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Storming the Castle; Hellfire Infiltration Team
Topic Started: Jun 18 2012, 12:45 AM (764 Views)
Betsy Braddock
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Telepathy (I'm not a bloody ninja)
Date: April 25th
Time: Early evening




Set far back from a minor road, the old hospital stood squat at only two floors high. It was unassuming, not a particularly pretty building, but with too few residents close by to be bothered by its state of disuse. However, the place was not so abandoned as it seemed to the casual person who drove by. Within the building, or more likely beneath, was a deep hub of activity and where they would find the Shroud imprisoned. The real Shroud at that and not some cheap imposter who had been delivered to them only to fall beneath the blades of the Black Knight, who had returned at the perfect moment to reveal the doppelganger.

They were going into the concealed prison light; Longshot, Gambit and herself only. Psylocke knew that the clone was probably capable of fighting his way solo through the place, but this was more than just about killing. Gambit was highly skilled at infiltration and getting a hold of information that he had no right to and as for herself, well she was not entirely lacking in that department either. Dressed in her battle armour, the White Queen wore the cowl that she had taken to wearing during her blindness. While the mask no longer covered the previously hollow sockets of her eyes, it still concealed her face and the hood held back her long, purple hair. Gloves covered her hands. She was not prepared to leave any trace of herself, not here anyway.

It had taken some time to trace this place, given their lack of Sage and the systems that the Black Queen had implemented while ruling. But, she had not always been of the Club and there was no chance in hell that they were about to let the lack of one person, important as she might be, from stopping them saving one of their own. In any case, there was the chance she was in this prison too, along with the White Knight and the Pawns who had also been claimed. Who knew what had happened to them, after all.

Getting in was easy once they had the location however; the gem that Longshot claimed for his own bauble granted them access and in combination with the little killer’s luck, the three appeared in a perfectly quiet location, deep underneath the old building above. As with many such complexes, it was not what lay above the surface, but what went deep below it, a cavernous rabbit warren of rooms, labs, cells, endless corridors and storage bays and whatever else was squirreled away down there. Being used to teleportation now, it took mere moments for the disorientation of suddenly being in another place to pass. Glancing to the two men, she gave a small nod of the head and spoke quietly, mainly for Gambit’s sake as the man was immune to telepathy.

“Remember to stick to the plan. Avoid separation unless necessary and keep your communication device on,” it was almost childish things to remind two such men, but the formalities helped to ground the situation all the same. There was no need to give Longshot instruction, but the White Queen was still relatively unused to working with Gambit, at least in his new capacity as her Knight.

“Aside from that, have fun gentlemen,” Betsy winked, grinning mirthlessly. She had two handguns in her belt, a knife in her boot and another slotted into a thin casing in her sleeve. From what she had discovered, the Skrulls were immune to telepathy, meaning her normally very potent blasts would be all but useless, unless they encountered some human resistance. It irked her to be effectively powerless, made her uncomfortable even, but she had not spent six years of her life enlisted in STRIKE for nothing and as such, was far from helpless. If she was, then she would not have come.

“Take the lead, Longshot. Find your King.”
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Longshot
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Probability, Psychometry, Cloned Origin, Empathic Charisma
The Space Gem was very alluring bauble, as where they all. Continued use caused clear addictions, and uncontrollable lust for more. Longshot, however, was rather like a hobbit with a ring. His very nature protected him to a degree, and while the thought of simply using the purple bauble to teleport to wherever he so chose was tempting, it was his luck that dictated their landing point, near to the images in his mind of the location where his king was being kept. Psychometry was a strange power. Sometimes he could see the past. Sometimes the present. Sometimes the future.

Where his king came into play he usually saw all three in a wrapped up tangle, the important elements brightening in color and prominence as the lesser parts of the stories filtered into nothing, and that was what would lead him on to find his king, find the one person who truly and completely understood what it was Longshot was. The Queens, his pseudo siblings, they were something far different, and he appreciated them all for those differences, but it was his King who he credited with his life. He could have just wasted away until there was nothing left of him, lost in the misery of his rebellion against Mojo, destroyed by the act of cutting his strings and the obese tyrant's throat. Max had given him purpose, and Max had believed there was more to him than could be seen.

The Queen gave her orders, and Longshot heard them but only in that way that one hears the safety announcements on a plane. Half an ear open, the rest of the focus on locking the seatbelt, making sure the tray table is up, wondering if the baby nearby would cry the whole flight. Longshot turned on the ring on his finger and her instructions flowed over him as the images that he had deemed important blended with them, until she gave the one order that matter.

“Take the lead, Longshot. Find your King.”

Without a word, Longshot began to move.
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Gambit(Matt)
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Kinetic Energy Manipulation, Empathic Charm
It was all the same, really. Brotherhood, X-Factor, Hellfire... they all had missions and executed them in similar ways – teams split up and applied according to the members' uses and how they complimented each other. Having worked with thieves from the guild growing up, along with his past experience with protagonists and antagonists alike, it had tempered Gambit's more loner nature in a way that allowed him to use both to greatest effectiveness. In short – he got the job done by himself and was easy to work with in a team.

