Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
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:

Username:   Password:
Add Reply
The Town; The Thunderbolts
Topic Started: Sep 28 2009, 10:59 PM (1,347 Views)
Jean
Member Avatar
Telepathy, Telekinesis
Date: soon after Black Tom has joined Thunderbolts
Time: noon



In the middle of the Mojave Desert, isolated amid a sea of salt flats, dried lakebeds, and tumbleweeds, sat a lone, nondescript building.

Thunderbolts, a very SHIELD-like moniker, Jean had thought when the squad had been formed, not long after the end of the mutant-human war. Some General had tried to tell her once that they were to dispense justice like lightning. What a crock of shit, she’d thought then and the last few years hadn’t changed her mind; they were more like a portable electric chair. Zap, you’re dead… or captured by SHIELD, which worked out to be the same thing in most cases.

Agent Marvel cracked open one bleary eye and scanned the clothing strewn floor for the offending beep beep beep that had disrupted such a … satisfying sleep. A yellow-orange light pulsed through the fabric of her discarded shirt. For over fifteen years, developing and honing her abilities had been her life, they were so much a part of her that she didn’t need to concentrate to bring the earpiece to her hand, then put it in.

“Agent Marvel,” she reported to the earpiece as her eyes roamed over the steelbanded muscles of the still form at her side. The message wasn’t long, most of the details would already be waiting on her computer, but the gist was clear – something mutant-related was up.

She rolled toward Patch, grabbing a handful of manhood and pressing her teeth into his shoulder hard enough to leave pale indentations in his skin. “Up and at’em, soldier,” she said and smirked, “… not that kind of up; command sent another mission for the Thunderbolts.”

She put her hand on his hip and, with a little TK assistance, was about to shove him out of her bed when certain clues slid into place in her mind - a musky smell and the lack of blinking computer lights. Damn, this is his room, she thought sourly. Their relationship wasn’t built on flowers or sweet cuddles in the summer moonlight but even so, pushing a man out of his own bed was a bit too raw, even for her. With a sigh, she slid off the bed and grabbed up her shed clothes, draping them carelessly over her shoulder.

“Briefing in fifteen, Patch,” she called on her way out the door.

Modesty didn’t last long in SHIELD, it had certainly died years ago for Jean; died and was filed away under Things not important enough to give a shit about. But the wolf whistle that greeted her in the hall, though not expect, wasn’t a surprise. She narrowed her eyes at the whistler and with lightning speed her thoughts lashed out, grabbing his head and quickly slamming it into the tile floor with a meaty slap.

“And you better, by God, clean up that blood,” she called back at him as she entered her room.

:: Thunderbolts – briefing in ten minutes! :: Her thought pounded into their minds.
[align=center]Posted Image [/align]
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Sabretooth
Member Avatar
Adamantium Skeleton, Claws / Feral traits, Regeneration
Victor Creed had long established himself as a very good covert operative for the United States government. Much like his longtime friend Logan, or Jimmy or Patch or whatever Creed wanted to call him that day, he had several lifetimes worth of experience under his belt. He was good, damn good, arguably the best at what he does, a point he and Patch had been competing over for decades.

That said, he had always made it a point of pride to know things, particularly when it was mission time. As Agent Marvel had left Patch's room, Sabretooth was already there, fully geared and ready to go. His SHIELD issue needle-pistols holstered, grenade belt filled - he was ready, and he stood across the hall from the room leaning against the wall with his arms folded at his chest and a grin that was both lecherous and mischievous. Sabretooth had worked with Marvel for some time now, and even if he didn't have superhuman senses, he'd know what happened in that room.

"So, Red... How's the runt compare?" he teased, if that's actually the appropriate word. Creed was a strange case. He was a very good soldier, but he couldn't help toying with authority.

"We bringin' the newbie along on this one?" he asked, switching to "all business" mode before she could react to his prodding.
Posted Image

If ya want blood - you got it.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Black Tom
Unregistered

Nothing made you feel like a new man like a good clean shave and a fresh haircut. Thomas the newly freed Irishman kept feeling his face and how smooth it felt. He had cropped his hair short and cleaned himself up really well. With the previously long hair and beard he had felt like a filthy animal. He was a mutant so it was the human race that should be treated like animals. Thomas felt like a race traitor after falling into the goosestep of the human run organization SHIELD. Thomas had signed up for the Thunderbolts, the shadow Gestapo, for a second chance at freedom. It wasn’t really like he could refuse the offer. After all, they had made the deal so sweet.

Thomas received the mental commands from Agent Marvel that the Thunderbolts were to meet within ten minutes. Her mental voice was like honey in his mind but it was honey slathered on the head of a sledgehammer. It thundered throughout his cortex. He dressed in the heavy duty black fatigues that were provided for him. The Kevlar body armor was strapped across his chest. The fully automatic carbine hung from the strap across his back. Thomas flexed his hands in front of him. His hands were what sealed his deal with the devil. Instead of a cage, he’d been given a golden collar on a short leash.

