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| Out of Time; Secret Warriors first, Defenders Later | |
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| Topic Started: Jun 5 2012, 08:27 PM (1,149 Views) | |
| Stature | Jun 5 2012, 08:27 PM Post #1 |
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Unregistered
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May 20th The Arctic Circle After The Skrull Invasion Holy moly was it cold here. Days upon days of searching up and down this god-forsaken Ice Cube was beginning to have its toll on her. Whoever had done away with the facility had done a damn fine job. Whoever had erased the records of its location, well, they'd done a damn fine job too. He'd been right, that night he came and grabbed her. Something was rotten in SHIELD and now, with what all had happened earlier today? Well, just damn. The woman, a giant in stature, moved across the tundra, and she scoured through the blowing drifts of snow, clicking onto thermal vision to help. This was the last quadrant, the last chance. If it wasn't here, well, they were on the wrong dang island. "Doc? Pilot? Director?" She looked around for the others, who she couldn't see but for the faint thermal outlines in her field of vision. Luckily, Pilot's mutant gifts helped them circumvent the Skrull's little powerplay today. "You guys seeing anything?" She listened to the garbled feedback as she shrank down, the world growing massive around her as she smacked the button on the harness at her back, cybernetic wings unfolding as she hovered off the ground. Sometimes, the devil was in the details, and you know, being small helped make those details help a lot more. But then again, wind was ever present in this part of the world, and she was buffeted out of control, still not used to how this crazy new gear worked. Her four-inch self bounced across ice and snow, leaving a fluffy imprint where she landed. What had she hit? It felt like... She turned around, growing back to normal size as the wings folded back into the device on her back, the front of her helmet folding away to reveal her face, snow stinging at her cheeks. Gloved hands clawed through drifted snow until she found it there, buried half deep in the permafrost, a vibrant gravestone left by who-knew-who? She stood from the snow, stepping back and radioing away. "Director," She said, looking down to the red, white, and blue shield. "I think we found 'em." |
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| Rae Jones | Jun 5 2012, 11:30 PM Post #2 |
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In the midst of the snow stood a girl in a regular tee shirt and pants. She appeared as out of place as a chicken in a pond. Normally her SHIELD uniform would at least appear more appropriate, but such times were necessary when you weren’t supposed to be alive. For anyone else they would have frozen, but not the girl standing in the middle of the Arctic Circle. Her abilities made her lucky in so many different ways. Her whole life she felt was full of lucky draws. Hopefully her luck would continue on, and they would find what they were looking for. They were in search in something of great importance. Rae Jones, aka Pilot had her quadrant almost completely searched. Nothing. She sighed dissatisfied, just in time for Stature to report in. She called over if they had seen anything. “Stature,” Her New Zealand accent still as strong as ever, “Pilot here. I’m almost fully completed with my search and have found nothing.” It would be shortly after the others reported in that Stature would speak again. Pilot’s green hazel eyes went wide, but she had to quickly collect herself, which would take all but two seconds. When she did she called though, “Stay there I’ll patch your coordinates to the others. I’ll be there shortly.” The kiwi girl moved quick to make sure the others would receive the coordinates in a matter of seconds. Once she had done the deed she moved fast through the snow, locking on the location heading towards Stature. |
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| Doc Samson | Jun 6 2012, 02:20 AM Post #3 |
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Gamma radiated strength, stamina
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"Overconfidence," said the large man who had watched the so called Skrull Queen's little announcement, on a tiny hand held, in a place so far off the map no one had. He pushed his green hair out of his eyes and said, "Interesting, there are definite signs of over compensation in her words, and tone. She's a megalomaniac with an inferiority complex? A dichotomy to be certain. Whatever these skrull are, they seem to be a race in great need of therapy. I imagine that it's hard to have a lot of self worth when you're genetically created to take the shape of others. Director," he looked up from his musings, "When this is over can I have a few of them to study? I think I could possibly get a published..." "Director," A staticky voice called over the sound of the wind and the blowing snow. "I think we found 'em." Almost immediately Pilot responded to patch the co-ordinates in, and Dr. Leonard Samson, in the command seat of this vehicle, turned to his passenger and said, "Shall we, Director?" It