As soon as the remnants of the teleportation cleared, Remy took a step away from the other two accompanying him and scanned the corridor they had arrived in. Red eyes glowed faintly as they captured every bit of light and seemed to magnify its return, but that was the only sign that the Cajun was actually attentive. Hands in pockets, a half-smoked cigarette hanging from lips, and a slight slouch in his shoulders imparted the deceptive image of not really taking any of this seriously. In reality, however, each hand fingered three playing cards ready to be charged and thrown in the blink of an eye. The loose posture aided his mutant-enhanced reflexes, and even the cigarette that tinged the air with a hint of tobacco and menthol could easily be turned into a powerful weapon thanks to his natural abilities.

He'd caught every word his queen had said while keeping an eye on their rear, nodding with an almost bored demeanor as he rolled the cigarette from one side of his mouth to the other. He cut a look at the little clone who had brought them here as Betsy finished her instructions, still trying to decide whether he liked the kid or not. Something about the way his broken mind worked unsettled the Cajun slightly, but he had to admit... the way the guy moved belied the speed and grace of which he'd heard through others. He'd be interested in seeing his counterpart in the Black Court in action.

“Pleasure of your company is almost about as much fun as I can stand,” Remy said as he pulled the cigarette from his lips and held it gently between forefinger and middle finger. “Anything more and I might need to pay you for doin this.” He winked back at her, “Lemme know if I need to settle up after dis is over, cherie. Don't have cash on me...”

He dropped the cigarette to the floor and toed it out as he began to follow Longshot down the hall, the hand that had disposed of the cancer stick already reaching inside his trenchcoat, “But I imagine we can work somethin out.”

Pulling out a two-foot rod, a soft click extended the weapon to its full six feet of length. He let his gaze stay on her another moment longer as they continued their trek; a mischievous grin accompanied the silent innuendo. And then he looked away, the flirtatious demeanor beginning to drop away as he twirled the staff into the crook of his arm, the other hand still fingering cards in his pocket.

Now they were in business.
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Max_Coleridge
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JP of Max and SkrullSage

"Max," Sage said from behind the Black King, pulling the door shut behind her. Her voice sounded shaken, almost as if seeing her King in this condition was upsetting. Deep within the secret complex hidden beneath an old hospital, The Black Queen had come to visit her King in jail. So far as she knew, Max was unaware of where he currently was. One S.H.I.E.L.D. holding facility was just like any other.
"What did they do to you?" she asked, walking around him so that she could be seen. He was sitting there cuffed to a chair and it appeared that he had been beaten recently. Behind him, a one way mirror was present, and it felt as if someone was looking in on them. Sage moved a chair, allowing the legs to drag across the concrete floor and make a hideous sound, and then took a seat in front of him. She then scooted as close as she could, so that her knees touched against his. "I... I don't know why they would allow me to see you like this. But rest assured that your attorneys will be notified."


She reached out to Max then, touching his chin and helping him to lift his head up so that he would know she was there for him. Tessa attempted to smile in order to give him some kind of comfort, but the situation made it harder than usual, plus he couldn't see it anyways. Reaching up to her King's hair, she ran her fingers through it a few times to try to bring him around and attempt to comfort him. Tessa then said, "Max... have you told them anything?" She paused, looking past him towards the mirror, then looked back to him. "We are being monitored, but I have looped their security feeds. So we are safe, but should keep our voices down. If you need me to move anything important for you. Files. Records. That ruby necklace that you let me borrow that one time... Just tell me and I can make it happen before it is too late."

Near exhaustion, Max's head had been slumped against his chest, stealing a few blessed moments of sleep. In those moments, the chill of his skin faded away, the pain of his bruises faded away, the coppery taste of blood in his mouth faded away, and only the comforting dark was left. Suddenly, she was there; her sweet smell drowning out the musty reek of mold. He drunk it in as he leaned against her soft hand. "This must be a dream," he croaked, his throat raw and dry. He leaned forward and tried to stifle the fit of coughing those few words had triggered.

"Shhh, calm yourself my King," Sage said sweetly as her King came to. He was obviously too out of it to respond to her earlier inquiry. She glanced again to the mirror and then tilted her head slightly as she looked back to Max. "This is not a dream... they allowed me to see you for only a moment and we must use this moment wisely," she said quietly, reaching up to his face with her other hand in order to caress his cheek and also to help him support his head. The fingers of her other hand continued to run through his hair, which she hoped brought him some level of comfort.

"Longshot has not returned with Betsy yet... so that trinket is safe with him. But the other... the other, Max. Tell me how to get to it so that I may keep it secure. You know that I will return it to your hand, just like I did before," Le'Xrill said, using her host's memory to recall the battle with Selene.

The attention... the caresses... they were nice. Too nice. The kind of nice that, given time, would work their way underneath his guard and make him want all the wrong things, like love, compassion, tenderness, and betray everything that mattered for that fleeting joy.

He struck without warning; gauging where her face was from her sweet whispers, he shot forward, hoping for a satisfying crack of bone against his forehead.

