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Leave No Survivors; Wolf's Head Attack Team
Topic Started: Sep 17 2008, 10:38 PM (4,016 Views)
Toad
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Toad just sighed off, trying to ignore the remaining pain that was still remained from the woman's first attack. His worn shoes crunched the roof pebbles as he made his way to the edge. He looked back to the girl and sighed. She was pretty, but was a bit...odd. But what was he to think? He was the oddest of them all, and perhaps more.

A wet and cold wind began to pick up. "Neh." He grumbled as he prepared to deal with regretting not wearing fully enclosed gloves on this mission. He hated it when his fingers grew cold during a battle. it was hard to use them. That numb feeling. He hated it. Suddenly, his thoughts were stopped by that same voice again. He jumped immediately after the voice began and glared at the girl. "What can you do?! Your just a- Hgn!" Toad's sentience was interrupted by a oddly painful throbbing that resided towards the front of his head. "Nrgh!" His squinted eyes opened quickly and saw the woman was doing her best to concentrate on him, sending some kind of a ray to him.

"N-not again! Not this time, Bitch!" Toad, now angered and annoyed, stomped up to the fallen girl. His eyes squinted, not by complete anger, but in pain. He walked up to her backside and sent a foot to her head and another to her neck. He watched as her body finally fell limp.

He got to his feet and held his head with his right hand. "God Dammit...this is gonna be one hell of a night for me....ugh.." He began to pace around , his feet shuffling in thought. If he recalled, he was meant to take in a few people...maybe this was one of them? Mortimer looked to the unconscious girl and sighed. Well, might as well. She was out cold, not gonna wake up for a long time. He knelt down to her and hoisted her onto his right shoulder. She was quite light. So it meant an easy trek back. With a stomp of his feet, he leaped off the building and landed perfectly to his feet in the side streets. "Now.....where to go...?" Sadly, in all the commotion, Toad was now lost in the chaotic maze of buildings and scared people. "Ah shit.." With that,. Toad annoyingly began his walk, maybe to meet up with more Brotherhood. Hopefully no dreaded X-Men.
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Buford Hollis
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Mechanical Hyper-Competence
Razorback was raisin' hell. Literally. He was on the southern edge of the island when he saw the steeple. A candle in the window meant someone was there. Leave no survivors. Church as a sanctuary was a human concept. The God of the Brotherhood wasn't no white-bearded dude in the sky. The God of the Brotherhood had tentacles, energy blasts and telepathy. His prophet was a magnetic Holocaust survivor. The lord works in mysterious ways.

The church was empty and silent except for grinding whirl of Razorback's chainsaw. The chaplain was silently sitting, praying to the dead God of the apes. "Are you one of them?" The chaplain said, not even turning to face him, "One of those devils."

"No, my brother in Christ, I ain't a devil. I reckon I'm much scarier," Razorback responded, "I'm a mutant."

The chaplain went quietly. He didn't lose his head, which was actually kind of ironic considering what Buford did to him. Razorback searched the small church for any other sapes. He didn't find any other humans but he did find the Pastor's quarters. It looked like the pastor kept some liquid courage. Nice brand of scotch. Razorback checked to make sure no one was watching, and sneaked the bottle under his jacket.

He walked out of the church to see a female sape. She was shaking and scared, holding a pistol. "Lets calm down, honey," The mutant said, holding his chainsaw aloft. "Let's just keep our he-"

She didn't let him finish. BANG! A hard piece of metal ripped through Buford's left arm. It was damn .22. Buford never had been shot before, but damn if it didn't hurt. It was much worse than his pig's head shock, which he had tested on himself. It knocked him on his sizable hindquarters.

She pulled the the trigger again. She must have fired the gun before. She must have done five times before, since nothing happened. Razorback was hurtin' but he wasn't gonna let a sape get the best of him. He stood back up and slashed her throat with his stopped chainsaw. She gurgled and fell to the ground.

