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| It's Not London, But It's Still Falling; Golden Gate Bridge Attack | |
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| Topic Started: Feb 6 2010, 08:19 PM (1,429 Views) | |
| Pyro | Feb 6 2010, 08:19 PM Post #1 |
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Pyrokinesis/Fiery Puns
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February 3. 9 pm est (six western time?) The door opened and immediately the smells of burning gasoline and oceanic air hit him. Stepping through the somehow trans-dimensional void that was the door, St. John came out on the other side of the continental united states, somewhere in California. He wasn't exactly familiar with the location of the attack, only that it was near some place called San Fransisco. But, that really didn't matter. There hadn't been many chances for him to light shit up that wasn't just a generic mall or building. As much as he liked being an arson, sometimes being part of an international terrorist organization made you want to set the whole world on fire. Let's start with a bridge -- a pyrokinetic's natural assistance to the elemental opposition of water. In terms of elements, that was. St. John had grown up on the shores of Australia and had a great liking for diving, but it was true that he never felt comfortable unless there was something on fire. Luckily, he had accepted his pyromania before even coming to the states, so there was no problem there. The only problem right now was this bridge. Watching cars wizz by, catching the faces of families -- all looking pretty human -- and individuals on the side they were on, St. John lifted his chin in disgust. He wasn't an environmentalist nor a humanist and it was well within the power for mutants to clean up the planet a lot faster than humans could. Even though his fires produced some of the taint cars did into the atmosphere, that was only during ignition. Everything after that was just thought. "Fuck. Sun's still going down. Thought we were doing this at night?" St. John complained, glancing back at the other members of the Brotherhood behind them. The attacks were supposed to be simuntaneous, a sort of like a Tet Offensive, taking place through numerous locations throughout the US. Striking core locations to the country's infrastructure could incite fear and chaos into the country, threatening local and national securities. Or something like that. St. John didn't give a damn. He just wanted it to burn. Fingering the lighters in a pocket, St. John looked skyward. Standing underneath the gigantic towers that held the bridge up, St. John tilted his head a little, trying to look around the massive structure to the top of the bridge. "Someone get me up there and I'll get on those cables before those asshole race-traitors show up. " They always did. They were annoying as fuck, like misquitoes that could talk. Didn't they understand? "Red? Think I can get a little teleportation?" he said to Amelia, assuming she was even there. |
[align=center]![]() Olga gets credit for the cinders and gifness.[/align] | |
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| Amelia Voght | Feb 7 2010, 05:49 AM Post #2 |
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Unregistered
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Amelia stepped through the teleportation door behind Pyro. She wasn’t their mode of transportation for the mission this time around. Some of the members of the Brotherhood had adverse reactions to her mode of teleportation. That was common among people, though, until they got used to dispersing into a gas and then punching through the physical realm only to reform on the other side. For the Acolyte, it was second nature. For this mission, they needed all of the members in top form. They were going to strike big and heavy against the humans. Since their coordinated strike against the public figures, the Brotherhood had largely kept a low profile in the world. They had done several missions and jobs, yes, but not all of them were as newsworthy as the assassinations. Now, their attacks were going to be on significant icons in the human infrastructure. The Brotherhood would cripple the humans’ way of life. The feeble humans had worked for months in an attempt to repair the damage done during Apocalypse’s grab for power. The Brotherhood was going to dash their efforts in a few minutes. Amelia thought back to the destruction and pain she had caused when she was brainwashed by Apocalypse. As the Horseman Pestilence she had cut a swath through Islamabad into the Kashmir. The death due to her disease was almost innumerable and the destruction was insurmountable. She had looked back on that time with great shame. She was sorry for all of the despair she had caused. Phoenix and Charles had helped her to begin to get past that guilt. It wasn’t her fault. She had been brainwashed into doing a madman’s will. How could Voght go along with a plan like this if she felt such shame over the destruction she had caused? This mission served purpose. There was a meaning behind this mission. The destruction and any deaths caused today would be to further the mutant agenda. Amelia hoped that they could get their message across. Mutants were not going to stand for persecution and mistreatment at the hands of human overlords. As they watched the oblivious motorists driving along Pyro commented on the position of the sun. “It will all work out just as long as we attack at the same time,” Amelia said. She looked around again at the cars that zipped by. A lot of people were going to get hurt. A lot of people were going to die. Amelia followed Pyro’s gaze upward and then he asked for a little help up. “Right,” she said. Amelia focused, this part was easy, and she and Pyro burst into a cloud of gas. She directed them as quick as the wind to the top of the tower. In a matter of moments they were standing atop the Golden Gate Bridge. “Be careful. Don’t get blown off,” she advised. Amelia took a position facing the opposite way of Pyro. She peered down at the cars. They looked so small. The Acolyte rubbed her hands together bracing herself for the challenge she was going to undertake. She focused on one car at random and teleported the passengers to the shore. Then she picked several more cars randomly and did the same. The driverless cars careened out of control until they slammed into another vehicle. This caused a chain reaction that led to a series of collisions and a multi-car pileup. It went against her creed as a nurse but for the mission it was necessary. These collisions would cause traffic congestion on the bridge and when it collapsed, the death toll would be great. The people that were teleported to the shore had no idea what had happened to them. No doubt they were shaken and disturbed but they should be counted among the lucky for what was to come. |