"Arg'lak fu'tum!" Le'Xtrill suddenly cried out an expletive in Skrull, her head snapping back as Max's forehead made contact with the bridge of her nose. She quickly stood up and took several steps away, her skin flushing green as her hand went up to her nose. Thick green blood flooded down and began tracing it's way around the edges of her mouth, eventually dripping off of her chin.

"You son of a bitch!" Le'Xtrill called out in Sage's voice. She dropped the hand from her face, the nose now sitting awkwardly upon it, and walked back across the room in order to slap Max. She immediately recoiled and backhanded him across the face in the same motion, before finally bending over and grabbing a leg of the chair, flipping it with her superior strength in order to cause the blind man to spill across the floor.

In a sudden outburst of rage, Le'Xtrill then began kicking him in the torso while yelling at him in Sage's voice. "I never cared for you! You phony King! You will die in this place! You will tell me where the gem is or we will destroy everything you love! Everything!" she shouted, kicking him between sentences and implying harm upon his family and friends. For everything that she had done in the past several months as Sage, and for the broken nose upon her face, Le'Xtrill kicked him viciously over and over.

<"Le'Xtril. F'on tah,"> a voice suddenly said over a speaker within the room, causing her to stop her attack and look towards the mirror.

With her upper lip curled into a snarl and her yellow eyes flaring in anger, she took several steps away from Max and then turned around to face him, allowing him a moment to recover. Returning to Sage's voice she then said, "Max... Help us. You will be repaid for your cooperation. Resisting us is hopeless for you and for everyone else here on Earth. Do you not understand that?"

It was a small victory, and other than the moment pleasure of causing her pain and getting under her skin, his reward was more pain. He gasped as his chair was turned over, knocking the wind out of him. He struggled to breathe and strained against his wrist restraints as kick after kick rained down on him. Then he felt a worrying snap and a sudden sharp pain that made him cry out then stifle the pain as turned his face toward the floor.

"Your true face, at last," he murmured as she paced around him like a predator. Fiery pain arced up and down his side, it showed in his voice but Max didn't waste the last dregs of willpower trying to conceal it. "Are you someone with the authority to make a deal?" he panted, as his cheek rested against the floor and he breathed in the smell of old earth.
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Betsy Braddock
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Telepathy (I'm not a bloody ninja)
Longshot was quiet, but Betsy had been with him in combat situations long enough to know that this was not entirely unusual. That being said, this was the most focused that the White Queen could ever recall the clone being. He toyed with the ring on his finger, not out of vanity or boredom, but as if it were a delicate talisman, one that would guide him through this whole process. Perhaps it would. Gambit on the other hand, was day to Longshot’s night. His posture was looser, and he did not so much walk as flow across the floor after them. He also had a cigarette held limply in his lips and as much as Betsy would have preferred him to have cast the thing aside, she knew what he could do with it once charged. So long as he accorded this the proper respect and attention…

Well. So much for that.

Pay me? Knight, even on your best day you couldn’t hope to afford me,” the telepath gave the Cajun a dark, rather wicked smirk. “I suggest you watch your tongue, or Longshot shall be using it as a warm up,” Betsy added quietly, although without malice as they moved onwards. She was fairly certain the thief would have enjoyed some more banter, or even a physical response from her, but that was far better saved for another time…one where they were not infiltrating a high security facility to rescue one of their own. Really, he was almost worse than Wisdom was, and that was saying something.

Traversing down the corridor, Betsy reached out with her telepathy, picking apart any secrets they had yet to uncover about this place. The area where Max was being held was no doubt heavily guarded, either physically or by any number of traps. But without Sage, it was not so easy to bypass their security systems at this point, so they were having to do it the old fashioned way…which seemed to actually suit this particular little team rather well, given their collective skills.

Getting the impression of minds ahead, Betsy brought her hand up. “Wait,” they were just around the bend of the corridor, four from the feel but… “Proceed,” smoothly taking a half step back to allow Longshot plenty of room to spring forwards, the purple haired telepath held her breath as a squad of five rounded the bend. So she hadn’t been imagining it; smart. Keeping someone whose mind could not be read for whatever reason, within a small squad. That way at least one of them would not be compromised, and with enough chaff surrounding them, then it was not automatically noticeable for lower level telepaths. But Betsy was not a low level telepath and whatever training she might have lacked in comparison to others, she made up for it in terms of raw power. Yet that raw power was not limitless and while she could easily wipe out the four people before her and leave the fifth for Longshot to gut, or she could be sensible about chucking her powers around and allow the Knights to do their jobs.

Plus, she hadn’t brought her guns for nothing… Drawing one now, she readied herself to fire. The bionic eyes that Forge had created her afforded the White Queen excellent vision in all forms of light (and even fair night vision) and enabled her to focus on her target a little more accurately than when she had her natural orbs…and she had always been a pretty good shot anyway, even when she had gone clay pigeon shooting as a child.

The squad were quick to react…but not as quick as they were and Betsy fired, trusting the others to do what they did best.
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Longshot
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Probability, Psychometry, Cloned Origin, Empathic Charisma
The way they moved, it was not just luck. It was skill. The three of them who had infiltrated this place was indeed aided by the preternaturally good fortune of the little clone who lead the way, but not entirely, not at all. Longshot had been genetically sculpted, down to his dna to make him what he was. Gambit had learned it in back alleys and secret places with secret rules. Psylocke had been trained by God and Country. They were who they were and it made them better at this than most.