took them six minutes to reach the location, and Samson, dressed in the standard Shield cold weather snow suit, hefted the frozen shield out of the snow, "There's no mistaking this, is there?" He held out the sonar device he had been using to scan the permafrost for some sign of the foundations of the lost Outpost. Static, only static. "Damn it," Samson muttered, "There's too much interference, the same as it's been this whole time." Several months ago he'd been pulled off of the Thunderbolt project, pulled him out of his assigned supervisory position in the relative comfort of the helicarrier into this frozen hell by a ghost, searching for something that was a small part of what was proving to be far larger than anyone truly understood. Looking over at Stature, Samson said, "Well, we know it has to be here somewhere, right? I suppose this is a time when I should use my brawn in conjunction with my brains, hmm?" Stomping his feet, Samson tromped through the snow, driving his boots deep into the permafrost, cracking through ice and frozen earth to stone, to stone, to stone... to metal. "Ah ha," he said to himself, "Samson smash..." Reaching down, his gloved hands found purchase, and he wrenched what he found up through the months of snow that covered it, and flung it to a tiny dot on the horizon. Unclipping his flashlight from his belt, he shone it down into the hole he had made, "It's a shelter, definitely, Director, Ladies. This is the beacon point." |
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| Stature | Jun 6 2012, 02:39 AM Post #4 |
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Unregistered
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She stepped back while Samson worked his mansion, standing there in full Superhero regalia and, compared to Pilot and Samson here, feeling a bit over-dressed. Oh well. Cyber-wings and her dad's helmet. So. Worth It. The ground beneath them all shuddered and as Samson tore a chunk of steel and concrete and insulation from the crater he'd made in the permafrost, she watched it sail away in the wild blue as he shone a a flashlight down into the entry point. Those multifaceted cybernetic eyes looked up beyond Samson, to the shape of their shadowy leader moving in towards them, and as he gave her a nod, she looked back to the hole. "I'll go scope it out." She lept into the dark, shrinking as she went, and the wing bloomed, giving off a dull dim glow in the dark. Her helmet switched to nightvision, and she could feel the cold inside almost instantly cutting through her suit's insulation. "Dang. I think it's worse in here than it is up there..." Thermal vision engaged and she saw the trip lasers bloom up in the dark of the room. Zipping her small frame around them she moved to the source of one. "Trip mines," she said. "Lemme see if I can..." Her voice faded off into static as she flew to the device on the wall. Looking at the shaft of light shooting down into the dark to keep her bearings. She punched the toggle with what strength she could muster, and watched as the laser died in her HUD's vision. She did it again, and again, and twice more, clearing a landing area for them inside before flying back within signal range. "Some kind of jammer down here, but its safe to come on in." She landed then, the visor of her helmet folding back as she looked around before popping a glow tab from a pouch at her belt and tossing it to the ground, the eerie green light billowing into the immediate area. "Creepy." she muttered to herself. "Hope they're okay." |
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| Rae Jones | Jun 6 2012, 03:27 AM Post #5 |
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Unregistered
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The small team rallied to Stature’s location in good time. She stood behind as Samson spoke of using his brawn rather than his brain. He stomped with incredible power and punctured a hole. The New Zealander looked down the hole and spoke, “Impressive as always, Doctor.” Pilot noticed that Stature had looked up and followed her gaze to see what she was looking at, she couldn’t contain a small smile when she said she would scope out the shelter. She listened with the others as Stature gave them a play by play of what was going on below. “Well if you find electrical power let me know I’ll see if I can’t get you heat.” Then she told them about the trip mines. Her voice faded as she spoke, the electrical mutant tilted her head to try and listen better. Pilot flashed the Director a worried look when the sounds of Stature punching were heard. The relief washed over her face when she called out that there was a jammer but it was safe to go in. She looked to the Director and Doctor Samson and looked down the hole, “Here goes nothing.” She jumped into the hole and landed on her feet. The girl took a few steps forward towards Stature and the green glow to allow the two men that was topside in. Looking around she commented to herself, “Wouldn’t mind trying to find the lights in this place either.” She took a breath and looked around, “I’m going to try to turn the power on.” Suddenly she zapped out of sight and into the image inducer. Seconds later, a bolt of blue electricity shot out of the image inducer and into the device Stature had punched. It shot off sparks but it was still closer to a system that would lead her to possibly accessing the power. Pilot traveled through the currents, searching for power. Maybe if she searched enough she could help further and guide the others through. But for now, the lights would do. After searching for a few more moments, she saw what she was looking for. ”Bingo.” The lights for the area around the team flickered on and off. A few short moments later a shot of blue electricity landed right on the hard light image inducer that fell to the ground. Pilot had re-appeared in front of the team. “The system is old, but the lights will keep. Director?” She turned to the Director waiting for the orders to be passed. |