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| Quicksilver | Feb 7 2010, 11:00 AM Post #3 |
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Superspeed/ Superstrength
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Stepping through the portal, Quicksilver glanced over at Pyro's complaints about the timing and his concern that their mission would be stopped by SHIELD. "Let them show," he told the young fire wielder, "Their fastest quinjets move at a snail's pace. They will see only the blur of our passing, should it somehow be that Ms. Voght cannot teleport us back within a heartbeat." He folded his arms, "At the very least, should they come for us, they will have a hell of a time trying to follow me. It will give you adequate opportunity for escape." He looked at the bridge, red against the deepening blue of the sky, and water. It was a marvel of engineering and he thought to himself that it was a pity that Wanda did not get to see this thing of beauty he was about to destroy. She loved things that were red. Pietro ran his hand through his hair, the fine white cowlicks, as always, resisting all attempts to tame then, misbehaving twin locks of his fringe swept back like horns on either side of his head. He did not look well, Pietro didn't. His sleep had been more troubled than was normal even for the young speedster who rarely had his short sleep uninterrupted when his conscience was clear. He had also lost weight, the Brotherhood hardly adequately prepared for two speedsters, and the appetite of the one known as Blob. There was never quite as much food as Pietro wanted, though had he been an ordinary man it would have been a veritable horn of plenty. Quicksilver was exhausted, he was grim, and at this moment, he was setting his heart into stone. But he never forgot who he was, he never forgot who he wanted to be. As Amelia swept herself and the flame loving dissenter to the top of one of the towers, Pietro dug his foot into the asphalt of the road he stood on, the power of his legs giving him the strength to crack concrete. Screeching of tires alerted him and he looked up to see cars suddenly driverless careening into others. "No," he murmured, "This is not right. Why must everything be death with these people?" He was suddenly running, before his brain formulated a plan, his body was moving, and he barreled through the traffic, streaking to the southbound entrance of the bridge. He leaped into the air and came to a crashing landing on top of the next car set to enter, pausing just for a second, long enough to kick in their windscreen. The driver panicked and crashed into another car, clogging the entryway and preventing anyone else from entering the bridge. Quicksilver was all the way 2,737 meters across the span at the entrance to the northbound lanes before the first car he had attacked had even come to a rolling stop. He skidded to a halt, both hands extended in the gesture that meant stop to even small children. The driver leaned out of the window, eyes wide, "What the fuck? Where the fuck did you come from?" Pietro raised his foot and kicked in the grill of the man's car, at an angle that caused it to slide diagonally in a smoking burnt rubber skin into the second northbound lane. The driver spilled out of the car, a hastily retrieved tire iron in his hand. "You son of a bitch, mutie freak!" He swung his makeshift weapon at Pietro, in ridiculously arthritic slow motion, that he thought was a powerful attack. Pietro caught the tire iron in his hand, and jerked the man to him. "Run," he said to this pissant human. "Run and keep running or you are going to die." He shoved the man backwards and the human made the wisest decision of his life. He ran. Quicksilver ran then too. Not after the man, but in the opposite direction, northbound over the bridge, through the wrecks already caused, hoping to cause a panic and send the pedestrians and the drivers into a stampede off the bridge. Reaching the end, he turned and ran back down the southbound lanes. Back and forth, back and forth, faster and faster, his feet pounding in rhythm harder and harder. The vibrations began coursing through the bridge, causing it to begin to sway, the air filling with a creaking screaming. As he ran, the effect grew worse, and the sway began to cause the cars to rock from side to side. Pietro alone could shatter this bridge, but he didn't push it to the snapping point... ... not yet. But panic had set in, and if people didn't move, hundreds were going to die right here, and right now. |
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| Cameron Hodge | Feb 7 2010, 05:40 PM Post #4 |
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Director of SHIELD