The White Queen told them to stop as she sensed someone approaching and Longshot nodded, silently. Those people stood between them and his King though, and that meant they were going to die. Longshot, who was trying to be more than just a mindless killer these days, spared a thought for them, trying to decide if he should mourn or not, but in the end it was clear that they deserved to die. They had taken his King, and replaced him with a monster. How very very stupid of them.

As they rounded the corner, Psylocke unleashed her guns, and as the star flashed in Longshot's eye, her bullets hit the mark. The little clone leaped over the heads of the human shield agents to the land squarely on the chest of the one that could not be detected. How he knew the difference was something that Longshot would be ridiculously coy about as if he knew more than he did. The truth was, of course, it was simply his luck that the one man who was struck by his full eighty pounds was the one who was not human. That did not add to the mystique that was him though, so Longshot avoided spilling the beans. He wanted to be special, after all.

Landing squarely on the man's chest, and driving him backwards, and he slashed his knife across the man's throat, as he fell. The blood that sprayed out was not the rich red that he knew. It was dark green, and the color reflected in the man's face as he revealed his true face. Longshot smiled and said, "Well, look what we have here. Aliens in our midst." He looked at the two shield agents who had fallen to the White Queen's bullets. "Red blood. Those are the real people. Bleeding to death on the cold cold ground."

Standing straight, he reached for another knife, "Let's see which color these last two bleed, shall we? Or maybe they would just make things easy and tell me where my king is being held."
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Gambit(Matt)
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Kinetic Energy Manipulation, Empathic Charm
Just as the last words rolled off the little clone's tongue, a throwing knife blossomed in the neck of the soldier closest to the remainder of the two. It only rested there for half a heartbeat, however before it gave a small explosion – a gentle puff compared to most of Gambit's pyrotechnics, causing the man who had been gasping and clawing at his neck moments ago to stagger backward a pace before collapsing in a boneless heap to the floor. Half the man's neck was missing.

Suppressing a grimace, Remy wasn't exactly the most comfortable with killing... however, the nature of this rescue made it all too clear that punches couldn't be pulled, and Longshot had the right idea. If they could get information from this man, they would be that much better off. Besides... the precision and speed in which Longshot had moved showed that the man nearest him would have dropped to the floor anyway. His gone had been swinging in the little assassin's direction.

“You're next, homme.” The flap of cards flying from one gloved hand to the other punctuated his threat to the one remaining guard. “'Less you can tell us where they're holding our man.”

He honestly didn't expect the soldier to answer, but asking the question would pull the answer to the forefront of the man's brain, making it easier for Betsy to dig it out of him quickly if it came to that – which it probably would. He cut his eyes toward Betsy and then back toward the soldier. “Better make it quick or the lady here might feed you to one of us.”

He jerked his head toward Longshot, “I'm de nice one.”
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Betsy Braddock
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Telepathy (I'm not a bloody ninja)
Even if she wasn’t a good shot, her bullets would have met their mark. Longshot made such things happened. And, if she hadn’t even brought a single weapon, well, Longshot would have made something else happen there too. It was hardly a task she took joy in either, but they were hardly here to play nice. Sliding the weapons back into their holsters, she paced up behind Longshot and Gambit who were accosting the other two and she looked down at them. The one Longshot had targeted was now surrounded in a pool of green blood. Just how deep did these infiltrations go?

Turning back to the man Gambit was standing over, the White Queen scoffed a little at his words. “I’ll feed you to them alright, after I have finished with you,” she warned, her voice carefully low. So far, she had been trying to scan the whole base for the Black King but there was some kind of disruption around the maximum security area of the facility and the other messages she was getting…Focusing on the mind of the man who was lying on the ground, Betsy was not able to pick out an exact location, but she was able to find the next best thing; the person who would know.

Pulling her eyes away from the man, she glanced to Gambit as the pink lights around her face for a moment and she gave the Cajun thief a nod, before half turning away from the two Knights and the downed SHIELD agents to once more push out with her powers to locate the cell they were keeping Max within. The person she was ‘looking’ for was a female agent approaching her forties. She had been excellent in the field, but now had been moved to this location and was very good at not asking awkward questions about awkward orders. Such a stance had been what had brought her to such a position in this prison. At that exact moment in time, the woman happened to be on a break and as such, relaxed with her guard down. After all…who would ever be able to break in there and cause trouble?

Smiling, Betsy looked back to the others. “Longshot, I have it. Open your mind and I’ll show you,” the request was simple etiquette and when received, the White Queen would be able to show him the cell, deep deep down on the seventeenth floor down in the G wing of the facility. Using the memories of the warden, Betsy could even see ‘HX1789’ stamped on the wall beside the cell door and knew that regular patrols who passed by the doors…almost all of whom, she suspected to be skrulls, or maybe it was simple wishful thinking. Longshot would see it all too and with such a sight, he could take them there in an instant using the Space Gem.