For the sake of the reader, we won't get into what Razorback did to her with that chainsaw after that.
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Juggernaut
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He was in the zone! When he finally came to a stop, he turned around, the earth trembling with each step, and he looked through the series of buildings and houses he had crashed through. An almost perfect tunnel. He could almost see through the pillars and collumns of twisted, splintered wood, brick, and metal all the way to the very spot he started. His mentality had drifted from the latent hatred for his brother to sheer enjoyment of running through things. What could he say, he was the Juggernaut. What else could he enjoy? He didn't care for the killing that was going on, he didn't care for the murder. He cared for the blissful knowledge that he could run through anything.

Unstoppable!

He rampaged through the town, forgetting his need to support his teammates, ruining everything he came across. Not once did he lay a hand on any person purposely. If they happened to be standing in the area where he charged through, it sucked for them. He wasn't going to stop for anything. He was the Unstoppable Juggernaut! Once his mind was set on something, there was no factor that was going to stop him. All who were in his way were just fodder for pleasure. His pleasure.

Rotating a shoulder cockily, he hummed a tune that drowned out the sounds of the citizen's screams, fighting the noise with his own verbal thrumming. It was a safe bet that a crapton of people were already dead by now. It was only a matter of time before the rest died to the wrath of the Brotherhood.

Cain moved along through an alleyway, his arm lifted as he caught the corner of a building. He dragged it through, bending timbers, splintering joints, shattering walls, until a great ditch was carved into the side of it. When he broke through the corner of the building, he turned, arm remaining in the building. He walked down this side, humming to himself, until he reached the final end of his journey with the building. Tearing through the last support, the roof's weight began to collapse the building, a groaning creek audibly shaking the ground. It collapsed in a heap, crushing whatever had been underneath the sheltering tomb.

As the building behind him collapsed, he turned onto an avenue that allowed him a clear view through the portholes of his helm of the battles going on down the road. Some people were fighting back -- the echo of gunshots made his helmet shiver -- mutants were fighting mutants. He could barely make out the figures fighting together down the road.

"Piss," he cursed. "I always get left outta the fun things." Cain grumbled, his brow sweaty from moving around, crashing through buildings, and the ride here. He was lucky his battlesuit was as breezy as it was. Every nook and cranny of his body showed through the thin yet highly durable material. Every bit of him was shown. He didn't even try to hide the buldge at the apex of his legs.

Cain charged forward towards the ground, the ground trembling with every heavy step of his feet. It was the first sign that Cain was charging. Whomever happened to be ahead of him, both friend and foe, would feel the earth shake with the oncoming colossus. The second sign was his great voice booming over the fray, his cry of bloodlust sending him towards the cluster of mutants. It didn't matter who was in his way; he wasn't going to stop for anyone.

Only problem was... he didn't know who he was charging.
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Logan
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Logan could see the surprise on the face of the... kid? Well, he was an adult, but Logan's sense of smell told him he defintely hadn't hit 25 yet. Hell, Logan would guess him 20 or 21 if he had to guess. When you are 21 you think you're pretty badass, but to Logan that's a kid. Wasn't going to stop him from guttin' him though. He was old enough to know what he was doing.

Logan's claws knew no difference from scale or skin, cutting through even the tough armor easily. There wasn't many materiels that Logan couldn't cut through. Some metals required a little bit of leverage, maybe a good swing but Primal's scales did not fall under that category. Push his blades to them and they'd cut. The reptilian clearly wasn't used to this, but had good reactions. He didn't just stand there and go "Oh, I got cut. Huh." Logan felt the kick and knew imediately that those legs were not just for show. Wolverine was thrust backwards, almost losing his balance. He felt the wounds close up, Logan felt pain, but he had no reason to pay attention to it. Pain kind of loses it's meaning after you've been lit on fire. More than once. The pause was momentary after the first exchange, both of them eager to go at it again. Damn, this kid could jump. He could move too. Logan had prepared himself for the superhuman speed, but being ready mentally and being ready are two different things. Logan's claw reached out to clothesline him but struck air. Wolverine was already twisting to absorb the blow he knew was coming. It was aimed at his spine, which woulc of course do him no good. It impaled his side insteac, but as Logan twisted the claw came out and Logan's came straight at his face. The wound inflicted would take longer to heal than the superficial muscle wound that had been inflicted earlier, but Logan could fight just fine while it did. It would only take about 10 seconds more, but in combat that's the difference between life and death. Having your face clawed in by adamantium claws, however, was just straight up death.
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Warren Worthington
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" I- I don't know. They're killing everyone, Warren. I couldn't. . . I couldn't stop it. There are too many. . ." she started with panic in her voice, " Alix. . . she ran. That way,

