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| It is Not Adversity That Kills; (Known Skrull Captives) | |
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| Topic Started: May 28 2012, 12:31 AM (3,735 Views) | |
| Keniuchio Harada | Jun 14 2012, 04:54 PM Post #46 |
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Unregistered
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Harada remained close to Callisto and Sage as they moved away from the gathering area. Not having the time to examine the Skrull weapon, Harada extended his Tachyon field over the Skrull weapon. He then changed his grip so he could wield the weapon like a club and moved to join Callisto at the vanguard of the escape. Two Skrull charged down the White Knight but now he could show his true expertise for combat, even while dressed in a 1000$ suit. Like a baseball batter, he swung the charged makeshift club back behind his back before swinging it forwards, it made contact with the first Skrull's armour, although if it'd been swung by a normal person it'd have just bounced off, but with the Tachyonic field surrounding it, it kept moving through the Skrull's armour and through the Skrull itself like a hot knife through butter. With a large chunk of it now cut away by the power of tachyons, the Skrull fell dead at the feet of the of the White Knight. Callisto leaped forwards getting in front of the other mutants that were now joining the fray, something happened and the gizmo she had retrieved encased her in armour and then created what could only be described of whips made of energy sprouted from her hands. The level of technology that these people had amazed Harada and if it were not a case of them fighting for their lives he would have taken the opportunity to examine it further for his own benefit. "You keep clearing a path Callisto with the others and I'll make sure the greenskins don't get near our map out." Harada spoke out to Callisto, the second of the Skrull that were charging him down went to attack the White Knight however his powers gave him the vital seconds needed to dodge the attack. Swinging his make shift club again the second Skrull fell to his might, clear for a few seconds. With his sights clear he could now turn his attentions back to his duty of protecting the Black Queen. |
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| Roadkill | Jun 14 2012, 06:18 PM Post #47 |
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Enhanced Garbage Rooting
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The strange incantations echoed down the hall to him followed by a heated rush of wind that seemed to threaten to sear the sensitive skin off of his body. The screams of the aliens filled the air again as did an acrid and fowl burning smell that made his eyes water. But still he moved on, heading ever closer to where he now knew that Callisto was. With an all-encompassing vision, he suddenly was aware of another familiar presence…behind him. Stopping in his tracks, he turned slowly to face her. Plague was standing there behind him and when he saw her he actually smiled, moving closer and reaching out to pull her into a thankful embrace. “It sho is good to see your face,” he said. Never mind the fact that he couldn’t technically see. Pulling back his grin faded a little. “We got more time for catchin’ up later. Now we gotta get out of this freaky place.” He jerked his head to indicate over his shoulder. “Callisto’s up this way,” he said. With a concern sort of expression he contemplated her for a moment, but as the air around them continued to erupt with sounds of fighting he knew that this simply wasn’t the time. “Come on,” he said, and turned around just in time to see three green-skinned creatures heading their way very quickly. He pursed his lips and put himself in front of her, not knowing if she had full access to her powers yet. Holding still until they got very close, he suddenly bared his teeth and launched himself at the one in front, clawed fingers digging into supple flesh as he landed on its shoulders and pushed it to the ground. Using the creature as a springboard he leaped onto the next one, narrowly missing the jagged end of some sort of spear. His thin tail coiled around the shaft of the spear and tore it out of the man’s hand with all of his strength. It was then that some sort of blast struck him hard in the left side. |
![]() -Thank you Tommy (not the speedster) | |
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| Plague | Jun 15 2012, 01:10 AM Post #48 |
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Pathogenic Control
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Leave it to the Morlock to sense her first. By now she almost came to expect physical contact from Roadkill. The emotion was fitting, given the situation, and for once she returned the affection without struggle or a sarcastic quip. “You’re lucky I didn’t have a bout of syphilis waiting, Tails.” Alright, so it was a half-hearted sarcastic quip. She squinted one eye at his hesitation, waiting for words that didn’t come. Nick was right, though, reunion and questions could wait, would wait, and she was ready to follow, when the vomit green bastards sought to cut them off. Though the blind man had it in his thoughts that he might play the role of valiant protector, he was sorely mistaken when the third Skrull snuck up on him. Plague barred her teeth at the attacker and launched herself. When she activated a disease there was no showy display for indication. Her eyes didn’t glow, body didn’t float. There was no shimmery field around her lithe form nor colors undulating around her hands. She looked ever the same, death on a pale horse. She hit him with narcolepsy, instantly putting the Skrull to slumber and then twisted his neck at all the wrong angles, snarling a battle cry. Still bent over the crumpled form, Plague claimed another ear and smirked. “I was hoping I could collect more trophies before going home.” The grey woman regarded Nick carefully, worried. "You alright, Blind Knight?" |