With one final glance to those on the floor, Betsy reached out and performed a mind wipe…Just in case. “Do with them as you will, Knights. I’ve erased their memories in any case. We have far more pressing matters to attend to.”
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Max_Coleridge
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Darkforce Manipulation, Teleportation
Max and the Skrull queen




"Are you someone with the authority to make a deal?" the man said, his voice betraying none of his precarious position.

The skrull who had been impersonating his Queen reached up and tapped an almost invisible device mounted in the corner of the cell, and a shimmering form took shape in front of him. A holographic representation of the Skrull Queen herself, her shape and attire her own, though if one was to see who spoke on the other end of this communications, she would look very different indeed. "Le'Xrill is not authorized to negotiate, but I am. My name is Veranke, and I am the Queen of my people. Le'Xrill help him to his chair. It doesn't do for one member of royalty to be so discourteous to another, even if his title is merely symbolic."

Le'Xrill helped Max up, picking him up with uncommon strength, and setting his chair upright. Veranke watched from wherever hidey hole she was sequestered in, a slight smile on her face.

"There, isn't that so much better?" she asked, in a sugary tone. "Now, you suggested you wish to broker a deal? Indulge my curiosity and make a pitch, knowing that is very likely an exercise in futility."

Max held his breath, the tendons on the side of his neck tightening as he held in the pain of his broken ribs from the kicks the false Tessa's tantrum. The faint echo of technology told him that this queen wasn't here in the flesh; that wasn't surprising, this prison was a festering hole.

"I don't need to pitch even I have facts to lay on the table, Veranke," Max said as he tried to look as unconcerned as he could with his wrists and ankles clamped to a chair. It was the first rule of any con, look confident - even when you were falling off a cliff, give the person sending you over the edge the impression that you had all the answers, that you could, in fact, fly.

In the weeks since he'd been secretly moved from the helicarrier, he'd heard the talk of the guards, the parts he could understand, and pieced together a grim picture. "You haven't killed me for a reason and I doubt it's the thrill of seeing him in chains; I make a very poor caged pet," he said and couldn't reign in the steely edge of his voice. He clamped his teeth and reset his tone for something sweeter. "You need me to obtain something that's worth more than the world," he said and waited for her.

"Do I?" Veranke said with a smirk, " Don't you think that with all my resources, with all my talented and loyal subjects who have infiltrated your world and conquered it from within before you have even realized there was danger, that I can take whatever I wish? Offer me something I cannot have, primate, and you may find I have already taken it."

"That was smooth, I'll grant you that. But skulking in the darkness is very different than sitting on a throne for all to see. And that, you haven't done yet."

"That's coming," Veranke said, only a hint of hardness in her voice, "It really would have been so much simpler if your little toy soldier hadn't dispatched the warrior who took your place so easily. I admit I underestimated your resources, and assumed, from Le'Xrill's description of the heirarchy of your court, that your underlings would be easier to bring to heel. That's the last time I make such a foolish mistake. My people have doubled their efforts, they have moved into place. I am on the brink of domination, and this world will be ours as it always should have been, as it would have been if not for..." She smiled, "Well, that was the Bad Times, wasn't it?"

He'd held his head high and proud when she talked about his imposter dying so quickly but slowly, hearing the determination in her voice, his head began to droop slightly. "Was it? Is that what happened? Is that what you are? Is that who you are? I'm just a blind king you've kept in darkness. What do you plan to do with the world, when you have it?"

She laughed slightly, and said, "Live in it, of course. We were explorers, Coleridge, we were scientists, until the Bad Times, until our own discovery, our own experiment turned on us. We would have colonized this world, and guided humanity, grown you into godlike beings, and the only creatures that would have been above you would have been us. Falling so low because of those dark experiments... there's very little left of us but the violence, the warriors, the consuming lust for conquer, and until I came to the throne, even that was misdirected and turned inwards. The sects fought themselves for petty scraps of our world, but I united us all on the promise of the world that lay just out of phase with our own. Our ancestors came from beyond the stars, but my people, we were created on this planet. It belongs to us. Your very existence is because of the Long Ago and the Far Away of my kind, and you should be very grateful we gave you this long to live without us."

As Max listened, a hopeless realization flickered across his face that was quickly covered with a stony mask. "You that's what would have happened. What are your plans now?" he asked but already knew, the weeks without decent food or sleep and the constant physical abuse seemed to be just a preview of things to come under skrull rule. "Slavery? Butchery? Sport? What part do we have in your lust for violence and conquest when this is all over?" He lowered his face and asked with fatigue creeping into his voice, "What about Tessa? The real Tessa. Is she still alive?"

The hologram of the queen glanced at her soldier and said, "I am offering a renaissance to my people, a rebirth of the benevolence that marked our ancestors. The scientific advancements we can make, the technological miracles that even our neonates understand, we'll offer them in exchange for nothing more than subservience. Fight us and you will die, but bend knee, Max, and you'll be rewarded with only a small amount less than you already have." The dark smile she had worn perpetually throughout out this whole conversation grew, and she said, "Your Tessa, she live on Skrullos, the out of phase world the Ancients built to hide us from the darkness we were becoming. We're not butchers. She lives and if you surrender to me, if you tell me that you and those pretty little baubles you possess belong to me? I will give her back to you... relatively unharmed."