“It’s okay, Callan, stay calm.” Warren said, his voice level and soothing in contrast to the chaos of the situation and the concern burning inside him, opting for her real name rather than code name for a brief moment. He looked in the direction she had pointed in and reached up to touch his com link. “Wolverine, Skin, Banshee. I need some kind of update. I’ve identified two Brotherhood members and found Static. Alix is still MIA, we need to find her.”

With another light touch he was on another frequency, broadcasting to a location high above them. “Scott, once you’ve finished with your little tea party in the sky, back up would be good. The Brotherhood is slaughtering the entire town down here. I've only got three X-Men with me, and Alix, but I don't know where she is.” He looked down at the blonde woman at his side. “I need to get back in the sky...” he began, before he noticed her eyes focusing on something behind him, her hands gripping his arms as she told him to duck.

Without looking to check what was going on, Warren followed Static down, his wings instinctively wrapping around both of them in a protective shield, his hands, still holding a sword in each, braced flat against the ground. A sharp pain flared across his shoulder blade, just above the joint of his wing and another across his lower back as blades bit gashes through his uniform and into his skin. He flinched, drawing in a sharp breath as they made contact, but reacted no more than that. There wasn’t time for anything else as he let go of Static and stood, turning to face his opponent in one swift motion.

“Static, go and find Alix and get out of here. If you come across any of the Brotherhood, stay calm, remember your training and do not hold back, okay? I need you to give everything you’ve got.” With that, he turned his attention back to his opponent, trusting that Static would follow his orders. The tracks from the blades burned across his back and shoulder when he moved, the feel of blood slipping between his skin and his uniform was unpleasant but not unfamiliar and so something he could ignore for the moment. The man who had thrown the blades was one of the Brotherhood who had turned up at Mansion, a recent addition Warren thought as he wasn’t one of the regular members they usually scuffled with. It seemed Magneto’s followers had gone through a shake up in the last year or so, become more ruthless which really didn’t bode well.

“I’ve never been one to trust terrorists myself, so you’ll forgive me if I don’t really believe you’ll let us walk away. Besides.... walking away while a town of innocent people is slaughtered has never really been my style.” Warren said mildly, almost casually, as he walked towards the Brotherhood member, his swords held firmly, ready to move at the slightest indication that the other man was going to attack. For the moment he stayed grounded, not attempting to make the first move, but ready to react when the other mutant made his.
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Static
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“It’s okay, Callan, stay calm.”

Okay? I think not.

Luckily, Warren reacted quickly when Cal urged him to avoid the blades coming their way. Once again, time was passing at an alarming pace, leaving Cal in the dust. Her gaze immediately turned from the approaching weapons to the magnificent wings that enveloped her, but once again she wasn't allowed much time to acknowledge the good or interesting things that popped up in this awful situation. Her attention was then redirected to Warren's face where she didn't see the usually calm expression she so desparately needed to see. Instead she saw pain. . . but he said nothing. Those blades must not have missed their targets entirely like Cal initially thought they did. Maybe she should have tried to push him out of the way. . .

He quickly rose to his feet again, and she stood with him. Warren intended to fight the man who had attacked them, and as much as Callan knew he was perfectly capable of handling himself, she still found herself becoming increasingly nervous. If something happened to him she wouldn't know how to handle it. It wasn't every day that she met someone as kind as he had been to her, and she certainly wasn't used to people protecting her as he had in the last few moments. Seeing bad things happen to good people wasn't something she enjoyed. It just wasn't right.