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| Warpath | Jun 16 2012, 08:33 AM Post #49 |
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Unregistered
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Chaos. It was the only word to describe the scene that was unfolding before Jimmy's eyes. Where one Skrull fell three more sprung to take its place. He fought wildly, recklessly, trusting Terry and Dontae to cover his back. Mutant captives joined the battle or had been battling the whole time and finally made their way to the larger group, it was unclear to Jimmy. Friends, allies, enemies, even strangers; they all joined the fray. Some were savagely striking back at their captors, others seemed to stagger about in a daze. All James Proudstar knew was that there were far more than he had expected. Yet it wasn't enough. If something drastic did not happen then they would fall and be captured once more. Even as Warpath began to realize these fears, something drastic happened. "Creatures of evil -- hear my call! By Balthakk's Bolts shall now you fall!" Fire swept throughout the Skrull ranks decimating all in its path. "Holy shit." James gasped as their enemies faded into ash that coated the complex. "Doc, I know I've said this a lot but I am really glad you are on our side." Jimmy felt the magic tether between himself and Strange stretch and then loosen, as if it was dangerously close to disappearing. "Doc?" Jimmy rushed to the side of the fading mystic. Others were noticing Strange's disappearing act, calling out to him. Grabbing the Doctor by the sleeve right before he went intangible, James hung on for dear life. "Oh no you don't. Dammit Doc, you can't leave us like that. We still need you. Remember what you told me? That I would have to fight until there was nothing left of me? Well the same goes for you, old man. Are you going to tell me that this is all that the mighty Sorceror Supreme has in him? Fight it, man. Your work isn't done yet." Strange's instructions in the forest about how to be an anchor resurfaced in Warpath's memory. "Your name is Doctor Stephen Strange. You are the Sorceror Supreme, protector of the Earth and all people in it, mutant or human. You are an ally to the X-Men. You have recently come to Skrullos to help we who have been captured by the Skrull. You have given me hope and purpose and for that you will forever and always be my friend." The good Doctor seemed to snap back into this reality but still seemed very much weakened. They were at a crossroads. Even with the Skrulls gone people were still milling around. There was no order. A few had migrated to natural leaders in the group but if they did not all work together they were doomed. Inwardly, James groaned. He knew what had to happen but wasn't looking forward to it at all. He had hoped Strange would be the one to issue orders but the man needed every ounce of strength just to stay with them. While there may have been others in the group far better equipped to lead a team, none of them had his experience or familiarity with the world they now found themselves on. Straightening up, James cleared his throat and projected his voice across the group. "My name is James Proudstar. For those of you who don't know me I am an X-Man known as Warpath, or I was until about eight months ago when I was taken by the Skrull. I escaped once I got here and have been fighting back against these green, scaly bastards and surviving in this godforsaken wilderness since that time. And not to sound cliche or anything..." James helped Strange up and steadied him. "But come with me if you want to live." |
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| Doctor Strange | Jun 17 2012, 08:38 AM Post #50 |
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Master of the Mystic Arts
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He was adrift amidst the colors and the sounds that made little sense. The world turned beneath him, out of phase, out of sync and there was a fight.... a fading fight... ... why did it matter anymore... "Dear disciple, you have done well," whispered a voice in his mind, though he did not know that it was himself that was addressed. In that timeless, painless, endless place, the fading spirit that had been the Sorcerer Supreme of a world without magic knew every world at that moment, every reality where he had wielded powers immeasurable, every world where he used tools to serve the Vishanti... the worlds where he had never been in an accident and he remained a vain and arrogant surgeon, the worlds where he had lost his mind to drink after he lost his hands... even the worlds where he took his powers and abused them, surrendering to