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“Sir, we're getting reports on open mutant activity in San Fran!” Hodge's head snapped around from the data he'd been perusing over the shoulder of the helicarrier's navigator. The ensign who had brought him the news was sweating slightly and looked distressed... this was no ordinary mutant alert. “Okay. Alert the locals. Tell them to send out their team to take care of it,” he said, watching the ensign's reaction carefully. His subordinate seemed to only be half listening to him; his hand was jammed against his ear listening to the report. “Sir... this isn't some kid... eye in the sky says Voght's down there. They're still trying to get an ID on the others, but the computer matches the power signature at 99.83 percent on Voght.” That was all Hodge needed. Whatever he'd been looking at was immediately forgotten as he closed the distance between him and the ensign in three strides, yanking the earpiece and microphone from the subordinate. “This is Hodge. Are you absolutely sure it's not another Brotherhood cell? This is the Brotherhood?” “Yes sir. We have matches on Voght, Magneto's kid, and we got another one coming in now... visual says that crazy that escaped a from the nut house a while back is there too.” He didn't need any more convincing. He glanced over at his assistant, “Who do we have in the area?” She looked down at the data pad in her hand, punching in a few keys before looking giving him an apologetic look, “Dugan, Captain Britain, and Justice. They're investigating a trail, but last report stated that it had gone cold. Last report puts them in Reno.” “Close enough,” Hodge said as he unclipped his personal communicator from he belt and dialed the correct frequency, “Dugan, this is Hodge. Come in.” Moments stretched on before a gruff voice crackled over his receiver, “Dugan here.” "Get to San Francisco now. The Brotherhood is there. As in Voght and Magneto's kid-” “And Pyro,” the ensign yelled excitedly. Hodge gave him a quick glance before turning his attention back to his radio, “Drop whatever you're doing and get over there now!” A few moments of radio silence, then Dugan's voice spoke up again, “We'll be up in the air in two minutes... give us ten and we'll be there.” “I'm sending backup from the Gamma site. As long as you can keep them there and maintain collateral damage to a minimum for about...” he glanced at his assistant who mouthed a number at him, “forty-five minutes, you'll have all the manpower you need.” “Forty-five minutes is a long time... sir.” “It's not a request, soldier!” “Sir.” |
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| Blob | Feb 10 2010, 02:29 AM Post #5 |
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Unregistered
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Blob stepped onto the bridge a few seconds after the rest of his teammates. Getting moved back and forth like a friggin frisbie wasn't exactly top on the big man's wish list. Something about the transportation gave him a big old punch in the gut. He leaned over and caught his breath, putting his hands on his knees and standing crooked for a few seconds. "Why can't we just use planes like normal terrorists," he huffed as he straightened up, taking in the view. The bridge was crowded, full of people bustling across, busy with lives that, for most of them, were about to come to a rather quick and violent end. It wasn't that he had anything against the peppy families that populated the suburbans and minivans speeding across what was about to become a gaping abyss. There was just stuff that needed to be done, messages that had to be sent. Car seats and baby pictures were about to become part of the collateral damage. Blob shrugged at the thought. Had to be done. Amelia and the fire happy boy were halfway up the constructs, all gaseous and floaty, by the time Blob had regained his stature. Just the sight of them jutting up there was enough to make the man want to lean back over. Instead, the bulbous man reared back a foot and slammed it onto the ground, creating something of a shock wave which rumbled through the bridge. Driverless cars started smashing into each other and the bridge was starting to look like the bumper car track in the Texas amusement park Freddie had spent his summers as a kid working at. He grinned as he took in the chaos. It was icing. Pietro mumbled some self righteous garbage and shot off like a dart toward the oncoming and completely terrified motorists. "This is not right. Why must everything be death with these people?" Blob processed the last bit of mumbled mess the speedster had spewed out after he had hit pavement and shout out in reply. "It's cause you're with the big boys now snowflake." He was nearly sue the man wouldn't hear him. "Fucking Samaritans," he mumbled as he made his way out onto the bridge. A blue Pontiac had come to a stop at in the right hand lane. Freddie walked up to it. The bridge moaned and screamed under his weight, though to be honest, he had his gravity field up just a bit in order to make more of an impression on the humans. It seemed to work for at least the inhabitants of the blue car Freddie had halted in front of. An elderly man and a woman Blob assumed was his wife sat in the car shaking, a mixture of fear and disgust on their faces. "Hey folks," Blob said, a toothy grin spreading on his face. "This'll just take a minute." He dug his meaty hands into the hood of the car until he had a firm grasp on it. With a heave, he lifted it into the air. "Say bye bye." He grinned. "Hey snowflake," he screamed out toward Magneto's son. "Wanna save somebody. Here catch." He heaved the occupied car into the air aimed at the speedster. Then, after that was on it's way. He turned to a nearby one and did the same. "There ya go Quicky, a whole fleet of people to keep outta harm's way." |
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| Exodus | Feb 10 2010, 05:38 AM Post #6 |
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Unregistered