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| Doc Samson | Jun 6 2012, 06:24 AM Post #6 |
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Gamma radiated strength, stamina
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Samson followed the girls through the compound, hearing the Director's footsteps echoing behind him, and he slowed his own pace. It was not as if the Director needed protection, but it was his nature to do so anyhow. The gamma form he had subconsciously chosen was that of a stereotypical superhero after all. That said a great deal about his ideas of his own inner self. The compound had been hit and hit hard, probably by whatever it was that demolished the above ground structure. Shelves were over turned, file cabinets tipped over. Books and papers were scattered about, wires hanging down. Samson spotted several large cracks in the concrete of the walls and he said, "We need to step carefully down here, Ladies. This place is none too stable." Pilot brought the lights up and ahead of them was a room, large and seemingly empty accept for several large vats, like industrial size freezers, thick wires and cold steam decorating them like some mad scientist's lair. Samson approached one, using a ham sized hand to brush the frost off the thick glass, not entirely surprised to see the pale white face of Pietro Maximoff on the other side. "It's them," he said, moving quickly to open the vat, breaking the seal with a loud pop and hiss. "Quick," he ordered, "Get these vats open, all of them. Check for life signs. Pilot, can you get us any heat?" Samson was a doctor of the mind, not the body, but he knew enough to be able to tell that while Pietro's breathing was shallow and his heart beat was slow, he was indeed alive. Leaving Maximoff for the moment, he moved quickly to the next vat, breaking the lock off easily, and throwing the lid aside. Warren Worthington, his blue skinned face almost ashy grey, curled uncomfortably in a nest of razor blade wings. "Stature, Pilot?" Samson called, as he laid his fingers on Warren's throat to check his pulse. "How's it over there? Director?" |
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| Nick Fury | Jun 6 2012, 07:00 AM Post #7 |
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The Spy
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The Director stepped forward, lowering his hood to reveal a dark skinned face, goatee'ed, scarred around an eye patch that covered a missing eye. Nick Fury, the only one amongst this group that had no superpowers beyond a long life, and an unparalleled determination, stepped into the eerie greenish glow of the light stick and the fading flickers of the power system that Pilot had reactivated. As Samson began to rip the lids off these vats to reach the men and women slumbering inside, Fury chewed on the end of an unlit cigar and crossed the room, almost as if he had a sixth sense about which one of these vats held the hibernating form of Captain America. Lifting the lid of the vat, Fury looked down at the relic, the legend, and he said, "Well, isn't this deja vu." Reaching into the vat, Fury ripped the cables out of the control panels, making the lights inside the cryochamber go dim. He watched the Captain's chest rise and fall, shallowly, almost not breathing at all. "C'mon, Cap, you still have work to do, Soldier." Nick Fury had been under deep deep cover since the Apocalypse, when the first suspicions of what was to come first came to his attention. Knowing what but not who, not when. That was unacceptable, and so he had gone under, with those he trusted, with those who mattered. As the group in the buried bunker began to rouse those who had been trapped here for months, Fury stayed with the Captain. "They were supposed to be skrulled," he said, explaining to the others, "All indications were that they were being subdued in order to replace them, but something stopped that, someone on their side was compromised. The question is who? And why?" Looking back down at Captain America, he was reminded of how when he was a younger man, though not as young as he looked, he had watched a scene nearly identical to this, this very man frozen until the day his country needed him. "Wake up, Cap, now is when the world needs you. It needs all of us." |
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| Captain America | Jun 6 2012, 07:18 AM Post #8 |
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You think this letter on my head stands for France?