Thomas’ hands had been augmented by the top SHIELD scientists. The flesh in his hands and forearms had been grafted with a cellulose based compound. The Irishman’s hands had curled into durable claws. He was still allowed a wide range of mobility but he was now able to fire his destructive blasts through his hands without relying on a secondary medium. That was how he was given his SHIELD alias; he hated the idea of a codename. It stemmed from the fact that he worked with wood. The mutant terrorist turned government attack dog wondered if he could have gotten the same upgrades without this deal.

Thomas walked into the briefing room. He was one of the newest recruits to the team and had little interaction with the rest of the Thunderbolts. He’d been on an operating table for most of the time out of prison. There could be any number of reasons why the others had joined. Whatever the reason, they were all slaves in one way or another. Just like anywhere else they were bound to test the new comer. “Carpenter reporting for duty,” the Irishman said. “What poor slag needs slaughtering?”
Quote Post Goto Top
 
Logan
Unregistered

The man had been in a fitful slumber, rolling over numerous times. He often spoke quietly in his sleep, speaking to those that he has slain. James' dreams haunted him and every night it was a new nightmare. Despite the pleasurable experience he had with Jean the night before, the dream that he was currently caught in was a memory of World War 1. His legs kicked the covers off as he imagined himself running through the trenches on the German front lines, avoiding mustard gas and other biological agents that were killing his fellow soldiers. Beside him, as often was the case, was Victor Creed. The man told him to press on - and he did so. Running towards the enemy positions with Creed as if they were mad men. The Germans did not stand a chance as the pair jumped over the wall of their trenches in a single bound, and James recalled every man's face as they died tasting his claws.

"Up and at 'em, soldier," a familiar voice called, and he felt a pressure on his crotch. He also felt the biting sensation in his shoulder. Jean's call to him ripped him forcefully out of the dream and he sat up quickly, breathing hard and looking towards her quickly. "“… not that kind of up; command sent another mission for the Thunderbolts.”

Patch looked at her blankly for a moment and then glanced around the room as his mind snapped to reality. He must have really wore her out for her to sleep through his dreams. After a moment to regain his sense of awareness, he looked at her and nodded once. The man rubbed his eyes and swung his legs off the other side of the bed as Jean got up, not even bothering to look over and admire her. Maybe that is one reason she liked him? He really didn't give a fuck. The woman called to him about meeting in fifteen minutes, and he raised a hand up towards her. "Yea, okay," he replied dismissively as she door shut behind her.

James walked out of his room in no time, wearing an olive drab shirt, camo pants, and combat boots. He wore dog tags around his neck that he had kept from times past, which read the codename "Patch" on one side and his real name, "James Howlett," on the other. Patch carried a coffee mug filled with Jack Daniels in one hand and an unlit cigar in the other. If he was capable of being an alcoholic, he would definitely be one.

As he walked out of the room, he saw Creed in the hallway and it looked as if he were on his way to the briefing room as well. He walked up to the man and slapped him once on the shoulder in greeting before motioning for him to walk alongside him towards the briefing room. "I think we are taking that new kid, Vic," James said, taking a large gulp of the Jack D. "We can break him in just right, eh?" James continued, turning the corner and walking up directly behind Black Tom. The man wasn't necessarily in his way, Patch could have walked around him quite easily. But the most direct route to where he usually walked was right through where Tom was standing.

"What poor slag needs slaughtering?" Tom was saying.

"You, if you don't get the hell out of my way," James said, sticking the cigar in his mouth. He almost dared Tom to turn around with some kind of attitude. What would he be looking at? Sabretooth and Patch, side by side. There were very few that could stand up to their force alone. As a matter of fact.... why weren't they just sending him and Creed in on this?
Quote Post Goto Top
 
Rawson
Member Avatar
Nuclear / Atomic Energy Manipulation
Sleep didn't come easy to Allister Rawson. It hadn't for the last several years. In fact it never came at all, not since he went under for yet another surgery courtesy of Uncle Sam and woke up for the last time. At first the nuclear man seemed poised to snap, the strain of constant consciousness evident within the first week following the operation. It wasn't a matter of exhaustion or energy concerns, The Plant had made sure of that. No, a lack of energy wasn't the problem, it was the constant stimulus. Being awake for just several days had started to wear away at him, but he could practically hear the gears in his mind start to grind as the days he spent awake turned into weeks and months. But he'd come a long way since then.

The pills, they helped, but Alister couldn't trust them to be reliable. Just one alone was strong enough to kill your average whale, and despite his superhuman resistance to chemical influences, one of those pills could do a number on him. They were supposed to more or less simulate REM sleep for 8 hours, but they didn't always wear off that quickly and a doped up Megaton was nothing but a liability for the Thunderbolts. And the Thunderbolts didn't need a liability on their team, something that had been made perfectly clear to Allister more than once.

No, what really helped him stay sane all these years were book. It had started as one of the many alternative therapies that Allister had adopted in the hopes of some relief from his constant consciousness, and it ended up being the only one with any effect. To this day he wasn't sure why, he had never been an avid reader before being drafted into This Man's Army, but for some reason literature was able to remove him enough from his reality for his mind to recuperate from whatever horrible thing he had been doing that day.

It had been classics for the past few months. Joyce, Byron, Shelly, Milton and all the others, his private quarters were littered with them, plus the other books he had accumulated one way or another over the years. He was just turning the last page of Paradise Lost when his thoughts were invaded by Marvel. Of course there was a briefing in ten minutes. How typical.