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As he stepped through the portal Exodus was greeted with Quicksilver commenting on the ease at which they would all escape the clutches of SHIELD. The Acolyte was confident that much was certain, but was he confident to a fault? Did he overestimate their prowess and think so little of SHIELD that his judgement could not be trusted? Or was he accurately assessing the threat posed by the oppressors? Such thoughts quickly left the mind of the psychic vampire as the others began springing into action. All were making ready to strike or were putting their powers to good use, either causing havoc or controlling access to the bridge. “What a strange dichotomy,” Exodus mused as he called for his telekinetic armour. The orange shell sparked into existence until it became a complete whole. With his power now manifested Exodus began rising into the air in search of a better vantage point in order to determine his course of action. He had only risen a few stories when the Voice began speaking to him. It was different from the others, filled with authority and command while the thoughts of others wafting into his mind were merely whispers in comparison. It was telling him that the wrath of the righteous must be tempered by resolve and compassion. That death of humans was inevitable to defend the rights of mutants, the inheritors of God’s grace but that joy should not be taken from these acts. That Exodus and his brothers and sisters in arms were called to serve a noble cause and should strive to better themselves. It was strange, how the Voice seemed to strike a balance between the vision of Lord Magneto and the compassion demonstrated by Acolyte Quicksilver. That it brought together visions of two champions of mutant kind in such a way was surely proof that the Lord thought him an acceptable agent. Though such a revelation he would keep to himself. Divine inspiration was not readily accepted by most in this day and age. “Hey snowflake," Exodus was shocked out of his moment of philosophy by Blob’s loud scream, "Wanna save somebody. Here catch." With that said the car was airborne. What was he doing? The car was thrown at Acolyte Quicksilver. Without a moment’s hesitation Exodus threw himself at the car. His cape flared behind him as he dove for the car and managed to get his hands on the undercarriage as it flew through the air. Within a matter of seconds Exodus had extended his telekinetic field to encompass the car and was briefly drug through the air by the vehicle as he fought to stop its movement. Fortunately for the mad Frenchman he was able to bring the car to a halt quickly. Lowering it to the ground he took off towards the Blob. The foolish behemoth, toying with the humans, potentially endangering an Acolyte who also happened to be the son of Lord Magneto, Exodus knew that he was going to need to put an end to this foolishness. “You incompetent blundering brute,” Exodus called out as he landed next to Blob, “Do something useful without endangering an Acolyte or nurturing your sadistic tendencies before I do something you will regret.” |
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| Tabitha Smith | Feb 11 2010, 05:40 PM Post #7 |
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Unregistered
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Meltdown was the last person to step through the teleportation door, it was an interesting mode of transportation and it reminded her in a way of how they got from place to place during the Apocalypse battles. She wasn’t entirely sure if she was completely okay with the Brotherhood’s newest plan to get the humans to notice them and rethink their treatment of mutants, but she had agreed to help out if they needed her. There was probably a part of her that enjoyed the excitement of this mission, but another part of her would like to avoid killing anyone or enabling others to kill anyone if they could help it. She liked blowing things up, and was more than a bit of an adrenaline junkie, but she had no real quarrel with most humans. It was times like these that she wondered vaguely why she had left the X-Men, but she was with the Brotherhood now and she would deal with it. Her blue eyes searched the area that they were supposed to attack; there were a lot of people on the bridge, more than she would like to see up there. The rest of her group were working on whatever they had to do to start the attack. Amelia was causing car wrecks, Pyro was trying to get up higher so he could start working on destroying the cables, Quicksilver was trying to actually save people, which was something she would also like to do, but wasn’t sure if she could; Exodus looked like he wanted to kill Blob for being incompetent, which was something that made her roll her eyes and smirk slightly in amusement. She needed to decide what she was going to do... She scanned her surroundings once again, paying specific attention to the bridge’s structure. There wasn’t much she could do but start blowing up sections of the bridge, but she was going to try to find the sections that would be slightly less destructive to the bridge as a whole, so hopefully at least a few people could escape. If nothing else she would cause an impressive distraction, “I can start blowing up sections of the bridge,” she commented to anyone who wanted to listen to her, “If anyone’s got a suggestion about where to start let me know!” |
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| Pyro | Feb 12 2010, 01:44 AM Post #8 |
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Pyrokinesis/Fiery Puns
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St. John braced himself for the teleportation, barely feeling his molecules explode into a gaseous state. In fact, he didn't really know what it felt like being pulled apart on a molecular level. He hardly realized anything at all was going on. The moment he was solidified he was ontop of the Golden Gate Bridge, standing on a platform that provided barely enough room to walk around. On either side was emptiness, held up only by the structure of the bridge's towers and the cables that draped from its apex. "Be careful. Don't get blown off." No shit. Ignoring the growing vertigo in his stomach and his fear of heights, he focused on not looking over the edge of the walkway and instead focused his attentions on the thick cables. He knew a little about bridges, but only so much. The cables there essentially worked as the support for the bridge's length in the middle. If these primary suspensions were taken out, the thing would fall in no time. The only problem was that there could be horrible lash-back. But really, was Pyro going to care? When burning or melting something was the topic, probably yes. Covering his lighter to shelter it from the high winds that threatened to knock him off his feet, St. John clicked the instrument until a flame was born and took hold of the flickering tongue. Letting it flourish in a roaring cloud of orange, it took shape, solidifying into a firey construct. Part cat, part toad, the flaming visage leapt forward and crashed upon one of the cables, limbs forming with sharp claws. The chimeric entity clung to the cable, its face becoming featureless and turning only into a mouth that opened. Thick, shovel-like teeth surrounded the cable, glowing white-hot as they chewed and gnawed, forming melted lines of its jaws until it finally gained a grip and held it. Keeping his focus on the tongue-lined form of the construct, St. John held the creation there. It'd be a few minutes before any progress was actually made. |