evil and tyranny. He saw his Master the Ancient One, and knew the universes where he had killed him to steal his powers. He saw his Gods, he saw the Gems, he saw and knew it all, because he was one with the cosmos and all its greatness. "You have done well," came that sweet voice again, and he realized he was cradled in the arms of a woman, dark of hair and eye, beautiful of face. "There is still so much work to be done though..." "Omnipotent Oshtur..." he whispered, "You exist... I thought... I thought you were a conceit I used to mask the... innate lie in the powers I wield." "Who says your abilities are a lie?" Oshtur smiled, gently, "Because you come from a reality where magic is a manipulation of quantum forces? Sorcerer, what is that if not magic? The gem found its way to you because you were meant to find it. You invoke my name, and that of my husband/brother, that of my offspring, that of the great destroyer and the great creator, and you think it is conceit. How very small the human mind can be." "I don't remember being human..." murmured the fading spirit. "Have I purpose or have I lost all I was... Oshtur, help me." Her smile never faltered as she bent and kissed his forehead, "Child of Man, you don't need my help, but I'll give you my strength." "No..." he gasped, "Don't send me back, please... let me stay here, let me serve you." "There is still so much to be done," Oshtur said again, gently and common, "and there is still a world to save..." The goddess began to fade, and with renewed strength, he clung to her, "Please, at least tell me my name..." he begged. And, as her arms became stronger, bare, dark of skin, and her form became something masculine and grounded in reality. "Dear Disciple, your name is..." ...Doctor Stephen Strange. You are the Sorceror Supreme, protector of the Earth and all people in it, mutant or human. You are an ally to the X-Men. You have recently come to Skrullos to help we who have been captured by the Skrull. You have given me hope and purpose and for that you will forever and always be my friend." James Proudstar said, and as he gave the dispersing spirit in his arms an anchor, form, strength and meaning returned back to him. Stephen Strange opened his eyes and said, semi-deliriously, "You're my friend too, James Proudstar... but you're a poor proxy for my goddess." After a second to collect himself, Strange, still in the blue hues of his astral form, rose into the air and he said, "There will be more coming. If you don't wish another wave of battle, I suggest we beat a hasty retreat to the nearest egress." |
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| Siryn | Jun 17 2012, 09:32 PM Post #51 |
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Sonokinesis/Flight/Vocal Hypnotism
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“Rho!” Startled, Theresa turned and saw her friend, an icy chill running down her spine as she realised that he must have been taken in much the same way that she had, as had all of the people here and so many of them people she knew or at the very least vaguely recognised from the Brotherhood and even the weird Hellfire Club people. “Gettin out sounds good ter me,” her voice was still a little raspy after over a month of being gagged, but at least the damned thing was off and she was able to fight now that she was not hopelessly outnumbered. The battle going on was close and brutal, people didn’t seem to be pulling punches on the green beasties, either out of retribution or the fact they weren’t quite human. How could they be, after how they had treated their prisoners? Siryn fought with her fists as much as her screams, which she held back on for her own sake as much as the ears of her friends and the other mutants around her. The redhead didn’t want to go and make the same mistake that she had back at the mansion when she had blown the doors off of the hangar and shredded the inside of her throat. After all, unless he was yet to appear, Josh had not stumbled out of one of the cells and for that much, Theresa was very, very glad. Her keen ears picked up on the incantations with ease, but even someone hard of hearing would have seen the results of whatever it was that the Strange guy did. The smell that filled the air made her skin crawl and the hairs on the back of her neck were raised, but Siryn could not say that she was displeased to see the Skrulls dealt with so easily and effectively and after a minute staring at the sight before her, the Irish girl relaxed, her breathing getting easier as she listened to Warpath first coax the Doctor back to his senses, then rise up to take command and a half smile formed on her face, shaky as it was. “Y’know I’m with yer, Jimmy,” Terry reassured the big Apache, then glanced to Dontae with a nod of her red head. As relatively inexperienced as she was to her fellow X-men back home, the girl was still an X-man, having fought for the buckle on her belt all the way back in the Complex. Just because she didn’t physically have it with her didn’t matter a spit. Listening to Strange, Siryn cracked a feeble, but still wry grin. “I don’t mind another fight wit’ these bastards, but I’d prefer ter have some water first. And pants,” the girl added the last preference very quietly, looking down at her pyjamas, which did not make for good fighting wear. “Retreat fer now sounds grand ter me though…” |