“Static, go and find Alix and get out of here. If you come across any of the Brotherhood, stay calm, remember your training and do not hold back, okay? I need you to give everything you’ve got.”

"Okay," she replied awkwardly as she looked toward their attacker, "Good luck."

Well she had to say something. "Don't die" (perhaps followed by ". . . or I'll kill you") would have sounded inappropriately humorous, and "be careful" was like some cheezy, pointless line from a crappy movie. All she wanted was for Warren and the people he brought with him to stay safe. Perhaps that didn't need to be explained, but what the hell.

Rather than standing around and watching the fight commence, Cal took off running in the direction she had seen Alix run. Hopefully she wasn't too late to help her. It wasn't long before she found what she was looking for. Callan saw the young woman immediately after turning a corner. Alix appeared to be out cold as she hung limply over the shoulder of a rather unfortunate looking mutant. That wasn't exactly what Cal wanted to find, but at least it seemed that she could still complete the task assigned to her.

Hoping to get the first shot, Cal saved both herself and her enemy from a pointless exchange of words and extended her stinging right hand to generate a current that would hopefully meet his legs, causing him to fall to the ground. By aiming low, she made it very unlikely for her shock to have any effect on Alix. . . though there was a chance she'd be dropped somewhat painfully as a result of the attack. Getting the guy who was carrying her to surrender and set her down carefully probably wasn't going to happen, though. Things could still get a lot worse.
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Primal
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There was a dull flicker of non-light against a razor-sharp edge; a flick of the wrist, and a slash came out of nowhere. With a sudden jerk Primal pulled his body away from Wolverine, away from the death-hungry strike, attempting to spin away from the flash of adamantium, but he underestimated his movements and the dodge was misjudged. Metal ate flesh. Claws opened up Primal’s face as if they were razors splitting apart nothing more than saran-wrap. An agonised howl escaped the dinosaur; he stumbled backwards as blood spat westwards in a curtain of red and the taste of copper slid into his mouth, hands instinctively flying towards the ensemble of wounds. His training kicked in, however, and in practically the same motion tugged them away to push past the intense, searing pain that lanced across his facial muscles. Primal twisted as his palms greeted the scuffed dirt, and he viciously lashed out with his tail in a sweep that would normally shatter bone, aiming for a sickening crunch when it would connect with his opponent’s kneecaps.

Blood dripped in a curtain along his jawline and off his chin, soaking down his shirt, dampening the fabric and adhering it to his framework, but Primal ignored it- ignored the sting and the sensation and the stench of his own haemoglobin hitting the back of his nostrils. For the reptile, who had a sense of smell that could pick up a stray dog pissing against a fire hydrant three blocks away, it was like sucking on a handful of pennies and sticking his skull in a minting vat at the same time…but fuck, he ignored it.

Something wasn’t right…the injuries Primal had inflicted should have at least slowed this fucker down…should have produced something of an acknowledgement that he was tearing or had torn a few chunks off this guy. But there was nothing, fucking nothing; the right sort of smell didn’t even baste the space between them…the X-Man didn’t waver, even fractionally. The only explanation could have been something to do with his mutation- a healing factor, maybe?

Nearby there was a wall structure shifting and groaning underneath its own weight- Juggernaut had pounded along through this area not long ago like some sort of glorified humanoid crushing ball, leaving in his wake a wasteland of twisted, splintered and pulverised buildings, as well as a lengthy string of human pate. Things still creaked and crashed as they collapsed, no longer supported by any means; if Primal could just get Wolverine close enough to the teetering ruin, then perhaps he would be able to do something about crushing his enemy underneath the imminent landslide.

Briefly, a tiny voice in the back of Primal’s mind whispered something about not being able to win this one…the same kind of voice that had often sucker-punched him during his time before Magneto had taken him in, that kind of worthless inner whining which liked to drag its victims into a dark dense pussy-bitching hole of self-pity…and that was it. Everything hit him all at once, like a freight train derailing- pain-addled fury and the fact that he was currently on the receiving end of the stick when he should have been tearing this asswipe a new one, all of it stained itself black with rage. Primal lost it. Any coherent thoughts piled down the drain like shit being flushed down the pot…everything else except the image of disembowelling the fucktard and feeding him his entrails fizzling away into static.