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Clinging, clinging to that wing, crawling across the edge of those wings in that driving rain, reaching out, losing grip, falling. Charging a beach, the smell of impact and the feel of sulfur as they ran across red-stained sand. Diving behind tank-stoppers on the approach to those gun-nests. A round of drinks at some pub in Jolly Old London town with friends who were now mostly gone. A night in Paris with a woman who he'd loved despite never knowing her name. "I don't know you, I don't know you, American..." Lowering his head, he muttered, "Sorry, Cap... " James Buchanan Barnes was alive. "GUH!" As the gasses inducing that unnatural, nightmare and dream-riddled hibernation began to wear off, he came back to the world, the sights around him spinning wild and out of control. A scuffed glove moved to the edge of the icy coffin, gripping at it as he pulled himself forward, stumbling until he caught himself on the shoulder of a man he hadn't seen in years. "Fury!" He said, coughing. "Wha... Where..." He stepped backwards, placing a hand against the cryo-unit for stability, rubbing his hand into his face. "Where the..." His eyes went wide. "Bucky Barnes is alive, we've gotta stop him before he gets..." The epiphany hit late as he looked around, looking to the assembled newcomers and to his own team as they slowly each and every one prized themselves from the units. What the hell had happened? There wasn't any sort of indication that their intel had been bad. no reason for this to be a trap. And yet at the same time, he didn't believe this had entirely been Barne's job. If it had been, considering what had been done with his old friend, how he moved and spoke, well, he wouldn't be here breathing right now. "So he's gone..." Steve said, face haggard as if he'd just woken from a sleepless night. "How long have we been here, and why are you here? Where's Hill?" |
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| Wanda | Jun 7 2012, 03:50 AM Post #9 |
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Reality Warping
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JP between Wanda and a bunch of Heather's characters Nothingness became something in a heartbeat of time and Pietro Maximoff sat up with the abruptness that was his and his alone. "Wanda..." he croaked, his throat so dry it felt like sand had been packed within it. There were wires and tubes and hoses draped over him, and he ripped them free, pushing himself too quickly to extract himself from this strange coffin. Weak from hibernation, Pietro was easily pushed back by the giant hand of Dr. Leonard Samson, and the green haired behemoth chuckled lightly, "Easy, Maximoff, your sister is being seen to. Give yourself a moment or two to recover." "A moment or two is a lifetime," Pietro spat, "What is this, Samson, this was a trap, some sort of trap. Shield betrayed us, surely. How else would that assassin know so easily how to capture us..." His voice trailed off as realization suddenly took him, "Why capture? Why not kill us? We all... Are we all still alive?" He tried to get up again, only to remain pinned by Samson, "I have no qualms about breaking your wrist if you do not let me see my sister, you viridian tressed lout." Not losing his smile, Samson lifted his hand just the amount it took for Pietro to slide out from under it and climb on wobbly legs. "She's over there," he said, indicating the vat that Wanda was in. His legs felt like noodles, but Pietro would not let that stop him. He was the son of Magneto, he was a gypsy, and most of all he was a brother who very much loved his sister. Despite the numbness in his limbs that made him as clumsy as he had been as a child, he was a blur until he reached Wanda's side, carelessly pushing past the female agents who were attending to freeing the others. "Wanda," he whispered, scooping her up in his arms, brushing her dark curls from her face, "Wanda, my sister, are you well?" Dread bore down on Wanda as her consciousness struggled to awake after its long slumber. Her fingers, her skin, her lips felt numb, frozen with the cold and the drugs from the pods that kept them asleep. She didn't have the physical strength of the captain or her brother, her weak breath coming out a feeble puff of air as she listened to Pietro fussing at the doctor. In an instant her thoughts went back their childhood and Pietro fussing at their mother, squalling to be in the same crib. She clung to his embrace when her brave Pietro finally appeared over her. She tried to speak, but her words were only breathy sounds. Instead, she nodded and pressed her cheek to Pietro's chest and listened to the rapid thumping of Pietro's heart. Lifting her head she looked up into his eyes, "Oh, my Pietro," she moaned, her eyes suddenly wide, horrified at her thoughtless selfishness. "We have been asleep for a long time. Too long. Oh Pietro, forgive me for not twisting fate to spare you the time you have been away from Avery. I could..." she let the unspoken possibility of reversing time dangle in the air. Wanda was all apology and concern and Pietro smiled down at her, "This is none of your doing, dear one. Do not concern yourself at all. It is the fault of that maniac who waited us here. It is the fault of Shield for sending us to this place." "Quicksilver, the man who attacked you is a private contractor, not a Shield Agent," said the man with the eyepatch, who glared balefully at the twins from across the room. "I think there are some things you all need to know before..." "Who are you?" Pietro demanded, releasing his sister and turning