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| Rho | Jun 18 2012, 11:59 AM Post #52 |
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Density Manipulation, Flight
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He grinned and nodded enthusiastically before pulling a Rafiki on an approaching Skrull and slamming the back of his fist into it's face. He felt bones break and teeth fall out...good. He laughed when Siryn agreed with him and spoke up over the roar of close quarter combat. "See, that's one of the reasons I like you. You got good sense...and you can drink just about anyone short of Logan under the table!!" Bobby came out of nowhere and seemed to be high off his gourd when he poked him. Of course he would be ticklish; his flailing knocked a Skrull into a wall though. "Yeah, Bobby, it's me. Just don't poke me again, I'm tryin to punch green guys in the face. Dodge?" He asked in a bit of confusion before he realized what he was asking. "Dodge is here and here is where we gotta get the hell out of; get it?! And yes, Bobby. For the last time I'm real, man. Now freeze something green and scaly!!" He couldn't help but laugh at the delirious state of his friend. It made him want to just sit back and reminisce about times when his life wasn't at stake; kind of difficult considering the life he lived. He kept fighting though, and would keep fighting until one of three things happened. They ran out of Skrulls to hit, they got taken down, or they escaped. Options one and three were his favored obviously. But he wouldn't stop until...until a giant wall of fire incinerated every Skrull in the hallways, filling them with some weird stench that he was sure would stay in his nostrils for days to come. During the process he stared dumbly at the display of raw power. "Maaaan, did he just-maaaaan." Strange was truly powerful, but such power apparently had a taxing effect on him and he was fading fast. He was by Jimmy's side in a flash as the large Apache went through a lot of words to basically say that Strange was a stand up guy, their friend, and needed to snap his astral ass back into reality. It worked too because he stopped fading away when he got done. A smile on his face, Rho playfully slapped Warpath on the chest. "How long did it take you to write that up?" Strange regained not only his consciousness, but his sense of humor and made a joke about Jimmy not being a good replacement for his goddess...probably one of the names he shouted out before flash disintegrating the Skrulls. "Oh I dunno, Doc...get him the right clothes and some Rouge; Jimmy would make a great Jasmine." Always with the jokes; he was like Bobby, but they helped him keep going. Laurie was here too, and he gave her a small smile and wave. "Laurie, you owe me a soda or somethin'. Your Skrull clone was the one that dumped me on this big rock." Not realizing he was breathing heavily and bent over with his hands on his knees, he straightened up and locked up with Warpath. "I had your back before you saved my ass. I'll follow you to the ends of the Earth...and this place too, I guess." He shared a glance and nod with Terry before turning to strange. Another wave? He had a few more fights in him, but he was concerned about the people who didn't...even the bad ones. "Find me and exit and I can get us all out of here! And if the hole's not big enough;" he looked over to his friends, comrades in arms, and smiled. "We'll make it bigger." |
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| Alix | Jun 19 2012, 04:55 PM Post #53 |
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Telepathy, Telekinesis / Empathy
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He was right. She didn't need him to say anything, do anything, read anything, or feel anything to know that something in the dupe knew what had happened. She still couldn't even begin to completely understand what had happened but knew at her core that whatever it was connected with him. Her eyes shifted frantically to Guido and then back to the dupe with obvious worry. Jamie's face- dupe or not-- betrayed a level of knowing that shook her to whatever core of understanding was actually left in her addling consciousness. That cold look, no sentimentality, no thankfulness for everyone being alright- just business. Serious. No jokes, no smiles. It struck the silence in her thoughts with resounding and resolute fear. And she couldn't say a single thing to try and explain, or apologize for whatever had happened or however they'd gotten here or why she knew that look in his eyes meant that everything was a lie and that she had been the common denominator in alot of things. Instead, all she could do was look between the two with frightfully broken pleading that fell into quick complicity when it was all so easily dismissed. On one hand, she just wanted to run. To get away from Jamie and Guido and XFI and never look back, forget everything until she could figure it out. Get her powers, understand, fix it. She momentarily tried to focus her thoughts but none of it worked and at the end of it all... she didn't want to be alone in this prison while trying to find the rest of the group. It was still all too quiet. Physical sounds? Those would have to do for now. Without that her mind would spiral downwards, delving further into things that had no place in a war zone. Jamie made to find the others and with a still dazed style she rose a hand to point into the direction she'd heard most of the commotion. Jamie and Guido lead the way and she followed until they reached the rest of the people that had been taken. |