The book was discarded as the Thunderbolt rose. All his muscles ached as he walked to the head, but a quick stretching got rid of most of the pain. Momentarily at least. A hasty shave was all the had time for, but that would have to do. After rinsing, he stole a moment to admire himself in the mirror. Despite his years of government 'service' he barely had a nick to to show for it. Well at least on his face. He had to be thankful for small miracles, he still had his looks. But that's not why he was kept around.

What he was kept around for was the ungodly amount of nuclear energy he could blast out of his body at the speed of thought. This was only augmented by 'combat vest' he had to wear. It was more of a chest plate than a vest really, made of some sort of metallic material as far as he could guess, but not even a centimeter thick. It protected all his vitals, but kept his arms totally exposed, leaving all the more skin to blast his nuclear payload from. Plus it came with enough monitors for who ever his handler was to know if Megaton was trying to do something clever, so he could be shut down before he leveled New York. He just had rather simple combat fatigues and boots for the rest of his outfit, which was nearly entirely composed of blacks and grays.

None of it would have been Allister's first choice.

"You really are the heart and soul of this team Patch." Megaton quipped, sliding by the ferals and the Mick before taking his place off to the side. Why did all the good company have to keep dieing off?

Posted Image
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Jean
Member Avatar
Telepathy, Telekinesis
Walking into the room minutes later, her short hair still damp and wearing a fresh SHIELD uniform, Marvel sent her gaze around the room, connecting with the four men. It was time to begin.

“We’re going in blind on this one,” she told them as she half-turned and tapped the smart-board with her knuckle. Bringing it to life showed the map of a small town, a long narrow sliver that hugged the curves of a river. “Connellsville Pennsylvania… five miles long and two miles at its widest point. A coal mine town. The Merck Foundry, based on the river, was the main employer. Yesterday, roughly fourteen thousand civilians lived there.” With another tap on the board, the image was replaced by what looked like footage from a helicopter, a sometimes shaky bird’s eyeview of the town. “Today, the town is empty,” Marvel half-turned to watch the footage with them. To men used to violence, being knee-deep in the middle of it, the signs were clear as day – windows smashed, random bits of debris just the right size and shape to be used as make-shift clubs littered the streets, and dark puddles and streaks on the streets and sides of buildings that only the most optimistic person would think was anything other than blood.

The footage panned up, along what looked like the town’s main street. Cars and trucks were strewn, abandoned helter-skelter along the street; among the cluster of old trucks and cars were two Penn. State patrol cars. “The state-trooper who had this town on his route, radioed in this morning about the signs of a disturbance. When he failed to check-in with an update, another trooper was sent. After the second one disappeared, all roads into the town were barred and SHIELD got the call.”

Marvel had seen death before – from people riddled with bullets or plants used as spikes to impale people, to electrocutions by lightning-wielders, and immolation by pyromaniacs, but the empty streets of Connellsville gave her an feeling eerie. “Surveillance from the copter shows that whatever happened here, they took the bodies with them. Fourteen thousand,” she looked back at the team of four, five including her, and cocked an eyebrow, “with not even a damn dog or cat corpse left behind… Something has a big appetite.”

“Finding the people alive would be a bonus but Command thinks they’re are already goners and I agree. Our job is to go in, investigate, and put a stop to it.” Her eyes were hard and cold as she took them all in.

“The jet’s prep and ready… dismissed.” She said, breaking up the meeting.


The flight across the country took just over an hour, which wasn’t too bad but any time spent in an enclosed space with Creed always seemed to last an eternity. It was a relief when word came from the pilot that they were passing over the target zone.

“About time,” Marvel muttered as she got to her feet. “I’ll take us down,” she said, pacing to the special rear hatch. “Since we don’t know what’s going on down there or how many we’re up against, we’re going in quiet.” On the way in, Patch and Creed had looked over the topographical map for the best approach and she bowed to their century of expertise. “Wolverine and Sabretooth are taking point.”

When they were all ready and standing, Marvel’s thoughts coiled around each one and swan-dived out the rear hatch, bringing them behind her in formation. Normally, she enjoyed flying, it was the only solace she had from the constant pressure of chattering minds; minds that knew she might be hearing their thoughts and wasn’t too happy about it, not even Patch.

Efficient and business-like, with no swoops or lingering to take in the view, Marvel took them down, low and fast, skimming the treetops until they reached the right spot. They landed on their feet, more or less, some being more used to Marvel-Air transport than others.

:: We’ll wait here until Wolverine and Sabretooth give the signal,:: she sent to all of their minds. As they waited, she sent her thoughts into the woods and toward the town. She felt no minds.
[align=center]Posted Image [/align]
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Sabretooth
Member Avatar
Adamantium Skeleton, Claws / Feral traits, Regeneration
Creed was never fond of breaking in the newbies. Especially the ones like Irish over here. More or less strongarmed into the line of business, likely to try and betray at any moment. Last time the Thunderbolts tried to use a convincted criminal in their ranks, the guy lasted maybe a month before he tried to waste the whole team and go on the lam. If it wasn't for Sabretooth's quick trigger finger and precise aim, somebody would have died. Somebody important, that is.