to the man, "Explain to me why I should care about your opinion on this matter?" "Pietro," Samson said, not losing that insipid smile of his, "This is Nick Fury, the true Director of Shield." "Oh, I thought you were dead," Pietro said, his expression not changing. With a harumph, he said, "Well, be that as it may, that 'private contractor' has caused us to lose how long? Months? Valuable time better spent..." "We are at war, Maximoff," Fury said, his voice never changing, "The entire planet has been infiltrated and affectively conquered by a race of shapeshifting... well, aliens, possibly, we're not clear on that, yet. What we do know is that yes, valuable time has been lost. I've been working covertly since my 'death,' because we were aware that something was happening. Unfortunately, this is what happened." "But the heroes, the X-Men and X-Factor, they will lead charge against them," Wanda found herself unsteady on her feet and leaned against the vat that had been her bed for months. She looked over at the one-eyed dark man, "No force will stand against them, not gods and not aliens." Then she frowned as her thoughts leapt and jumped ahead to the obvious conclusions. "But the cost," she shivered reflexively. "Billions of lives were lost to Apocalypse. Is that a danger from this new enemy?" "The X-Men haven't responded to our communications," Samson said, "According to our contacts amongst those who remained in New York after the attack that destroyed their school, Utopia has become unreachable..." "What?" Pietro's head snapped towards Samson, not even caring that these people knew about their supposedly secret refuge. "Unreachable? How? When?" Fury put out his hand in a calming gesture that everyone who knew Pietro knew was useless, and he said, "There is no reason to believe this is anything but an attempt to separate and divide the biggest opposing threats. The communications between your groups, and your transport were hit almost simultaneously." "Transport?" Pietro frowned, "The Blackbird? Summers must be beside himself. Was anyone injured?" "Not that we know of," Fury said. "We are in a great deal of trouble here. These Skrull have made every effort to shatter the patterns of strength, putting our hero communities into disarray. You're the only group we know of that hasn't been compromised," he looked over at Captain America, and he said, "And, we believe it's because the man who was sent to capture you turned out to have a connection with you. We don't have positive identification that he is Bucky Barnes but I'm inclined to believe there is more to all this than we know. However, that is a matter for another time barring a time machine to take us back three months, and if that was possible, I'd prefer we use that time preparing against this attack." Though the eyepatched man had the unmistakable aura of authority, Wanda's dark gaze found and locked onto that of the doctor. "It must be hard being a goddess," she said in a dull voice, they were words that he had spoken to her when he was taking the measure of each X-Factor member for SHIELD. "It still is." Wanda looked to the man and felt waves of power and determination forged over long and painful years radiate from him, the sense of power that radiated from her father, a bit of knowledge she was sure neither man would appreciate knowing. "It is a simple thing but a very draining thing, to walk back through time, but it can be done. But the Defenders do not follow you," she told him and switched her attention to the Captain. "He is the leader of the Defenders, the one we follow and trust. Now that we know what has happen and when it happened, we can not prevent the events that have already occurred, that would be too dangerous, but with foreknowledge, we can prepare. But if we do this, it must be now, the window is closing," she warned the star-spangled crusader. |
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| Wonderman | Jun 7 2012, 04:29 AM Post #10 |
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Invulnerability, Flight, Ionic Powers, Loving Every Minute of it
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It felt like no time at all, like he had been there, with Wanda, talking about their future. And now he was here, wherever here was. He woke slowly, forgetting where he was at first. The dream that had been his companion all this time was a sweet one. He was with Wanda. She was his wife. They had children, twins. Life was good. Life was perfect. Now, it was all cold and hurt. He stretched. His body was sore and lazy from atrophy. He found a group had gathered, Agent Cassie Lang among them. He turned to see the formation. Was-Was that Nick Fury?! He snapped up, seeing that the others had woken ahead of him. He wondered if that was some sort of homosuperior thing, but there were more pressing matters to deal with. "Bucky Barnes?" He asked, a bit out of turn. "Your Bucky Barnes? And I missed him," he muttered. Though he had yet to admit it to him, Simon was something of a Captain America fanboy. The thought of seeing his hero and his thought dead sidekick together again was a dream, regardless of the circumstance. They continued, speaking of all that had happened since they had been under the deep freeze. "It's happening," Simon muttered. He had always wondered what was out there, how they would interact with us. But Wanda, as always shed some light. "Listen to her," Simon said, taking Wanda's hand. "My girl knows what she's talking about |
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| Rae Jones | Jun 7 2012, 05:19 AM Post #11 |