[align=center]![]() STRIKE ME DOWN SHOULD HAVE HELD IT ALL ALONE WASH THE QUESTION OFF MY HANDS I'M THE FATE IN NO ONES PLAN[/align] | |
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| Bobby Drake | Jun 20 2012, 12:38 AM Post #54 |
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Unregistered
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JP Between Terry and Bobby Bobby couldn't understand what was happening, it seemed like a breakout, and it seemed like he was finally getting out of the literal hellhole he was forced in. Dehydration and delirium settled in. Rho ensured to him that he was real and told him to freeze the green scaly ones. But he turned to see a wild cavalcade of insanity. His captors, fighting with his friends, and enemies. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend...?" It was all way too good to be true. He shook his head. “No, Man… No this is a dream.” He spoke almost despondently. “Any minute I’m gonna wake up, too hot and alone.” As the others continued to fight, Bobby leaned against the nearby wall, giving a small but sad smile. This was turning out to be one of the best dreams he’s had in a long time. All that was missing was Hart. “Bobby…?” Terry said, uncertainly and slowly picked her way across the messy floor towards him. He seemed confused, or just flat out in denial. “Sorry, but this isn’t a dream. If this was a dream, my hair wouldn’t be a state and I’d have at least a pair o’ shoes on.” Giving the Iceman a weak smile, she reached out and placed a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. “This feels real, aye?” He smiled widely at Terry when she approached; it had been so long since he saw her. “Terry.” She told him that they weren’t in a dream. She’d look and be dressed more presentably. Just then, a defeated Skrull went flying through the air Bobby couldn’t help but laugh. “That was funny!” Terry gave him a weak smile, put her hand on his arm, and squeezed. Her warm hand on his cool skin, he closed his eyes tightly and shook his head. It was so confusing. She felt so real. “Terr… if I start believing it’s real… and then I wake up… I won’t be able to come back from that… I-, I can’t believe it…” His eyes started to water over. The possibility of freedom was so sweet, but he’d be crushed if he woke up from his dream. He shook his head, his mood visibly taking another turn and recalled what he had said earlier to the group. Overhearing it while he sat against the wall. “Is Jimmy the Govenator now?” Was he having some sort of breakdown? Siryn kept her hand on his arm, squeezing a little tighter. How long had he been here? “This is real alright…” but what was he worried about not coming back from? From being rescued or being in the godforsaken prison in the first place? The idea made her shudder a little and almost for her sake as much as his, the redhead stepped into Bobby and wrapped her free arm around him, giving the man a hug. It wasn’t exactly appropriate, but short of smacking him, she didn’t know what else to do and as bad of a rep as Terry had, she couldn’t bring herself to strike Bobby, not like this. “Jimmy’s…gonna get us all out and away. After that…Well. We’re X-men, aren’t we?” He felt her hand squeeze tighter. “Ya know for a dream you’re really strong.” She then told the Iceman that it was real. She needed to stop saying that. He blinked hard to look around him. Suddenly Terry hugged him. He was surprised, shocked, and it made him remember an old memory. Back when he was a kid. So many years ago. Bobby was still in snow form. Scott had helped him and it lead to him reverting back to flesh and blood after being stuck in that form for so long. In his fit of joy, he hugged the red visor-wearing mentor. Of course, he pulled back quickly. Scotty was no hugger. But his lessons, all he taught. ‘Never give up.’ Bobby was pulled from his memory when Terry moved away. Telling him that James was going to get them out and that they were X-Men after all. Bobby lowered his eyebrows. “You’re an X-Man?” Bobby didn’t…Theresa looked over her shoulder, momentarily confused. She had been promoted unexpectedly, right after helping Cyclops when the sentinels attacked New York, literally right after. But that was months and months ago. Giving him a grin that she hoped didn’t look as strained as it felt, the Irish teenager patted him on the shoulder, moving her hand up. “I’ll tell yer all about it, later. As fer bein strong, well blame Jimmy. He taught me how ter box a while ago now,” looking away from Bobby, she sought out Warpath and her smile became a little more nervous. “So…Guess yer know we can’t stay here, right?” Terry pressed, but gently as she could. She hadn’t always been great at this sort of thing and she shifted her feet. As she spoke to him, Bobby tried to look for the telltale signs of a dream. Even though he didn’t know what he was looking for he knew that there was nothing to be found as proof that it was a dream. The logic made no sense. She asked him if he knew they couldn’t stay where they were. A fragment of clarity hit. Bobby spoke sadly, “Scott would kill me if I just sat here. Even if it is a dream...” He