[align=center]![]() Olga gets credit for the cinders and gifness.[/align] | |
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| Quicksilver | Feb 12 2010, 03:17 AM Post #9 |
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Superspeed/ Superstrength
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"Hey snowflake," [Blob] screamed out toward Magneto's son. "Wanna save somebody. Here catch." He heaved the occupied car into the air aimed at the speedster. Then, after that was on it's way. He turned to a nearby one and did the same. "There ya go Quicky, a whole fleet of people to keep outta harm's way." A car hurtling at Quicksilver, occupied too clearly. There was really nothing he could do. As fast as he was, and as strong, he could not catch a car when it was thrown through the air. He could stop a car's forward momentum, perhaps, when it was coming at him on the road. He wondered if he would be able, as it came to him, closer to the ground, that he would be able to reach in and get the people out of the car before it smashed against the Bridge without killing them, when suddenly Exodus telekinetically dealt with it and not only saved the humans, but also chastised the rampaging behemoth. With a nod towards Exodus, Pietro continued his pounding of the bridge, the swaying already getting worse. As he zipped past the disgusting obesity of Fred Dukes, he ran around the man, no small trip mind you, and came to a snapped halt in front of him. "If you have nothing better to do then take cheap shots at me, then perhaps I shall pass that information to my father so that he will know not to count on you for your help in these matters. Our task is to destroy the bridge. I imagine with your tremendous girth, you could merely take an idle stroll and it will collapse." The sky lit orange and Quicksilver looked up to see the pyrokinetic monster that the young sadist Allerdyce had produced, "A ierta nouă tot," he murmured. Then he looked at Blob, "Do what you are here to do, and that is cause a panic and bring the bridge to rubble. Read motives in my actions later. We have little time for pettiness." Then he was streaking across the bridge again. He could feel it weakening beneath him, and cracks had begun to appear beneath his feet. He thought it would save a lot of problems if he just went to the ocean floor with it. |
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| Amelia Voght | Feb 12 2010, 04:54 AM Post #10 |
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Unregistered
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Below Pyro and Amelia’s perch the other Brotherhood members were going about the mission. They were creating chaos and panic. They were setting about destroying the bridge. Pietro ran quickly along the road. He became so quick that he was simply a silver and grey blur along the pavement. The beat of his footsteps on the bridge pounded into a pattern that began the structure to oscillate. Given enough time the Golden Gate Bridge would tear itself apart just as the Tacoma Narrows Bridge had in the famous footage. In that instance, a simple vibration amplified along the bridge until it was dancing uncontrollably and shattered. It was amazing how something so small could create such devastation. It was the same concept with what they were doing. With this destruction they were planting the seeds of revolution in the minds of other mutants. Amelia was bracing herself against the winds at the top of the tower. She assumed Pyro was doing the same. If he fell, she hoped that he screamed so that she would be alerted to his danger. She was focused on the mission and quite occupied. She didn’t hear the crackle of flames as the feline-frog creature was born from the Australian’s lighter. She was looking for other targets. The rabble below her needed to be more crazed. Traffic was halting and people were pouring from their vehicles. They were confused at first but then were beginning to see what was actually happening. Amelia had not witnessed the small spat between the Blob and Quicksilver and Exodus’ intervention. As an Acolyte she was to be a leader in Magneto’s absence. She was also to deal out discipline and keep the team cohesive. Again at random Amelia chose several cars and trucks. A few of them were stopped but a couple had been moving. It was a stress on her powers, pushing them to the limit. She had grown stronger over the years. When she was taken by Apocalypse, Amelia was upgraded but she lost those powers when he fell. She had gained powerful experience however. The red head Acolyte chose the vehicles at random and vanished them into thin air. They reappeared roughly one hundred feet above the bridge to fall where they may. She knew that opposition would likely show up. Amelia didn't know which organization would show up but it was inevitable if they took too long. They would just have to finish their job quickly. |
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| Justice | Feb 15 2010, 05:24 AM Post #11 |
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Unregistered