Slamming headlong into Wolverine, using all of the strength in his legs to assist the wild leap, Primal barrelled himself forwards with a guttural roar. In such close proximity the Canadian feral would find it easy to drive those claws into the younger man’s body, and although the thought didn’t trickle past the rage that whitewashed over any common sense, hopefully Wolverine would be knocked off balance enough to be unable to make a lethal strike.
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Gambit(Matt)
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Kinetic Energy Manipulation, Empathic Charm
“Most likely. They’re like…”

Whatever the Irishman had meant to say got cut short as a loud scream pierced the air as if announcing the body that soon followed, crashing into the black market dealer and sent both of them rolling across the ground. Two more playing cards appeared in Gambit's hand, charged and ready to fling at the newcomer, Banshee. Attacking someone he'd shared more than a few drinks with was something he was loathe to do, but Remy had made his choice, and Sean had made his. Gambit took a few paces forward as he looked for a window of attack, but was interrupted before he found it.

Caught in a blizzard of mortar, brick, and wood, the Cajun lost all sight of his partner in crime and the Institute's legal consulate. The only thing he he saw before being hurled backward by the force of the explosion was a small red mountain thundering across the place he had just stood.

Juggernaut.

Throwing his feet while in mid-air, Gambit righted himself, and hit the grass on his feet – one hand placed on the damp surface as his body slid back a couple of yards from the inertia of his descent. His other arm was shielding his face from the smaller debris that assaulted him. “Sonnofabitch,” he spat as he finally attempted to peer from underneath his arm. The two Irishmen and the monolithic mutant... all of them were gone.

Slowly, Gambit straightened, a slight frown on his face. “Well dis is disappointin',” he muttered, beginning to feel a little left out. He stood there for a few moments, the thundering of Cain's footsteps growing softer while screams, shouts, and gunfire dominated it until it became background noise once more. And that's when he heard the buzzing of a chainsaw... Razorback didn't sound like he was too far off. Remy looked up and squinted at the sky... Angel, Static, Banshee... there had to be more. He couldn't be sure how many, but one thing was for certain... even if there were only the three of them, there would be more soon. Gambit didn't think it was time to cut and run, but he wanted to make sure that if and when it became necessary, they'd have a way out.

Breaking into a run toward the direction of the noise of the chainsaw, it didn't take Gambit long to locate his teammate standing over the body of some female victim, and it was all the Cajun could do to maintain a moderately passive face as he took in the scene, his crimson eyes bouncing from the corpse to the mutant, “You havin fun?”
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Camera
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Camera headed outward from the island, fixing to leave she paused momentarily. Thinking her task might have been done, but building were still standing. And the order was ‘leave no survivors’. The blonde sighed and looked around. It didn’t take long to make a few (more like over a dozen) homemade bombs. A sadistic smirk crossed her lips as she quickly finished the last one. It was a good thing she was near a grocery store, grabbing a shopping cart and placing the bombs inside it. Pushing the cart and gliding along with it she casually tossed them at random houses, stores, and other buildings; including an art gallery.

Anyone inside the buildings would die. Anyone that might have been spared would cease to be. Having left no survivors in her wake. Just as it was suppose to be. Just as they were ordered to do. All the while, hearing the screams and cries, keeping a smile on her face. Still having the blood spray from the people in the line of houses earlier. She threw the bombs like a professional baseball player.

All the while listening to her music and singing along with it. Humming to the instrumentals and singing out the words. It sounded odd to hear a song in such chaos. The fire, the screaming, the absolute destruction, and yet the lyrics of “Are You Gonna Be My Girl?” The song reminded her of something. Camera should pay her sister a visit sometime in the future.