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Unregistered
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They had found the vats; it was them, the Defenders. A wide smile planted across Pilot’s face. Doctor Samson broke through one of the vats and called for her. “Yes, Doctor.” She rested her wrist that held the image inducer on a nearby counter; she didn’t want to risk having the cuff fall to the floor and breaking it. A shot of blue electricity shot upward and in through the wall. She traveled the current. Looking where she could for the heat. This was urgent, but she couldn’t help the excitement she was feeling, finally after so much searching. It took some time, but she finally managed to find the controls for the heat. She turned it slowly while still in the current. It would get warm soon, a relief to those who could feel it. She travelled back as quickly as she could. Hearing the conversation as she returned, the electric current wasn’t too happy with the words she was hearing. A shot of blue electricity flew back to the cuff. From the cuff, Rae formed once again. It never got tiring for her to travel as such. The Kiwi spoke with her accent still present, as always, “If you think you could go back and effectively find who is impersonating your friends, all of them… I think I would not even object to travelling back in time. But something tells me it wouldn’t solve our situation. She looked to each of them, all the heroes assembled to protect the people. “The Earth is in serious danger from a force I’ve never seen before. And trust me I’ve lived long enough to see a lot. Will the Defenders answer the call for help?” It might have been overstepping her bounds, but if they were going to make a move, time travel, or otherwise it seemed no matter what their time was severely limited. She hoped that they were confident enough to stop what needed to be stopped in the past, but knew in her electrical heart that it wouldn’t help. Not doubting the power of the Scarlet Witch, but not underestimating the power of their enemy. She spoke respectively, and in a calm tone. The female gypsy spoke of Captain America as their leader. Raegan looked to him, hopefully to hear an answer that would save them all. The heat was flowing by then. Not that she’d feel the temperature change, but she heard the system click on. “Captain?” |
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| Captain America | Jun 7 2012, 09:26 PM Post #12 |
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You think this letter on my head stands for France?
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Rogers ran a hand over his gruff face, then back along his neck, working out the stiffenings of two months of unwanted sleep. His head was still spinning, with all this new news, these new revelations and epiphanies. His eyes scanned the room, all these odd hushed caskets spilling out his allies and the words bounding around the room as Pietro saw to his sister. The others were waking as they went he stepped around, shaking off all the numb of his hibernation as Fury filled them in. Skrulls. Aliens, whatever. The Director painted a grim picture. But he'd dealt with grim pictures before. He'd deal with them again after they fixed this mess. He looked to Fury as he brought up the contracted killer sent to dissuade them, the one who had, apparently balked at the last moment, who had failed to do whatever he'd truly meant to do. There was a reason he was alive, that his teammates, no, his friends, here, were all still alive. "That was most definitely James Barnes, Nick. No mistakes, and once this is sorted, I'm gonna find him and fix him." But there were other priorities right now. Lives hanging in the balance, and no matter just how much he wanted to go out and find that Winter Soldier, no matter how much he wanted to check in on those few he had who he'd call friends, he knew that this was a day unlike any other, and that the Defenders alone couldn't stop it. They needed a plan, they needed to knit all the broken connections back together. They needed an alliance that would stand against all this horror Fury testified to the gravity of. The world needed its heroes and its heroes they would get. Personal problems would have to fall by the wayside. He pulled a face, moving across to a shelf, looking to the dented, dinged helmet that had been pulled from his face, presumably before he was put to rest. He picked it up, turned it over in his hand before tossing it back down, running a red-gloved hand through tangled hair that had grown wild and unruly in his time sleeping. Wanda spoke of moving somewhere safe, but nowhere now. She was talking about time-travel, bending the natural laws to allow them a step back, to give them time to prepare. She was right to say that they couldn't change anything, to do so could very well break everything, but to be forewarned was to be forearmed, and though he didn't like it, it was tempting. One of the women with Fury, a young thing that looked so out of place amongst them all, with her casual clothing and blank expression spoke up, echoing his own worries about troubling with the natural order. He took a deep breath. Steve Rogers had, for three years now, been a man out of time. He'd be nearly 92 this year, and he looked to be barely past his mid twenties. Every friend he'd ever had (well, almost) was gone now, or going. This was the world he'd returned to, a world that, beneath the surface, he'd secretly destested, with all its shallow changes and broken values. A world full of overt villainy in so many of its danker corners. That was the world he hated, but there was