So he'd be watching Cassidy closely - first sign of him trying to pull some bullshit, and he was getting a bullet to the back of the head.

The briefing was good news, though. Whole town full of people dead. Only they were more vanished than really dead. That meant once they found whoever or whatever was doing it, there'd be a damn good fight on his hands. A chance to relish in pure unadulterated violence.

He couldn't help but smile as the information came in. Fourteen thousand. No trace aside from blood streaks. It was almost as if they were never there. This was the kind of case to really sink your teeth into.

***

The plane ride over was simple enough. There was rarely any conversation amongst the Thunderbolts for these things. Aside from himself and Logan, Sabretooth doubted any of them had any sort of relationship outside of work. Logan and Sabretooth had worked together for decades, lifetimes, even, and would keep doing so once their current teammates were all dead and gone. The two were more or less family, due to the nature of their shared abilities and experiences.

The drop down was more than Sabretooth felt necessary. He had been jumping out of airplanes without a parachute, telekinetic or otherwise, for a long time and came out unharmed thanks to his healing abilities and unbreakable bones, so Jean's "assist" was unnecessary, but that was the way the team worked.

Sabretooth drew his pistols once they landed, sniffing at the air to get a hold of their bearings. The scent of death was all around them - it permeated the entire town through and through... stench of dried blood, and...

"Perfume? Flowers maybe..." he said as he advanced along, his gait steady and cautious. There was something else, too... white hot flush of hormones and adrenaline.

"An' somebody's pissed off like nobody's business."
Posted Image

If ya want blood - you got it.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Logan
Unregistered

James walked along on the other side of the street from Creed, moving quietly yet quickly. He carried no firearms or other type of weapons. Hell, he didn't need them. Patch looked over to Creed and gave him a nod as he commented on the smell of flowers or perhaps perfume, though it was lacking the alcohol base that was usually associated with perfume. "I don't like it," was all he said in reply, speaking more of the situation they were entering into than the smell that seemed to permeate the air.

Patch and Creed continued into town until they came upon one of the State Patrol officer's squad cars. He held up a closed fist so that they would both come to a stop and then approached the car. He opened the door and peered inside, not noticing anything remarkable. There was no sign of struggle or violence around the car, but there were several cases of fired ammunition on the sidewalk nearby, with a large streak of blood next to it. It appeared that the officer was killed firing his weapon, not that he shot something. James took a knee next to the smear of blood and touched his finger to it, bringing it to his nose. Faintly within the copper smelling substance, he could smell the same scent that was in the air. Or was he smelling the air? James stood again and looked at Creed, shaking his head as if he was unsure.

They continued into town, walking along what appeared to be the main street, until they reached the town square. There were wrecked vehicles and blood everywhere, but no sign of life. Like Jean did when she mentally reached out looking for minds, James did the same with his nose. He couldn't detect anything but death. With Creed watching his back, Patch went around to a few other streaks of blood, following some of them into empty businesses. Some of them looked like drag marks, but the marks seemed to disappear rather quickly and leave no other trail behind. Very strange. After walking around the square and entering a few buildings at random, James walked back to Creed and shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't see shit. I can't even tell where these bodies have been taken off to. But I don't see any threats in the area. Maybe whatever was here has left. Either way, I don't see a problem starting the investigation... I'm sure that if it shows back up, we can deal with it," Patch said to Creed, throwing the man a wink almost as if he was hoping it would come back. James then reached to his communicator, which he tried to use instead of contacting Jean through any kind of mental link. "Team, move up to the square. We'll hold here until you arrive, but keep aware."
Quote Post Goto Top
 
Avery
Member Avatar
Botanical Manipulation and Biology
To say that she had done this on a whim was a far cry from the truth. The means had been planned out carefully, experimented until she got the desirable results and then lastly had come the choosing of the town. It could not be too insignificant or to small as to go unnoticed by her choice targets, nor could not be a city either; making her the whole process more trouble than it was worth. Fortunately she stumbled upon Connellsville Pennsylvania where the flora’s cries caught her attention. They suffered from the air emissions and the chemicals in the waste stream, produced by a monstrous foundry settled by the riverside. It was delightfully perfect seeing as she could kill two birds with one stone. Looking to the old cupola stacks, she could not think of a more fitting way to deliver her justice. When the shoe was on the other foot, how nice would the air be when the toxins within it were hard for them to filter?

Now town was finely dusted by a layer of yellow residue, like a soft layer of morning frost. Large areas of grassy, untouched land had been absolutely taken over by goldenrod which seemed to be the obvious reason for the high amounts of pollen throughout the town. A little late in the year for pollination but nature worked at its own rate and sometimes was known to fall out of its trend. Humans were stupid and ignorant.

However, there was something more in the air that spread throughout the town. It was something unseen and to the average senses it was undetectable, simply mingling in with the pollen as if it was nothing but air. It was a near transparent pollen that had been developed under careful observation, a new stand that produced a surprising reaction. When the pollen was inhaled it affected certain chemicals within the brain, particularly that of serotonin, adrenaline and noradrenalin. Adrenaline and noradrenalin were known to go hand in hand as together they are released to cause stress and agitation. In reaction to this pollen the subjects affected found themselves with a dramatic increase of both chemicals. Now naturally the brain also produces serotonin, acting in response to aggression and is released to tame the anger and make the person feel happy. However, what do you suppose would happen if this chemical is suppressed or decreased? Naturally the brain is equipped with scanning devices that are always looking for anything that is threatening which is why even when sleeping if that internal alarm goes off one can wake up quickly and be ready for fight or flight. Hence if the right chemicals are affected, aggression and violence emerges as a natural function by the smallest of catalysts.