Well a-1, 2, 3
Take my hand and come with me
Because you look so fine
That I really wanna make you mine

I said, you look so fine
That I really wanna make you mine

4, 5, 6
C'mon and get your kicks
Now you don’t need the money
when u look like that, do ya hunny

Big black boots
Long brown hair
She’s so sweet
With her get-back stare

Well I could see
You home with me
But you were with another man, yeah
I know we ain't got much to say
Before I let you get away, yeah

I said, are you gonna be my girl



She continued to hum and sing along as she bombed the remaining buildings taking care of any possible survivors hiding inside.. It never occurred to her that some of her fellow members might have been inside any of them. Maybe the singing and bombing of previous buildings would be a good warning for them, hopefully.
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Toad
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Mortimer began his walk to try and find where he needed to place his prize. He began to catch the whiff of Juggernauts mayhem as the cries and screams grew to a never ignoring pitch. "That-a way!" He chuckled happily and began to run while holding the knocked out telepathy. Suddenly a charge shot through him. The shocked ran from his right hand and into his legs. He instantly numbed and fell face first, dropping his prey before him. "Nrg!! GAHH!" *SPLAT*

A muffled moan left his swooshed lips as he felt a tingle continue to run through him.

"What the hell!?!" He struggled to get up and quickly turned his head tot he woman. "Well well......" He hissed at the sight of her, and boy was she a nice one! He got to his feet and eyed the fainted woman behind him.

"If your after your little friend here, than you'll have to do a lot better than that!" Within a second after he finished his sentence, His tongue shot from his mouth and lashed around the woman's ankle. He yanked back and caused her to fall flat on her back.

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Static
Unregistered

"If you're after your little friend here, than you'll have to do a lot better than that!"

That was obvious. Cal had been successful in getting the guy to drop Alix, but before she could plan another attack, her back met the harsh ground with a loud crack! The bright sparks that shot out of her body on impact suggested that the sound hadn't come from bone, but from rapid electron movement. This was the second time tonight that she'd found herself getting aquainted with the streets. Her hands seemed especially fond of the rocks they found down there, judging by their relentless stinging. Unfortunately there was nothing to lessen the blow this time around. She wasn't prepared at all for the mutant to shoot his tongue out and use it like that, and she hadn't worn a helmet to prevent herself from dangerous pavement naps.

Groaning lightly, Cal slowly picked herself off of the ground with one hand cradling her head which had taken a good knock. There didn't seem to be any blood, though. However, it seemed that she'd be having more friendly get-togethers with that street soon enough. There was still time for blood and breaks and concussions.

"In fact, I was looking for her, and now that I've found her," Cal paused to steady herself as she nearly lost her balance, " I'm going to take her off your hands and get her outta here."

Without warning, Cal opted for a quick, strong bolt that didn't come from her body this time. Instead it appeared, without an obvious source, as a bright column of light that headed straight for the frog-man, threatening to return the favor he'd offered to Static. She wasn't trying to kill him, despite Warren's requests, but she definitely wasn't playing around. She had a clear goal to achieve. No matter what it took, she was committed to getting Alix off of this island hell.

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Toad
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Mortimer chuckled with a cool hiss as he watched the woman wobble to her feet. Toad listened to her words and laughed aloud. "Hah! Hahah! Bring it, Chika!" Toad cackled as he began to hear the rumble from the skies roar above him. He knew what was coming to him.

Yet he knew he would not get it.

Toad tossed himself back in a roll and opened to a crouched pose watching the bolt strike where he was standing. He grinned knowing he dodged it well. "Oh, DAMN that's Hot!" Toad cackled with glee as he eyed the blond up and down with a glow in his eye. She was rather hypnotizing. . "Bout time I met a girl with.....Spark!" With that, he took a leap high up above her and shot a few rounds of his sticky saliva to her hair and face. He knew it would annoy her...just a bit. Seeing as how pretty she is, getting Toad's special saliva in your hair is about as bad a gum, and it takes more than peanut butter to get it out. He landed behind her and turned to see what damage he had done to pester her some. He wanted to play before he could claim another mutant.
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Buford Hollis
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Mechanical Hyper-Competence
A curious realization washed over Buford as he stood up and straightened himself up. No, it was wrong to call it a realization. It was the complete lack of realization. He didn't hate this woman anymore than that she caused him pain. There was a complete lack of relationship between the victim and the murderer.