still wasn’t sure if it was real or not. But it sure beat the hell out of getting in trouble with real or dream Scott Grey-Summers. He slowly worked his way to standing up. When he was fully upright, he leaned towards Terry and asked, “Hey, did you see the fireball of doom hit the little green men? Only I could dream up something badass like Doc Strange owning.” He was a little bit proud when he spoke, as if it was his doing. “It was somethin else alright,” she marveled briefly; although she had found the sight impressive, they needed to press on. “How about yer dream us up some clothes and decent food, eh?” the joke was as gently phrased as possible as the teenager started to steer him away from the wall. “And I won’t tell Cyclops, promise,” giving him a wink and another tug, she approached the others, shivering from cold and not just because of her close proximity to Iceman. All the same she kept her arm on his, linking it through now they were on the move. As Terry helped move him along he responded, “I’m only dreaming Terry, If I could control it I’d be with Hart on the beach or the Arctic… ‘cept she’s not freezing.” He nodded. They headed into the fray off to face the next challenge. “Thanks for not tellin, Scott. It’d suck to dream a breakout and get yelled at. Mind you… I do kinda miss that.” He gave a distant quizzical look as if he was trying to figure out what the meaning of life was. “I forgot what I was saying…” |
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| Roadkill | Jun 21 2012, 04:02 AM Post #55 |
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Enhanced Garbage Rooting
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Jolted from the side, Roadkill cried out sharply and hit the wall. Gently he felt his side with probing fingers as Plague unleashed her hellish designs on the unfortunate creatures. What was in store for them, he wasn’t sure, whether it was boils and lesions or bleeding from every orifice? As for him his skin seemed intact. Numb, but intact. His attention snapped back just in time to witness Plague twisting the last of the Skrull’s neck into an impossible angle. As she let him go his knees buckled and he fell into a motionless heap at her floor. He wrinkled his eyes up as Plague sliced off an ear of one of the bodies and claimed it as one of her ‘trophies’. His open look of shock and revulsion gave way to an underlying chuckle that soon had him laughing out right. “Damn,” he said with one hand to his shocked side, “you crazy. Remind me to not piss you off for real.” Straightening up, he stretched out his senses, an unseen eye running down the hallways and giving him a clear picture of how many and where they were. “Looks like everyone’s meetin’ up down the way.” He stretched his body to one side, the feeling starting to return. “Man those things pack a wallup,” he said. Reaching down he grabbed hold of the weapon. “Callisto might like one of these, yeah?” Black eyes looking up, he regarded Plague for a second. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get the hell outta here.” (exit Roadkill to Chicken Soup for the Renegade Soul) |
![]() -Thank you Tommy (not the speedster) | |
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| Chrysalis | Jul 21 2012, 08:20 PM Post #56 |
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Unregistered
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(Posted with permission from Cyclops. Please excuse the unholy necro.) In the end, Lucan’s abduction had been a relief as well as a torment. A relief, because the faceless horrors that had haunted his last days in Utopia had been given a face at last. A torment, because the face was worse than any of the shadows his overstressed imagination had conjured up, because it was real. The beasts (or Skrulls, as he later learned them to be) that held him captive, were rational and sapient like human beings, but with seemingly no pity, empathy, or compassion. He was kept in a dark, dank cell, the only light being the unearthly glow that streamed past the bars of the cell door. The food was foreign at best and inedible at worst, being mainly composed of dry, thick-husked fruits and hard, bitter wafers made from who-knows-what, as well as the occasional (maybe raw) hunk of unidentifiable meat. It didn't matter, really, seeing as Lucan's appetite had almost completely vanished since his imprisonment. Additionally, the concept of day and night had completely fled him. Although he knew it couldn't have been much more than a week since his kidnapping, time seemed to stretch out into eternity, both behind him and before him; he had been here an eternity, and for an eternity he would remain. However, what really made his time miserable was the incessant tests the Skrulls performed on him. Ever since his arrival they had shown an obsessive interest in his Parlite crystals. Sometimes they would manipulate his cell conditions to force him to produce them, either cooling the moist air so much that he was forced to build himself a cocoon just to stay alive or releasing chemicals similar to those used by Rage into the air, causing him to power up and wildly attack the walls and doors of the cell with a fury that always left him vomiting afterwards. He never saw the Skrulls during these episodes, but sometimes he thought he could hear them laughing. Worse still were the times when the