so much more. It was a world growing, one that was in the throws of change. Acceptance was on the rise, despite the uglier parts of this revolution. Mutant kind, though hated or feared by many, stood up against that prejudice, and many of them sought to look past it, to protect those who would see them locked up or done away with. Mankind as a whole stood up against those self same prejudices, damn what the government wanted them to think. It was a world that was only beginning to learn to let its people be people instead of categorized units. That was the world as it was. One that was growing into something beautiful, despite its own ugly pockets of evil and hate. It was a world worth fighting for. He turned to them, to the Maximoffs, to Williams and Worthington, to Pilot and Stinger, then to Fury, and finally, back to his team, the Defenders. "Hill brought this team together to show the world that it had people in it who would go to the ends of the Earth to protect them. I hold each of you in very high regard. You were chosen because in you all lies some of the best that the world has to offer. The fastest, the wisest." He looked to Pietro and Wanda. "The craftiest." He looked to Warren. "And the stoutest." He finished, looking to Simon before returning to the group as a whole. "We're not alone. I've no doubt we've allies in this, in beating whatever these things are. Fury says they're scattered. We can't change that, but we can sure as the noses on your faces make sure that when the time comes we know how to bring them back together. We get what we need ready, we get what brings these things down ready, because this world has so much good, so much potential still. I'll be damned if we're going to lose it to a bunch of bullying outsiders with a God complex." He looked to everyone there. "But I won't agree to this if it isn't unanimous. Moving back in time, changing even the smallest thing, it could spiral out of control. We need to be smart, quiet, and quick, and nobody can know but the people in this room. I spent the last two months reliving a war I lost friends to, if doing this can stop another before it has a chance to take anymore people, well, so be it. But I won't do it unless you're all on board." Steve looked to Fury, to Fury's people, and then to his own. "All of you." |
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| Archangel | Jun 14 2012, 05:42 AM Post #13 |
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“I just want you to know...” Warren shook his head, dazed. How long had he been here? An hour? Three weeks? A year? A minute? All of the above. At one moment, it felt like an hour, and another it felt like a lifetime... the way of dreams and nightmares. If only this had been a dream. “It's been a pleasure...” He looked through the fog that was his head... unsure of whether his mind was that clouded or whether he was really smothered in thick roiling fog. “Making you my bitch.” Something struck him across the face, but he'd seen it... a dark form standing in the mists, obscured just enough so that he couldn't make out who it was. That one strike brought back a year's worth of beatings that seemed to have been going on forever, yet so intense that it was as if a lifetime's worth had been compressed into one moment. Bruises stacked on bruises covered his body, blemishing his entire body until it almost felt as if his skin was on the verge of liquifying and sliding off of him. As he hit the ground and tasted his own blood yet again, his willpower fled, leaving only one single thought rolling around in his mind... there was nowhere to go. Coughing... hacking... gagging... his abdominals tightened painfully as he shot up into a sitting position. Bile mingled with strange chemicals spewed from his mouth and down his azure chin. Strands of dark blond hair did nothing to obscure his vision... his eyes were completely blurred so that colors barely bled through. The ringing in his ears made the voices unintelligible as he tried to clear his mind. It had all been a dream... oh my god... it wasn't real... The voices started to make sense... syllables becoming words becoming sentences that he began to piece together. Nick Fury was alive. As he began to climb out of what felt like a coffin, the only thought that was going through his mind was that Fury was a bastard... making them think he was dead for what was likely some stupid reason they would never be able to understand. And Cap... and Wanda... Simon... Pietro... He heard them all as he began to clear his vision. Skrulls? Dividing their teams? What? He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. The blackbird... imposters posing as friends. “They're not able to reach the school?” he finally piped up, his voice ragged and raw; every word accompanied by burning pain in his throat. Nick explained the situation to the others, and the others looked toward Captain America as their leader, asking him to make the call... something about going back in time. Why was it so hard to think straight? He shook it again in an attempt to try and clear it. “I want more details,” Warren grated as he placed a hand on a knee and pushed himself off the ground into a standing position, his wings unfurling and relaxing behind his back, “But we've always done what needs to be done, and I don't see a reason to change that.” He looked from Nick – as if he wasn't even surprised that the man was standing there like the goddamn ghost of Christmas past – and then to Captain America. “I'm in.” |
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| Nick Fury | Jun 14 2012, 07:31 PM Post #14 |