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The world was a pretty messed up place, all you had to do was look out your window to see that. Pick a country you had violence, pick a government, odds were you wouldn't have to search far and wide to find someone corrupt. It was the nature of things. It was why his phone stayed on seven days a week, twenty four hours each day, because you didn't know when the call that the shit was hitting the fan would come in. He had stopped asking questions about why things had to be the way they were long ago, and he had stopped praying for better long before that. Now Vance just met the opposition as it came. He didn't try and wrap his head around the machinations or motivations, and he damn sure didn't try to see things from anyone else's perspective. Most people who sought out evil as a way of life had some great justification or manifesto they believed in. Personally he'd like to tell them all to go and wipe their asses with it. The world required order, mutant, human, hell down to a pet dog, everything required order and rules to abide by. You throw the rule book out the window, you and everyone else is fucked. Civilization hadn't been around for two thousand years because people just did whatever felt good, no you had to have structure, and you had to have order. Laws needed to be obeyed and for those that couldn't wrap their dense skulls around those facts, you needed people to enforce them. He had gotten lucky this time, by shear chance he had been on assignment in Los Angeles when the call from headquarters came in. He was the closest special opps agent around, and it didn't hurt that he had the advantage of flight on his side as well. The information that he had received had been sparse , an attack on the Golden Gate Bride by members of Magneto's Brotherhood, a ton of potential casualties on the line, not to mention the PR nightmare it would be coming on the heels of the mass assassinations that had been November fourth. These guys just didn't know when to stop did they? He had radioed back he could be there in under thirty minutes only to be treated to the knowledge there just might not be anything left in thirty minutes to arrive to, and that back up may be longer then that arriving. Gee Fucking Dandy, the telekinetic mutant thought, Heaven forbid something break easy for once. He had taken off instantly, a mass of surrounded blue energy, as he pushed himself as far and as fast as he could to get to where he needed to be. He'd rather this mission not be a salvage and body bag one if he could help it, besides these shit heads who pissed on everything that was right with the world needed to catch some heat. In the wake of all they had done they needed to learn you couldn't fuck with the world just because you had a large stick stuck up your collective asses, and a mad shit for brains leader who probably just needed to get laid. These so called Brotherhooders needed to know that they didn't speak for all mutant kind with their murders and reigns of destruction. As a mutant he was glad to tell them that, but as a SHIELD agent he was just really glad for the chance to pay a few of the fuck for brains back for what they had done to the President. Vance arrived in the midst of the organized plan. There was a great disgust in the knowledge that the terrorist had more of an organized plan then the people who actually swore to protect the country did. What happened to the days of bad Spy vs. Spy when they tripped over their own feet trying to blow shit up. It was a sad state of affairs when shit heads like this could piss all over everything that was good and then sit back and have a good laugh about their success while you had to sort out the body count. Magneto had been right when he had declared this to be a war, but it was a war on several fronts. The renegade mutants could fight, but they could damn sure expect a fight back. Vance arrived in the midst of the chaos from the altitude he maintained in the air, he could see the innocents scrambling below on the bridge, escaping from cars and in a near panicked stampede trying to get away, to get to safer ground and escape the fates these terrorist had planned for them. He moved in closer to the bridge, it would only be a matter of time before they noticed him as surely as he was noticing them. One of the first thing he had done upon graduating to the rank of agent was study ever available document he could on Magneto and his followers. He wanted to know what he would be going up against, and as they say knowledge was power, but what was happening here was far and away removed from what he had learned from folders on a desk. Seeing a group of vehicles be transmitted like a sadistic peek a boo game the young SHIELD agent headed into the action. Anonymity would no longer be an option, he was going into the veritable lion's den. Reaching out with his telekinetic power he grabbed as many of the vehicles he could and leveled them back to the bridge. He tried to ignore thinking about the ones he couldn't get to. He had to focus on what he was saving, there would be time later to beat himself up about faults, but if he started doubting himself now he wouldn't make it out of this alive. They knew he was here now, which meant if they were smart they would know others were not far behind. Vance cast the quickest of glances towards the bridge. How much longer could the structure hold against the pyrokinetic's work and the brute strength of some of the others. As confident as he was in what he could do he knew if they got things breaking apart he wouldn't be able to hold it together. He spoke into the communicator stationed on his uniform. "If back up is coming, it needs to get here now, cause in a few minuted there isn't going to be a later, and the Golden gate Bridge is going to be a once was" |
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| Dugan | Feb 17 2010, 03:41 AM Post #12 |
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Unregistered