Max flexed his bound arms and felt the pain of the bruises on wrists; it matched well with the sharp pain in his side. Finally, he said, "There are many men you will have to deal with before this is all said and done. Summers... Magneto, bloody-handed revolutionaries who would lay down their lives; men who would die for their cause." He lifted his head, shedding the pretense of being a beat-down man as easily as he would an old coat. "But there's no great feat to dying, any fool can do that with hardly any effort; that takes no sacrifices at all." Sacrifices - the sacrifice of honor, of pride, of everything that didn't matter, in exchange for the one thing that does. "Survival is everything," he said simply, "and your offer seems to be the only means to that," he said, the words as bitter as acid on his tongue.

In the room that should have been soundproof, the muffled screams of chaos and panic came to Max's sensitive hearing and he cocked his head. "But perhaps my options are expanding."

The Skrull Queen's image flickered and she looked around, hitting an unseen button on her end of the communications, "What?" she snapped, "You're... Damnit, I don't want excuses! Deal with this on your end, Agent!" Then as the screams and chaos, small explosions of kinetic energy turned deadly, the gunshots and the horrible gurgling sound of men losing their lives to razors that sliced flesh as easily as they cut the air grew nearer and nearer, Veranke looked at Le'Xrill, "Keep him alive and then once his rescue has arrived, kill him before their eyes. I want them to know they are not above us..." She turned her yellow eyes to him, "I want your last thought to be how you should have simply taken my offer and spared yourself this agony. Good bye, Max Coleridge, you could have been one of my favorites... Pity."

Then the hologram flickered out of existence, and Max was left alone with Le'Xrill and the cruel promise of coming help that was destined to fail.

"If I'm dying in this room, so are you." In a burst of strength, Max bucked in his chair, sending it toppling sideways and out of the line of fire, just as the door to the stinking little room was blasted off its hinges.
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Longshot
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Probability, Psychometry, Cloned Origin, Empathic Charisma
“Longshot, I have it. Open your mind and I’ll show you,” The White Queen said, and that was exactly what Longshot did, seeing immediately the location of his King. Then, he was like a bloodhound with a scent and there was nothing, no one that stood in his way once he caught wind of his quarry. Oh, but Longshot, for all his scattered childishness, could be very very single minded when he was focused. Razor straight and razor sharp, and deadly. With Psylocke and Gambit behind him, he moved forward, killing both men and monster that stood between him and the Shroud.

By the time he reached the cell marked HX1789, he was spattered with red and green gore, shining slick and morbidly against the black leathers of his combat uniform. Allowing Gambit to use one of his tricks to blow open the door by charging the lock and letting the charged kinetic energy explode within it, Longshot drew back his booted foot and kicked it hard, very hard, so that swung open.

His razors flew before he even entered. There was no need to aim. The Shine in his eye said that his King would not receive so much a scratch.


Le'Xrill received her orders from her Queen and stood there with her mouth open. It was a death sentence. Had she failed her Queen? She knew the force that was coming for Max. No doubt it was led by that pesky little clone, Longshot, and with his mutant ability she knew that there was little hope for escape. Le'Xrill unholstered the pistol that was on her side and raised it towards the door, her hand shaking as she heard the chaos growing closer and closer.

"If I'm dying in this room, then so are you," Max said.

The Skrull glared and turned her pistol quickly towards him, firing one time just as the Black King rolled his chair over out of the way. At the same time, an explosion went off and the door was kicked open, causing her to fall back against the far wall of the cell. Through the smoke, she saw the light of Longshot's eye as it glowed, and Le'Xrill immediately dropped her weapon in order to plea for her life.

However, the clone had not delayed in his execution. Razors flew from within the smoke, the light within the small room causing them to sparkle like stars. For a moment, Le'Xrill had a flash back in her memory, recalling the beautiful night sky. It was short lived though, as those shooting stars struck her one after the other in the torso, climbing upwards until the final one skimmed perfectly across her neck in order to open the vein.

Her green eyes flashed over to Max and then looked back to Longshot, and then a single tear formed and fell from her eye, leaving a dark trail behind as her fate was sealed. Though she was afraid, she did not try to struggle. Instead, she welcomed the coming darkness and hoped that she would soon see Tre'lik again. Then she went limp, sliding along the wall until she laid dead on the floor.


Longshot did not even spare a glance at the body. He ran across the room, forgetting his rage, and his lust for blood, as he deftly slit the ropes that bound his king to the chair and helped the man up. "My King," he said, gently, "If you were angry at me for accompanying the White Queen, there are better ways of getting my attention than this." He smiled, and stopped just short of hugging the man.

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Gambit(Matt)
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“Nothin personal, mon ami,” Remy picked up the rear of the little trio, kicking the wiped man with his heel as he passed so the man went sprawling on his side. Dazed by the recent intrusion by Betsy, he lay there like a limp ragdoll.