How glorious it was to see a whole town rip itself apart! To see the fools sway to their most primal of functions tripped by meaningless squabbles, or suppressed anger, or in one particularly amusing case one who had been suffering with psychopathic thoughts. She had lost count after twenty-seven or so before he was choked by a woman’s handbag strap. It felt so anti-climatic. Oh how lovely the second amendment was, guns making the whole tedious ordeal a hell of a lot faster. But shortly after she had seen that the town could be thrown into utter chaos, she lost interest. Noisy creatures with their screaming and shrill wailing of their pathetic offspring, they were giving her a headache. She left the mess for her pets to play with and have their fill; she had other matters to attend to.

Creatures of gluttony she would easily admit, however completely loyal and obeyed simple commands seemingly with enthusiasm. About a couple dozen or so had been born from the earth just for the sole purpose disposing of bodies, be they living or dead. Designed of four stalks of twisted and constantly shifting vines for walking, it also had two upper barbed appendages used for thrashing or lashing onto objects. Its torso was nothing more than an overgrown trunk that was about the thickness of three average humans, with its head making up most of its body mass. Bulb shaped, it could easily fit half of an average car into its many tooth lined muzzle. Curiously it resembled a more round sort venus fly trap, its outer teeth jolting sharply outside it’s maw. However the similarity ended there. Within its massive mouth were rows and rows of teeth and triple tongues were slopped with a sickly corrosive sap that wet its lips yet never seemed to drip. Its ability to devour and decompose of human flesh and bone had been of the upmost importance in its design. Not a trace could be left.

There was nothing more for her to do but sit and wait. She was tired of being chased, tired of being hunted; it was time that she took care of things before her luck ran out...before her powers failed her and she was overwhelmed. It would only take one slip and the savages would put her down without mercy. Ah mercy. None have been given on either side. But they were nothing but mindless things following orders. She had a cause; she had something to fight for because no one would protect them, no one would be their voice. She could, and she would, stand for those who could not speak until her last breath was drawn. It's what she had been born with these gifts, why she could hear their voices, after all.

A hot bath would do her good at a time like this. It'd been a long time since she had lavished in indoor plumbing and would probably be just as long until she saw it again. And since the lovely town was being so hospitable she would help herself to some supplies before she said her goodbyes.

"No one ever around when you need them, hmm. Very rude" she complained, her words laced with mirth as she toweled off her short wet hair. And it was then, after many hours of stillness, after many hours of being the only breathing thing in town, something came. The trees whispered their arrival, sending the message to from one plant to the next. She smiled.

"You don't waste time do you, fire locks?” The forest goddesses quipped, making her way to the factory quickly to make some last minute preparations.

Beside her a massive green creature stalked, the closest thing that she had made to resemble a humanoid though much larger than the average man. It had no expressions for it had no eyes or mouth, yet it was intelligent enough to 'speak' to her and was more interactive than any she had created in the past as she attempted to quell the loneliness. She had stopped at this one; satisfied with the results. Perhaps it merely acted the way it did as a response to her subconscious desire for companionship or maybe she wasn't as insane as thought to be and plants really did have thoughts and feelings. Either way, it was all she had in this world that didn’t wish to see her dead.

"Come, if we hurry we can watch the show."
[align=center]Posted Image[/align]
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Black Tom
Unregistered

Sure enough, the veteran members of the Thunderbolts walked in and began to give Thomas a bit of a run. It was the general posturing of equal parts of “You’d better not get in my way or I’ll fucking kill you” and “I’m not some bleeding babysitter.” It was all to be expected. The two older gentlemen carried themselves with an extreme air of experience but the younger fellow seemed more aloof. He probably had some cocky attitude and strongarmed reason for being in that little suicide club of theirs. It seemed that soon enough, Thomas would see what they all had to offer.

Before the introductions could start, Agent Marvel entered the room and quickly started her mission briefing. She activated a smart board behind her and showed the group of men a scene of carnage in a sleepy little town in New England. The evidence of death and destruction was there. Blood smears along the pavement and sprayed against pristine siding and picket fences. Broken glass and sparkled everywhere. A full blown riot had taken place and there wasn’t a single body in sight. When the Irishman was working in one of the European cells under Magneto, their attacks had always produced bodies or bits of bodies at least. Bombs and explosions always tended to have bits flying about. This however, was different. It didn’t make sense. Bodies were usually the thunder that followed the lightning that was violence. The lightning had struck but where was the thunder?

After the briefing they loaded into the jet and set a course for Pennsylvania. The flight was pretty quiet. The conversation between the squad was utterly minimal. Then they got the word for the insertion of their squad into the zone. Thomas very nearly shat himself. He had never jumped out of a plane with a parachute much less without one. He was tempted to scream at the top of his lungs with the wind ripping the voice from his throat but he couldn’t show that in front of the others on the squad, especially being the new guy on the block. He was certain that Marvel could hear his mental screams though.