A more curious man would wonder about how easily he was pushed into killing a fellow without reason. But that curious man wouldn't be so easily pushed into killing. Buford stood a few seconds above his fresh kill, in the pure orgasmic rush of not thinking for himself.

“You havin fun?” Buford watched his red-eyed teammate walk into view. Buford wasn't particularly close to Gambit. They were both sons of the South, though growing up a thief in New Orleans was pretty much the farthest thing from Buford's childhood. It didn't really matter though. After being shot, Buford didn't want to have to chainsaw himself through a crowd. Gambit was a friendly face, and Buford always followed any harbor during the storm.

Buford grunted and spat away from the body "Bitch shot me," he sniffed. He turned to face his brotherhood compatriot. "She got what she deserved." He stopped his chainsaw. Suddenly he wasn't feeling too good. The adrenaline in his system was falling back, and he had lost a good amount of blood due to Shooty McBitch.

"I don't feel so good," He murmured. He clutched his upper left arm, and fell towards the ground.
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Banshee
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Sean had got his man right on the mark. The blow had sent the other Cassidy (as if he was fit to carry the name!) sprawling to the floor. It felt good, taking out that lowlife piece of scum. Whether in the courtroom or on the streets, beating someone felt good. Especially if that someone was a person that particularly deserved it. And if anyone that Sean knew that personally deserved it from him, it would be Tom. Unfortuantely, the body slam he had delivered had sent him tumbling to the floor as well and it looked like the black sheep of the Cassidy flock recovered faster than Banshee. Looks like this plan wasn't as well thought out as he had hoped. Still, the fact that their powers would be useless direct against each other would level out the playing field. Whose playing field was another question. But he wasn't going down without a fight.

Standing slowly and woozily after his crash landing, Sean stumbled a moment, only to be grabbed around and saw right into the bloodied face of Black Tom. Well, at least the bastard had bled first, that was a good thing. Drawing a smirk to his face, Sean balled his hands into fists. For an instant, they stared off at each others faces, the emotion between the clear to see. Anger, Hatred, Loathing, all present and correct, much like you would expect. Unluckily for him, family don't fight fair. The swift knee to the gut made him lose his breath, his abdomen feeling the pain from the underhand blow.

Sharp shooting pains erupted from his scalp as Tom grabbed his short hair at the roots and then swung his fist into Sean's face, smashing his nose into his face, blood pouring freely out of it. Spluttering as the small flow ran over his lips, Sean glared at his rival, who stood opposite him, admiring his handiwork. Anger swelling in response to the violence, Sean blew out some blood in his mouth onto the floor.

"I did, but I don't need him to make ya cry like an old woman" he spat out, anger in his voice. Forget the rest of Wolf's Head, this was a blood fued amongst the Cassidys and Sean wasn't goimg to run like Tom did, like the coward did. With one swift movement, Sean rised up and swang his head fowards speedily, hoping to land a headbut on Tom's face. Mash up his dark and messy looks even more if he pulled it off. If not, Sean would get his ass kicked. That would be if he was lucky though. If he was unlucky, then may the Lord have mercy on Sean's soul.
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Skin
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He defiantly felt his second strike hit the boy but unfortunately this boy covered his face to prevent his face from being smashed by Skin's hardened skin. Cutter flew back a couple of feet from the impact of his attack but the grey skinned mutant was still somewhat looking back to Toad who had Alix in his grasp, well tongue. He would have gone to save her even if she didn't really want him to but suddenly he got a call on his comlink from Angel. Wasn't this a treat, the so called missing Alix was with him, yes he wanted a cookie for that.