Pulling a card out of an inside pocket, Remy glanced at it... a joker. A smirk passed across his face as he thought of how appropriate it was; it suddenly began to glow fuchsia, his red eyes seeming to glow as it gathered in and reflected the light. He flicked it over his shoulder as he followed the pair down the corridor Longshot led them, not looking back as the card fluttered to the ground. If anyone stepped disturbed it... well... they would all know someone was behind them, to say the least.

In no time, Remy was standing in front of the prison door that supposedly held their quarry, the thief running his fingers over the reinforced steel as he studied it. “The lock,” Remy muttered to himself after a moment of consideration. He drew a finger across the keyhole and then stood back, watching it intently as it glowed brilliantly one moment before going off like a small firecracker. Longshot was beside him, and the Cajun could feel the tension coming off the little clone in droves.

“Do the honors, mon ami?” Remy said as he gestured toward the door. No sooner had the words died on his lips when the cell was opened up with a crash, razors already flying. Gambit immediately backed against the wall and slid a hand inside his jacket, fingering three cards as he covered their rear, awaiting a call from inside as he nodded to Betsy to continue. “Don't worry cherie... I'll keep an eye on the rear.”

Without even a single smirk.

An explosion went off down the corridor they had just come from, the powerful ring reverberating off the walls. “Might wanna make it snappy... might have company soon... 'less I got 'em all.” He looked back toward her, “I ain't Longshot though.”
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Betsy Braddock
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Revealing the ‘target’ to Longshot was like unleashing a force of nature and nothing and no one would be able to control him until he saw that his King was alive and whole. It was a potentially risky move, but about the only one open to them. She barely needed her own weapons now, but all the same a few Skrull found themselves with her bullets in their foreheads; she had her own anger to take out on the things and her mouth was set in a grim line as she followed after the bold Black Knight. All the way there, they cut a bloody swathe, or rather Longshot did and the Queen and White Knight followed, taking care that absolutely nothing was left to chance, not that anything was ever left to chance with the assassin, unless he meant it to be so of course.

Arriving at the place, everything appearing as it should be aside from the blood and chaos, Gambit blew out the lock and Longshot charged, throwing his blades even as the door was flung wide. Following, Betsy stopped in the doorway, allowing the little clone a moment with his King; the Black Knight was the hero of this hour and the White Queen was certain that he would have descended into hell itself to get Max back. Glancing to the Cajun thief at his comment about the rear, Betsy set him with a look.

“I’m sure that’s a speciality of yours, non?” Keeping her tone just as blunt and smirk free as his had been, she passed him by, trusting the man to keep a close watch for them and entered the cell, watching the reunion in progress, casting only a short glance to the dead creature on the floor. The only thing that mattered was that the deplorable thing was dead and not about to go giving them any more grievance.

“Longshot, my King? We should get away from here as soon as possible…Unless you have unfinished business of course,” the White Queen said, reloading her guns as she spoke. It would be prudent for them to get back to the Hellfire Club as soon as possible, but if necessary, she was more than willing to stay a few more rounds in that place. “If so…we have company on its way and they’ll be barging in within the next two minutes,” Betsy shared, a pink sparkle around her face. She could incapacitate the whole bally lot of them charging down towards them…but where would the fun be in that for everyone else?
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Max_Coleridge
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The ropes had cut red and black grooves on Max's wrists and ankles; wounds covered his face and body, most looked old and healing and spoke of a taste of his treatment over the last few weeks. He made a hollow noise deep in his chest that could've been a chuckle at Longshot's remark. Normally, he would've let the flippant quip pass unremarked, but the heady mix of hope and freedom loosened his tongue. "You know me, Longshot," he rasped through his dry throat, "I never do anything half-measure."

Max leaned heavily on Longshot, his eyes closed and trying to breathe deeply. Part of him knew that he should be raging at being seen so weak, but Longshot had long since moved from being merely an employee and one of his court, to a valued member of Max's household, his family, and had proven time and again to be deserving of the honor.

Pulling up the dregs of the strength he'd been saving to endure this place, he had better uses for them now, Max rubbed life back into his wrists, as he listened to the voices around him, Betsy and a cajun drawl that was unmistakable. He felt the heavy metal bracelet clamped around his wrist; it had been his shackle for weeks, keeping him blind and imprisoned. "Check her pockets for a key to release this," and that was as far as he'd gotten before the device had come apart in his hand and fallen to the floor; he didn't need to see the flash that had undoubtedly flashed in Longshot's beautiful eye, he was certain it had been there. A weakness in the metal had finally reached its breaking point. Very lucky. He breathed deeply, nearly overcome relief; it wasn't the fetid air of the prison he breathing, it was freedom for the first time in weeks.

"We aren't done here yet," Max said, a hint of malice laced in his voice as he unconsciously rubbed a lingering back and yellow bruise swelled on his cheek. Betsy and Gambit re-loaded and re-armed and remarked on the guards' arriving soon. "They probably will, but we won't be here." It took only a moment for his strange sight to look through the walls and floors and find something worth delaying their escape for.

