous rope like so much skeins of cord, the Canadian would be down and paralysed…a useless lump of flesh. Of course, Primal wasn’t yet aware of his enemy’s healing factor… |
|
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| Go to Next Page | |
| « Previous Topic · United States Archives · Next Topic » |











8:15 AM Jul 11