"Skin here. I saved some people and sent 'em somewhere safe. Encountered a few Brotherhood members 'n I found Alix, she's here wit me but....[Static noise]" at that time the skin based mutant dropped his comlink since he heard something behind him. Cutter survived his attack without too much harm.

He of course wasn't expecting him to be knocked out cold from his attack since he wasn't that conceited...right? Buuuut, he wasn't expecting him to get up so fast and do what he did next. He was some tough kid. Back when he was this kid's age Anglo wasn't sure if he was as tough but he knew he probably didn't have as much motivation as Cutter did. All he wanted to do was just learn to control his powers and live to see another day, not become an X-Men. Funny how views changed. Thinking about it, he wasn't too sure if he could ever have been in the Brotherhood. Not only were his abilities probably not too effective for a person in the Brotherhood but he wasn't obsessed with mutant rights or even superiority. How can his mutation do anything but curse him, he definitely was NOT superior.

The knife traveled fast from Cutter's hand and it was aimed somewhere on his face. He had already stated it was useless to try to cut him since his skin would not cut. This was known from his past experiences and battles as he had tested this method and no matter what substance had tried to pierce his skin or no matter how much Angelo would try to stretch his skin, it would no break so what was he trying to do? He suddenly understood but it came a little too late since the speed of the traveling knife arrived fast. He was going for his eye. His arm could not reach fast enough for him to intercept the knife so he had to rely on his skin. Closing both eyes quickly, he focused on the skin on his cheeks which suddenly stretched up quickly as a fold over his eyes and it worked since the knife hit its target but his uncuttable skin protected his eye. There was a problem though. The knife stretched as the momentum of the knife hit it and slammed into his left eye.

His eye was not cut but it was like someone had punched him directly into his eye ball. A large throbbing pain was instantly felt in that eye and he could not feel it open, his eyelid would not permit it. The pain surged to the base of his nose and to the back of his head. Wow, just from hitting his eye, with a knife. On instinct, he tightened that eye more and could feel his right eye get a bit watery. What was this, he just received a big hit and it wasn't even from this guy's mutant power. On that note, what the hell could he do? It was strange since by now, the other mutant would've used their powers by now but this guy was just anticking him with common everyday, not necessarily common but..., utensils.

"I should've SEEN this comin'," Angelo stated.

He wasn't going to let this kid defeat him like this. He knew he could take him on for sure and he knew he could win. He had been involved in the gang life since his early teens and then he joined a mutant team which was sent to basically save lives and the such which gives Skin much more experience, a lot more. He only had one usable eye right now so it would hinder him a bit but he still had tricks embedded into his 10 extra feet of skin.

"Esta bien, play time's over!"

Lifting his hands up, Skin suddenly stretched the skin of each of his fingers to very long lengths thus giving him the appearance of very very very long fingers. Pulling his arms back above his shoulder and then suddenly jerking them back to his front, his fingers gained enough momentum to launch towards Cutter at fast speeds. Angelo was concentrating on concentrating on each individual finger which would act like long whips of skin. The 10 whips would whip the boy from every possible angle as well as wrap themselves around a leg or an arms or maybe even his neck or possibly his whole body while the other tendrils would continue the slicing and dicing of the boys body. With 10 of these whips of skin, it was almost impossible to dodge unless he was like Shadowcat and could phase through them.

Skin would use his skin to throw his body into the walls of the alley repeatedly should his skin wrap itself around Cutter's body, which was a 90% chance they would.

"Stay down this time nińo" Angelo yelled at the boy.

Hearing the voice of Toad and the slamming of feet onto the concrete away from the building, Skin saw the last images of Toad carrying Alix off somewhere. There wouldn't be none of this now would there. Angelo began to run down the alley as he was hoping to help Alix and stop that Frog of a captor. For an instant, his vision from his right eye suddenly became blurry and the pain of his left eye still throbbed so the image of what appeared to be Static's electricity was not so clear as he reached the street and out of the alley. Hearing noises back from the alley, Angelo turned around to see his former opponent once more. Damn it.

"Ay caramba! This is gonna be a loooong night, huh?"
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