"Betsy, you always think too linearly," he said as he pulled his will and patches of darkness stretched and wove around him, covering the spoiled prison-issue he wore. He stopped leaning on Longshot and straightened, becoming once again, the Shroud. A portal of darkness swirled into existence in the cramped cell. Gambit and Longshot were unparalleled when it came to infiltration but their exceptional talents didn't compare with being able to cross distances in a few steps and ignore walls.

"Clear the room," the Shroud said as he emerged into the facility's control room, to the shock of the guards stationed there. "I don't want to be interrupted." It was all Longshot would need to hear.

The Shroud made his way to the main control console, the darkness he'd manifested covering the shakiness of his steps; poor diet and little rest for nearly a month had affects that even his iron self-control couldn't completely ignore. Settling into a chair and ignoring the screams and fighting going on, he called out, "White Queen, I need passwords and command controls." He dearly missed Tessa.

As he waited for one of them to have his mind opened the contents spilled, he called up one of the menus he could access already. Cell Doors: Open/Close Open.

In the monitors before them, all the cell doors swung wide and seconds later, the corridors were streaming with frightened, but mostly angry, prisoners on the loose. "I think the majority of the guards are going to be busy now. If they got the same taste of this place that I did, they'll be looking to settle up some debts."
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Longshot
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"You know me, Longshot," he rasped through his dry throat, "I never do anything half-measure."

Max was not known to being humorous, but the light tone in his voice brought a smile of pure joy to his Knight's blood flecked face. "I would teach you moderation, my King, but then how could I come to your rescue like the indispensable little blade I am?"

Longshot hovered as close to his King as was proper without making him seem weak. But, perhaps he was biased, for Max could be so weak that he could not even stand, and his devoted Knight would believe him to be strong, and somehow, because of that faith, he would find himself recovering his strength. There was a great deal of hope and childlike conviction in Longshot's powers and what he believed about a person very often became what was. Max asked him to find a way to remove the null cuff and how fortunate that the metal gave way just at that moment.

And then Max Coleridge, prisoner, visibly transformed into the Shroud, Black King of Hellfire, opening a portal to free them all from this miserable place, but it was not to safety that they were transported, instead they emerged from darkness into what appeared to be a control room for this prison. His King gave an order, and Longshot's razors flew. Not to kill though, not yet, because passwords and codes needed to be gathered, but razors suddenly pinned wrists to walls and feet to floors and thighs to chair seats. The weapons, he left for Gambit's pretty pink explosions. After all, the other knight had to prove his worth did he not.

In this way, the King and the Queen were free to use their own skills to get done what needed to be done, and all would be well with the world. Something horrible was coming, and something dangerous was soon to be unleashed upon the planet. But that would come tomorrow. Or the next day. It didn't matter to Longshot.

He rarely looked that far ahead.
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Betsy Braddock
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Telepathy (I'm not a bloody ninja)
It was good to see Max again, but more than anything it was good to see that his resolve had not been badly shaken and as such, it was unsurprising that he transported them to another area of the prison within swirls of darkforce. With Longshot and Gambit to cover their backs, Betsy could have taken an easy seat if she was so inclined, but by nature she was not. The Black King asked for passwords and command controls and instantly she went digging through the minds of guards and operatives, approaching one who was sprawled by a panel, stunned and dazed by an attack that had simply knocked the fight out of him rather than killing him; Longshot knew better than to simply wipe everyone in the room so fast, not when they needed information.

Kneeling beside him for a moment, the White Queen locked eyes with the man. He was human, or so she assumed from the fact that she was able to invade his mind. As she stared at him with her bionics, he stared back, flinching a little and broke the eye contact between them first. Reaching out, Betsy slipped the tips of her fingers beneath his chin and continued to stare mutely at him while she went through his mind, digging out the necessary codes and passwords. It was not easy to just rifle through a person’s mind, but the man was not trained in psychic defence and as such it was just a case of getting to the right locker in the storage facility, so to speak.

Fleeting moments passed and after about two minutes, Betsy rose in a smooth motion, casting the man one last look. “Thank you for your assistance,” almost as an afterthought, she leant down once more and pulled a swipe card from his pocket and turned her back on him, crossing the blank space of floor to where the Shroud had been busying himself causing a distraction by releasing the other prisoners from their cells.

Passing him the card, she gave a small nod. “I have the codes and login. It should keep you in the system long enough, but I wouldn’t bet against a full shut down happening, considering the situation here,” as she spoke, the telepath reached out with her powers and implanted them into Max’s mind; gifting him the plethora of access codes, passwords and all the back ways into files that the man was not even authorised to view, but had snuck into anyway. It was the guilt of this that Betsy had picked up on, causing her to single him out at first. But, she was not one to go without a backup plan so standing beside Max, the White Queen scanned other minds for other ways around the system if all else failed, using herself as a hub, transferring all the knowledge on to the Black King. Sage would have been in her element here, but just because she was not there did not mean they could give up and not even try.

“What the hell are we dealing with here, Max…” Betsy breathed softly, her words less of a question, more of a release of tension. Ever since England the telepath knew all too well that they were dealing with something nasty but it was only since leaving there and returning to the Club that the scale was becoming more apparent and now… But deal with it they would, because now it was so very personal to them and the insult and injury to their own was not taken lightly, by any means.
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