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The Spy
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Time Travel. Hell, this was one of the reasons that Nick Fury both loved and hated working with the superhuman community. He was slightly more than average, himself, though he wouldn't exactly allow that to be common knowledge. Yes, it was known he had been one of the Tuskegee Airmen, which put his age approaching triple digits despite his youthful appearance, but no one really tended to comment on it. The fact that he had just spent several years 'dead' was simply how he operated and that was what made him who he was. As the various members of this motley crew began to debate or question, it was the croaked inquiry made by the Archangel that drew Fury's attention. “I want more details,” Warren grated as he placed a hand on a knee and pushed himself off the ground into a standing position, his wings unfurling and relaxing behind his back, “But we've always done what needs to be done, and I don't see a reason to change that.” "Details are sparse, but here's what we got," Fury said, "We are under attack by what is apparently an alien threat, with shapeshifting and power emulating abilities. They are immune to all forms of detection known to us at this time, from the basics like fingerprint and DNA to the more exotic methods like telepathic scans or soul reading. For all intents and purposes, these Skrulls, as they call themselves, are the person they say they are until they aren't. We have been monitoring high risk targets, and have managed to prevent more than one abduction, but not all of them. This morning, the so called Queen of this alien race laid claim to our planet, saying that her people were here first, and that they are taking Earth back. I don't have any way to verify that claim, or to dispute it, but either way, it makes me very unhappy. Since this threat popped up on my radar, I have gathered some of those I trust, some of the most skilled agents in my employ, and we have been attempting to prepare for just this moment. It came too soon." He looked over at Wanda and said, "Miss Maximoff, I have no idea how your powers work. I don't need to know. I've read your file, and I know that you can do what it is you say you can do, and much much more. I'm not willing to pay the price for the much more, but I am prepared to take that extra time you're offering. Cap is right though. We are treading on dangerous ground here. The last deviation from the time stream sent another reality nearly crashing into us. That will not happen again on my watch. Is that perfectly clear, Ladies and Gentlemen? For the duration of this jaunt into the past, we remain isolated from everyone. No phone calls, no text messages, no telepathic visits, or even trips to the grocery store for the latest copy of Swank. We stay out of the world and we prepare to save it. Is that perfectly clear, and by perfectly I mean 100 to the nth degree percent. If I come back to the present and I find out that I've been replaced by David Hasselhoff I will put a bullet into the head of whoever stepped out of line." |
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| Stature | Jun 14 2012, 11:12 PM Post #15 |
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As the Defenders rose from their cold-born sleep, she stood back, half-marveling at some of the faces present, half wary of whether or not they were really who they were supposed to be. She'd spent the last couple months being educated by Fury and his small cadre on just what they knew about these Skrull things. There genuinely wasn't much to be had, but one thing had been concrete and constant; they were decievers, infiltrators by nature and they were nothing shy of sneaky bastards when things came down to the grind stone. Fury seemed certain, but until they had a way to be sure there was no true guarantee that these were who they'd come for. They could have been planted after the fact, who knew. Still, they didn't have a lot of options right now. And then the craziest tactical option she'd ever been presented with slapped her in the face as it came from Wanda, bounced off Fury, hit Cap, and was relayed through the rest of those present. Time travel? They didn't cover this at basic. The possibilities, she marveled. No wonder they'd sought to take down Wanda. She'd likely been the whole aim of this entire attack, and here she'd believed it had been the team as a whole. She could have slapped herself for not realizing that at first. Still, with that kind of power at their hands... she shook her head. Then again, if the Skrull had gotten to them, they were doomed. "You know I'm in for whatever it takes." She said, nodding to everyone, the helmet unfolding and showing her face. "I think its fair to say we can be greedy about who we share our planet with." Creezus, though. Tripping back through time itself? What if they could... No. She dismissed that bit of wishful thinking even as Fury warned against it. Changing the past could come at terrible costs. A girl could dream though. "So we go back. What then though? I mean we have our intel but really, its not that much to go off of, with all due respect, sir." She said, looking to Fury. "It'll take some sort of collaboration. What about our moles? How will we contact them?" It was a slew of questions and, knowing their curmudgeonly commander, many of them were likely to go unanswered for at least the moment. But she had to ask. "I mean really, we're talking about changing the whole game here, past, present, and future." |
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2:16 PM Jul 11