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“Yeah, I hear ya kid,” Dugan spoke over his communicator, “I'm sure Hodge told you we were on our way. We shaved five whole minutes off our ETA, so just pay attention to what's in front of you, we're almost on top of you.” Dugan yanked the cigar out of his mouth and threw it out the window. Tobacco smoke wasn't the main health hazard when you were around the Pyro kid; yeah... Dugan had read the briefings. Unstrapping himself, he slid between the pilot and co-pilot's seats and worked his way toward the side hatch just waiting to be blown open to show the Brotherhood fuckers what this bird's real pride and joy really was. “Captain,” Dugan shouted over the roar of the aircraft's rotary motor, “we're here. Get out there and coordinate with Justice. I want primary focus put on Pyro, the Speedster, the crazy purple guy, and Voght. Dagger, take the girl with the explosives out before she does some serious damage. Get them on the defensive. I'll take the fat guy and provide support fire. The director says he wants at least one alive for questioning, but make sure none of them get away, even if that means use deadly force. You have your orders.” With that, he slammed his fist on the large green button mounted beside the door, causing it to shoot to the side as strong gusts of wind whipped around the soldiers within the chopper/jet hybrid. Without waiting for confirmation of orders, Dugan squared away in front of the gun, adjusting the sights, controls, and counterweights. “Take her down, Lieutenant,” he called out to the pilot. The chopper fell quickly, and as it did, Dugan sighted down the barrel of the canon as he swept it from left to right until he found the massive form of the Blob. He was almost too easy a target for the expert marksman; he was so big. Squeezing the trigger, Dugan let out a yell as the sky filled with the sound of gunfire; massive shells nearly the size of the Major's forearm shot out the barrel and rained down on the massive mutant. He let several rounds loose on Blob and Exodus before swiveling the massive gun on Pyro and letting a couple more rounds loose to support his fellow soldiers. “Arm the headhunters,” he called out to the pilot. “Missiles armed, sir! Sentinel tracking tech activated.” “Lock on Voght and Quicksilver.” “Locked!” “Fire,” Dugan bellowed before unloading several more rounds. Two missiles erupted from bays on the sides of the chopper, immediately locking in on the unique mutant signatures of the two mutants Dugan had designated them for. Designed for such targets and armed with the latest navigation tech with streaming satellite uplink, they'd be hard as hell to shake. |
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| Brian Braddock(old) | Feb 22 2010, 01:15 AM Post #13 |
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Superhuman Strength/ Stamina/ Reflexes, Flight
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The Brotherhood. Brian had heard the name in passing before, but it was most recently that it was a common thing to hear. SHIELD was dead set on finding and stopping them. And with good reason. After reading the files on the terrorist group and it’s known members, he was quite convinced. Even without the files, all one had to do was watch the news or read the newspapers. The Brotherhood was a dangerous bunch with a grudge against humanity. And now they decided to take it upon themselves to destroy a popular US landmark. Brilliant. Sitting in the back of the aircraft, Brian waited patiently. The call from Hodge came in quick and furious. The ride to the Golden Gate bridge was no different. He could feel the aircraft slowing and came to the conclusion that they had arrived at their target destination. Dugan’s barking confirmed it. Right. Time to get to work, then. Pulling his mask on,his communicator in his ear, Brian steeled himself for the upcoming battle. Opening the side hatch, he allowed himself to fall and then fly clear of the craft toward the chaos down at the bridge. It looked as though they had gotten there too late. The bridge was a mess. What people remained on it, were running around in a panic. Brian clenched his jaw and forced himself to focus. What was the point of all this? What did the Brotherhood hope to accomplish by killing and terrorizing these people? What purpose could possibly motivate them to try and destroy this bridge? With no answers to his questions, Captain Britain flew straight for the bridge. The element of surprise wouldn’t matter much here. With the commotion that they were causing he was sure that the Brotherhood was expecting someone, if not SHIELD, directly to respond. Despite what he saw going on in front of him, the Captain was not too happy with the underlining of his orders. SHIELD wanted the Brotherhood stoppped. Hodge wanted one of them captured for questioning, too. What bothered him the most was the authorization to use deadly force. SHIELD was basically giving it’s field agents permission to kill. Captain Britain didn’t kill…not if he couldn’t help it. He just hoped that no one forced him to push things that far today. Another thing that bothered him were the odds. The Brotherhood outnumbered them. And from what Dugan told him, they were in for a dog fight. Brian couldn’t help but get the idea that the Brotherhood was more organized in this operation than they were. Not to mention, where to start? The firebug, the speedster, the Voght woman or, as Dugan put it, “the crazy purple guy.” Scanning the bridge, he spotted the so-called “crazy purple guy.” According to the file, he called himself Exodus. With a target in mind, Captain Britain quickly flew towards his target. Picking up an empty car on the way, he flung the vehicle towards Exodus. |
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| Pyro | Feb 23 2010, 10:29 PM Post #14 |
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Pyrokinesis/Fiery Puns