They landed outside the town and Marvel issued orders for the two older gents, Patch and Creed, to take point and do some reconnaissance. They left to inspect the area ahead so the Irishman, Marvel and Megaton remained standing quietly. Thomas flexed his new hands as he rested his large assault carbine on his shoulder. He wasn’t in the military before but the cell he was with was really organized and well trained. One of the main reasons Thomas had gone to jail was because he was sold out, so he wasn’t feeling completely out of his element there. The Irishman had a creeping feeling at the back of his neck but he chalked it up to being new. He didn’t totally push it aside, however.

Patch gave them a call giving the clear. Thomas brought the rifle down to bear and ready for action. They marched forward until they were in the town square with the other two teammates. “It’s a ghost town,” he said when they arrived; he was not getting a warm and fuzzy feeling from the situation. The closer they had gotten to the town, the more Thomas felt himself grow agitated. He kept thinking about how he was basically being forced into this situation and he didn’t like it. He also thought about how he had been in the Eastern European jail cell for years, rotting, and there hadn’t been an attempt to get him out. Besides, all of these men represented the kowtowing to humankind that Thomas hated and Magneto stood against.

“They might have moved to bodies to one localized zone. Maybe collected them in a church or gymnasium?” he asked. “That’s what I’d do. All bunched up.”

The Irishman feeling a sudden rush of anger brought his assault rifle around and laid a blanket of bullets over the other Thunderbolts. It seemed like the right thing to suit his mood.
Quote Post Goto Top
 
Rawson
Member Avatar
Nuclear / Atomic Energy Manipulation
Even as Agent Marvel began the briefing, Allister was already getting bad vibes from the upcoming mission. He hadn't been raised a superstitious man, and he wasn't taken in by some of the more esoteric soldier traditions that others dabbled in. That being so, seeing that whole village well and cleared out except for the tell tale signs of struggle was unnerving to even the human bomb. He wasn't nervous or jittery, just healthily apprehensive. Give Megaton a target, and he could incinerate it with a thought, it was just a matter of how much collateral damage was acceptable. But going into a mission more or less blind, that's where the trouble was.

Wasn't like he had much of a choice though, besides do whatever Agent Marvel asked of him or get thrown back into The Plant and wither away there for the rest of his life. Magneto himself could be the bogeyman of that little insignificant town, and Allister would still pick that over having to spend even one more day getting sucked dry in that underground bunker. He'd learned to put his problems in context shortly after joining the Thunderbolts. When confronted with any serious dilemma, he'd look at it as a choice. He could do what was asked of him, or he could never see the light of day again. With those options, Megaton made for a highly motivated solider.

The trip was routine enough. Routine meaning boring of course. The Thunderbolts may have been a frighteningly effective group of killers, but they were somewhat lacking when it came to their esprit de corps. They were cohesive enough without it though, as Marvel demonstrated with her perfectly executed aerial deployment. Megaton would have enjoyed to watch this new Carpenter fellow experience his first telekinetic plummet, but the bonds that held him didn't allow that kind of mobility. Pity. Oh well, he'd have plenty of more opportunities to watch the fresh meat squirm soon enough.

It was a smooth landing, and instantly the team was moving out. Or at least Creed and Patch were. For everyone else it was a waiting game. Just standing there. In the abandoned ramshackled village. Which was kind of scenic, in an eerie way. Except for the blood stains. Although Allister was sure that to some, it lent a certain charm. No doubt Creed was right at home amongst the signs of carnage and violence.

In short time, the two ferals gave the all clear and Megaton proceeded with the rest of the group further into the town. Despite being in the company of some pretty heavy hitters, Allister still didn't like this situation at all. He was a pretty dangerous fellow, but he wasn't bullet proof. Walking by all those empty buildings, he couldn't help but notice every potential vantage point from which some psycho with a scope could pick him off. His only reassurance was that Marvel would probably be able to pick some foreign threat up mentally. That, and the fact that he wasn't walking alone. If there was any justice, one of his traveling companions would get popped first. Giving him just enough time to level the town. Which he about ready to suggest before he was shot in the back. He didn't always enjoy being proved right.

Whoever had given the new mick an automatic weapon had made a grievous mistake. Megaton wasn't sure how many times he was hit, but he could figure that out later. Six or sixty six, it hurt. His armor took the brunt of it, but a good chunk of meat was blown of his right shoulder, and a slug had stuck him right in the bone of his upper arm. He fell to the ground, temporarily laid low by the barrage, but spun to face his attack as he did. He was down for only a few seconds before he was back in the fight, taking aim at Carpenter with his unhurt arm and sending forth some nucelar fury from his palm. Or that's what he tried to do. Evidently whoever held his leash was just as confused about the situation as Megaton was, but was a little less trigger happy. Instead of unleashing a devastating blast on the traitor, he cut a wide swath with a small and controlled beam of nuclear energy. It burned and melted and crackled when it made contact, but that was about all. At least it was something.