not-so-little green men came and dragged him from the (relative) comfort of his cell and brought him to their twisted lab. Sometimes, they would sedate him and hook him up to a machine that sent artificial impulses through his nerves, a form of mind-bypassing body control. At first, his body rejected the foreign signals, arousing the ire of Lucan's tormentors and bringing a number of punishments on his head. However, eventually his body became acclimated to the machine, and Lucan watched in dismay from his half-drugged stupor as his crystals, which had always been as an extension of body to the young mutant, sprang forth from his body and shaped themselves at the will of another. However, the monsters failed to do the one thing they desired the most; remove samples of the crystals from his body. They tried threats, pain, artifical power stimulants, even mind control; no matter what they did, the Parlites disintegrated as soon as they went outside touch. These failures only served to anger the Skrulls more, eliciting more pain and a whole lot of shouting. Sometimes the words were in a foreign, guttural tongue that Lucan did not even try to understand, but occasionally his tormentors would lapse into English, screeching for him to “give up control” and “let us have them.” At first, he tried to explain that the crystals actually couldn’t leave his body and he wasn’t doing anything to prevent them, but the creatures, if they understood him, paid him no heed. It was thus after a particularly long and grueling lab session that Lucan was returned (none too gently) to his cell and promptly fell asleep, before his captors could think of anything else to torment him with. He was thus deeply immersed in feverish dreams of shapeshifting invaders when Doctor Strange arrived on the scene. While the guards slumped to the ground and his fellow prisoners rushed for freedom, he slept. While enemy reinforcements arrived and the would-be escapees engaged in a fight for their lives, he slept. It wasn’t until a familiar scream rang through the halls that Lucan, several cell blocks away, awoke with a start. “Theresa?” He had only heard the Siryn scream once before, but it had made a lasting impression. He sprang up and dashed to the cell door, straining his ears, praying that he hadn't imagined it. There it was; the sound of battle. Not the hopeless, isolated rebellion of a single desperate prisoner, but an all-out brawl for freedom. Something clicked into gear in the back of Lucan’s head, and in an instant his leg was encased in crystal and crashing against the door. On any other day this would have been an exercise in futility, but something had deactivated the magnetic lock that held door in place, and it flew outwards, hitting the wall of the corridor with a tremendous crash. He bolted out of his cell, Parlite armor forming around the remainder of his body and a short, jagged blade appearing in his hand. Up ahead, a lone guard rounded the corner, drawn by the noise made by the door's impact. Fueled by adrenaline and desperation, Lucan hurled himself at the Skrull, batting away its gun-like energy weapon and driving the knife through the beast’s chest and out the other side. The Skrull. whose face had been brought very close to Lucan’s, froze and stared at the mutant with a mixture of horror and disbelief. Lucan also froze for an instant, transfixed by the creature’s gaze; he had never killed a human before, and although the cruel creature writhing on his blade was hardly human, it was a sentient humanoid. He shoved the lifeless corpse onto the floor and stared at the blade, coated with the green gore of his victim. His adrenaline vanished, and he felt the sudden need to vomit. He was not allowed this liberty, however, as three more Skrulls rounded the bend. Before he had a chance to react they opened fire, one concussive blast hitting him square in the chest and send him hurtling backwards. He landed hard on his back, his armored head once again snapping back and hitting the floor with more force than was good for him. In an instant the monsters were upon him, and Lucan was forced to curl up in a solid shell of crystals just to survive. Even so, the assaults of the Skrulls, blunt, blade, and blast, were almost too much for him to stand, and he could feel his hold on the shell beginning to weaken as his grip on consciousness did likewise. Then, he heard a loud voice, somewhat muted by his shield, and a rush of heat. Suddenly, the attacks stopped. For a full three minutes he kept his guard up, fearing that his respite was a ploy to draw him out into the open. When he did lower his defenses, he did so slowly, absorbing a few crystals at a time. However, when his shield diminished enough to show him he was no longer surrounded by Skrulls, he quickly absorbed the remainder and stood up, looking with amazement on the scene that greeted him. His tormentors were gone, replaced by three neat piles of ash. Also, the sounds of battle had faded, leaving the dungeon feeling... dead. Like a tomb. A strong sense of claustrophobia gripped Lucan and he jogged towards the place where he had heard the sounds of battle earlier, Parlites abandoned. Even if his mind wasn’t too shot to put new crystals together, right now he didn’t really want them around anyways. [Exit Chrysalis] |
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2:24 PM Jul 11