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Below the apex of the bridge's suspension system the roadway and everything on it began to tremor and vibrate, the silver-haired speedster created foot-sized craters with spider-webbed scracks surrounding them, attacking the bridge by its very structure. Behind him, Amelia was picking and choosing victims -- or so he hoped. She never really seemed like a violent one, but when he saw a vehicle falling about a hundred feet above the bridge he sneered and wondered what the size of the explosion of all that gas would be. The roaring chimerical construct continued to gnaw at the suspensions, creating a very audible, very painful sound of metal straining that made St. John cringe down to his core. He could feel it in his feet and hear it even through the blazing fiend. What was it, thirty or so minutes and that's all he had gotten? He was going to be bitter about it later. That was taking way too fucking long. But, it was about to break anyways. Those things were a lot denser than he had been lead to believe. "Should be enough to let it go under by itself, eh sheila?" he asked Amelia, uncaring as to whether she heard him or not. He could feel the tower of the bridge way with the weakened support. Splitting his focus, the construct split into two, one taking on a chameleon-like body and the other something more akin to a serpent -- both with the same mouth. The chameleon lingered on the first spot, rolling its body around on the cable until its mouth again found a suitable spot to bite on. Moving the other, it half-slithered half-flew to the opposite cable and coiled, attacking it from all sides. As he moved it, St. John's focus wavered, causing the ephemeral fiends to flicker. As it did so, both construct's heads faced in the same direction as their creator. They hissed. Tapping the communicator: "Oi, the Jacks are here." The hum of a helicopter made St. John's beast to reform into a single entity. He looked at the speck as began to enter the nearby spaceship. "Brought toys too." The air screamed with a thunderous applause, white streaks of heavy-calibur bullets darting from the hybridized aircraft to the bridge, causing St. John to instinctively lay flat on the tower and bring his construct in front of him and up onto the bridge-light's stand, hopefully acting as a shelter from the bullets. When the gunner had aimed at him, bullets sprayed over him, sizzling through the monstrous entity and punching holes into the tower. If it was solid enough to withstand earthquakes and a half-hour worth of cat-frog melting potential, Pyro hoped it was strong enough to withstand some bullets. Looking up, St. John saw a few convex dents on the bridge. Well. Shit. They almost got through. Pulling himself onto his knees, St. John backed towards Amelia's side, holding onto the rail for support against the winds. Disassimilating the construct, St. John brought only a piece of it back into his palm, saving it until he needed it. There'd be no way to melt through the cables now. Squinting, St. John watched fire burn on the flying machine and damned himself for not being close. When the dots in front of the flames began to grow brighter, St. John frowned. Fucking missiles. |
[align=center]![]() Olga gets credit for the cinders and gifness.[/align] | |
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| Blob | Mar 1 2010, 05:42 PM Post #15 |
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Unregistered
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This was priceless. The annoying speedster's face seemed to fill with dread as Blob threw the cars at him. Or at least he imagined it did, it was hard to make out details when the pipsqueak was moving so quickly. Freddie pitied the man. To be held down by some sense of loyalty to a breed of people who'd just as soon spit on you as look at you had to suck. Still, the large man let out a hearty chuckle as the last vehicle, a Pontiac he thought, though he wasn't much good with that sort of stuff, flew from his meaty grasp. At least two people occupied it. The big man's fun was cut short by the intrusion of Exodus into his little game. He stopped the cars and then had the nerve to chastise Blob. “You incompetent blundering brute,” Exodus called out as he landed next to Blob, “Do something useful without endangering an Acolyte or nurturing your sadistic tendencies before I do something you will regret.” "Ugh, when did the Brotherhood turn into a pussy parade ?," he muttered to himself before turning to the man who had landed beside him. "The only thing you could do that I'd regret is if you flew off before I get a chance to break yer legs." This wasn't the time for in fighting, Freddie knew that. Still, coinciding his thoughts with his temper was something the bulbous man had never mastered. He would have advanced on Exodus, against plan or not, had he not been interrupted once more, this time by the presence of SHIELD. Perhaps his fellow terrorists, as they had been called with escalating frequency since the assassinations, would see the coming of opposition as a bad thing, a thorn in their machine of a plan. Blob however, saw it as an opportunity for play. Exodus had been right about one thing, Freddie did have sadistic tendincies, he had always had them. He didn't see them as a crutch, more as a bonus, a boon that often came in handy in his chosen line of work. Whatever they were, these SHIELD pricks were just about to provide them a suitable outlet. Shells came hurtling towards the man. He covered his face, the only truly vulnerable part of his body. They hit with great force. He had his gravity field up though. No force on Earth could move him from that spot. They bounced from him, tickling at first but then stinging and finally causing a bit of pain as they became more frequent. "It'll take more than that pig," he screamed as he marched toward another car. "See," he said turning back toward Exodus,"They don't seem so concerned about your life. You run around telling me how messed up I am for not caring about a bunch of people who have wanted me dead since the day I was born. Well, here we are, for all that superiority crap you spouted at me, yer getting shot at same as me, 'cept you get a car thrown at ya too." He motioned to the vehicle he had just spotted being hurled at Exodus from a SHIELD member. Blob crunched the compact car he had come to into a ball in his hands. "I hate to be a one trick pony," he was talking to himself more than anyone else. "But ya gotta use what yer given." With force he hurled the car up at the carrier the shells had originated from. He could feel the bridge weaken beneath him. It was a familiar feeling for Blob. Man things had given way to his massive size. He could tell the structure wasn't far from going and with a grunt stomped against the road, creating shock waves and broke the integrity of the very thing he stood on. |
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7:25 PM Jul 11