Posted Image
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Jean
Member Avatar
Telepathy, Telekinesis
Ever since they neared the town, with its eerie abandonment and ghost-town feel, her temper had been rising. Everything and everyone was an irritant digging under her skin. Walking in front of Megaton and Carpenter, Agent Marvel’s gaze swept from building to building. The Irish bastard was going on and on about how he would’ve murdered the town and put all the corpses in a church, as if this was something to be proud of in some twisted way. It was the final straw, Marvel half-turned but Carpenter’s gun was already leveled at them. The snarl and anger she’d intended to turn on the Irishman turned into a grimace of pain as the first spurt of the bullets ripped into her SHIELD uniform. The bullets felt like punches being hammered into her side and shoulder, spinning her to the ground.

Fogged by pain and anger, simply reaching into Carpenter’s mind rending him unconscious never crossed her mind. Telepathy took thought and concentration; however her telekinesis came as natural and unthinking as breathing. Megaton had already reacted, flinging out his hand and sending a cone of blazing nuclear energy from his palm toward the traitor. Looking back at Carpenter, her eyes flared red and spread around her in a fiery aura that only happened when she was out of control. Her mind lashed out; grabbing one of the abandoned trooper patrol cars, she sent it careening through street toward Carpenter - heedless of anyone else in its path.

Struggling to get to her feet, Marvel seethed with roiling anger as she kept her eyes pinned on the Irishman, wanting nothing more than to rip out his throat with her bare hands; even then, knowing it wouldn’t be enough to cool her temper.

Unnoticed, something large moved ponderously toward the vibrations of and sensations of warmth… and warm bodies. Hunkering between two buildings, it snaked ropey vines toward Marvel’s legs.
[align=center]Posted Image [/align]
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Sabretooth
Member Avatar
Adamantium Skeleton, Claws / Feral traits, Regeneration
Sabretooth and Patch's minds had always been notoriously difficult to tamper with. Whether it was the sheer horror of their brains overwhelming all but the most potent of telepaths, or their regenerative capabilities repairing the damage inherent in a telepathic assault before it could dig into the brains, there was always immense difficulty in tampering with their minds.

He could feel the itch of something trying to get its way in, and snarled loudly and angrily, keeping his thoughts focused on the bloody murder of their target as opposed to the bloody murder of his squadmates. Yes, he was a homocidal maniac, but he was a good enough soldier to know that killing the people on your squad was counterproductive.

"Patch!" he called out above the ruckus, aiming a careful shot at Carpenter's gun to either destroy it or knock it clean out of his hand. He took several bullets in the process, but they did little more than sting. He could feel the outside influence building up on him, trying to break him down and force him to attack his fellow Thunderbolts, but he denied the urges valiantly. Of course, he wasn't aware that it was an odorless plant toxin causing his allies to go nuts and that will power would do him no good since his healing factor was killing it off before it could make much of an effect, but, assuming telepathy was in play, he steeled himself regardless.

"Watch the bosslady's back, I'm gonna track down whoever's doin' this an' rip his God damned guts out!"
Posted Image

If ya want blood - you got it.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Logan
Unregistered

James heard the shots fired by Carpenter and immediately ducked behind the closest vehicle, taking notice of Creed's grunts as his friend was shot. He peeked up over the hood of the car and surveyed the situation for a moment, watching as Megaton and Jean seemed to lose it as well. He still didn't know Carpenter, but he knew that the kid wasn't stupid enough to start shooting at his team, especially when two of them would be hard to take down with an assault rifle. James squinted and glanced towards Creed once as he fired at Carpenter, unable to stifle out an order in time to keep the big feral from firing.

Before he knew it, more chaos erupted as Megaton shot a blast of energy at Carpenter. Patch reacted quickly, ignoring Creed's call for now, and jumped on the car he was behind. He then leaped from the car and ran towards Carpenter at full speed, closing in on the Irish bastard just as Jean hurled a car at him. With another great bound, James grabbed Carpenter at the belt (whether he was hit by Meltdown's blast or not), and jumped again in order to move out of the path of the incoming car. The car crashed and rolled a few times behind them as Patch left Carpenter and continued running between two nearby buildings.

Moving as quickly as he could, he ran to the rear of the building and scaled the wall and got to the top of the two story building. He continued running, moving to the ledge and peeked over towards Jean and Meltdown. "They ain't right in the head," he said quietly to himself. He knew full well that it couldn't have been an attack on their mind from another being, because Jean at least had the power to fight back something like that. While the others would have been easy targets, she could have at least put up a fight. Then there was the fact that he and Creed did not seem to be effected.

"We came in up wind," Patch thought to himself. "A biological weapon maybe? Could explain why the towns folk are dead... but doesn't explain why there are no bodies left behind."

He suddenly stood when he saw that Creed was moving off in another direction, making himself visible to those down on the street. "Victor! No!" he yelled out. "We need to regroup and deal with..." Patch was cut short, suddenly and violently disappearing from the rooftop. It appeared that he was yanked hard from behind by an unseen force.

In reality, a thick vine had followed him onto the rooftop and managed to coil around his ankle while he was debating what to do. Once in the plant's grasp, it yanked him hard back the way he came, launching him from on top of the roof and into a thick woodline directly behind the main street. As he landed, he was instantly wrapped up in vines. They were choking him, holding his arms, and all the while the thick vines were dragging him towards a destination. In the midst of the vines, he was relatively blind due to the plants wrapped around his face and head. However, he could feel himself being quickly sucked into something cold and moist.

Then... it was dark.
Quote Post Goto Top
 
Avery
Member Avatar
Botanical Manipulation and Biology
Moving through the town, she had done it quickly and quietly as she could not risk being seen. And since her scent could be tracked by those mutts of hers, she learnt that a firm hold on her emotions made it twice as hard for them to track as her natural scent matched the plants around her. If she wanted to survive she would have to adapt to give herself that extra bit of edge. For there were five of them now against just the one of her and no matter how big of an army she created she knew that if you killed the roots the rest of the plant would wither and die. Today she had to be especially careful for if they found her it would be all over, and with their induced heightened rage it would be over quickly.

From the factory with the help of binoculars she could see many parts of the town, but unfortunately not all of it. However her network on the outside were her eyes and ears for what she could not and so far with what they reported, she was pleased. Though there was some surprising news. There was a newcomer to their worthless pack and there was something very different about him, something that struck her curiosity and almost made her want to observe him more closely. However, she was no fool. Whatever made him special didn’t matter; he would die by the hands of his comrades or would be dined upon by her pets.

Almost instantly she viewed results of her hard work as the new member sent a barrage of gunfire to rain down upon both that radioactive man and crimson locks. If she knew their names she could not recall nor could she be bothered to try to. It wouldn’t be long before they tore each other apart anyway and she could be free of their hunting. Yet as the moments passed, her pleased smile dropped from her lips and her violet eyes narrowed. The two mongrels seemed unaffected by the pollen in the air. How was that so?! Her jaw clenched tightly, she hadn’t realized that their healing factor would kick in to compensate for the chemical imbalances the pollen was creating. No matter, she had other means to ensure their death.

“Wake up, little ones.” She murmured, not needing to speak at all for them to hear her. It was a little earlier than she wished to bring them out; she didn’t wish to risk losing some as the Thunderbirds went all psycho. Unfortunately some sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. “They are waiting for you.”

One by one they rose to her call, everywhere from the tree line to the gardens of the departed, seeking out the ones that would quell their hunger. Even after so many, so many that their flesh had become tainted red from the blood, they still wanted more. They moved in unison, silently as they picked which one that struck their fancy sensing the warmth of their bodies and the vibrations with their every footfall. The only two that were momentarily spared from being maimed and devoured were the newest member and the radioactive man. She decided she wanted to see what powers he had and if he could take down this teammate before he was taken out. This in turn meant that miss crimson locks had to be toyed with so that she could not interfere.

But first, the mongrels had to be taken care of before they threw a wrench in her plans. The big one had took off but the smaller one remained on the rooftop where there a long extended vine had crept up to capture them both. It would take what it could get. Latching onto the feral’s ankle and lashing him backwards, it began dragging him and adding more vines and tangles as it went. It wrapped almost all of his body until he could no longer move, restraining him so tightly that it made it difficult to breathe. It’s many toothed mouth opened, tossing the man in before it closed where the restrains of the vines were soon replaced by three tongue like appendages in its mouth. It was dark and wet within and soon he would smell the burning of his flesh as its acidic saliva attempted to help digest him sooner. Then, it began to chew…

Around the same time, while the big mongrel was running to assist his teammates, another beast made its presence known. Perhaps he would’ve heard his smaller comrade’s cry of warning; maybe he would be distracted by his sudden disappearance or maybe too preoccupied with the battle going on before him. Either way, his attention was not on the vines that darted for his feet, snagging him and dragging in the same fashion. However, this monstrous creature preferred to dine differently. It jerked him suddenly into the air, wrapping his wrist with vines just as it did his ankles and began to pull, wishing to rip off each limb and quarter the mutant. Bite sized pieces seemed more suited to its tastes than one clean gulp. Perhaps a little too excited for what it was about to consume, one of its three tongues protruded to have a little taste of the thing it had captured.

Crimson locks was the last to be taken, the gorgeous, fierce woman that she was. Sadly carnivorous creature cared not for beauty nor had it the sense to know how truly dangerous she was. No. It was a ravenous, and wild in its glutinous hunger that it had but one desire, one drive. It would feed on her and be satisfied only until her bones were completely dissolved within its body. Its desire was what thrived its vicious attacks and from between the buildings its sickly vines flew out to ensnare her legs, hulling her back into the shadows where it loomed. Crawling up and surrounding her body, its tendril wrapped around her neck and began to choke her. No struggling or thrashing within its mouth, it wanted her good and limp.

Meanwhile back at the factory, the strangely mint hued woman had set forth to tending to her pollinating flowers. She wanted better results, she wanted to see the two remaining men driven crazy with rage as they attempted to slaughter the other. Making it so, she increased the amount and size of the flowers occupying the cupola stack and thus more of the colorless pollen began to consume the air of the near empty town. Pirched, watching high from a tiny window she waited to see who would die first. Or rather certainly who would die next, the small mongrel had definitely seen his last day.
[align=center]Posted Image[/align]
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Free Forums. Reliable service with over 8 years of experience.
Go to Next Page
« Previous Topic · WwX · Next Topic »
Add Reply