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| All the Snares of Man; (X-Factor and Morlocks) | |
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| Topic Started: Jun 21 2012, 07:10 AM (1,306 Views) | |
| Foxx | Jun 26 2012, 08:05 AM Post #16 |
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Unregistered
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There was a row and a ruckus and something hairy with too many arms threw off her aim, putting her out of touch and off target. She caught her own fall in a roll, sliding to a stop. Foxx stared at her hands, something was moving, in that fine fur, she scratched at it, it moved away, scratched at it more, following it. Why was this a priority? The fur came off, revealing blue beneath. "No!" She hushed, brought out of that odd revelation by the sound of Volt's explosion, the dying skrull landing at her side. "Guh!" Foxx shouted, falling backwards onto her hands and scrambling backwards while the green thing beside her melted into a pile of snakes, hissing and warding her off. She scrambled to her feet, checking her hand again. Nothing. Of course, that wasn't how it worked. Her mouth was dry, plagued with a disgusting taste the likes of which she never wanted to have again. Golden-orange eyes turned to the fight between Anansi and the two others, scanned over to the rainbow-colored one just as she caught a boot in the gut. The force of it exploded a clowed of brightly colored butterflies from her back. Clawed hands stretched out. "Hey! Ye feckin thing you! You... fuckin thing." As she neared the pair, the dim of the cavern, already illuminated with her enhanced vision, grow lighter and brighter, more vibrant than ever, swirling off of the appropriate shapes and latching on to all the wrong spaces. Things warped, moved out of line with how they should have been. She placed a clawed hand on Tourniquet's shoulder, tried to wrench him away from Tommy, but with her reflexes slowing and her perceptions all asunder she caught only air before her cheek caught his elbow and she spun to the ground behind him, the sudden bout of dizziness fueling nausea as she wretched, holding back bile. A bright flash bloomed in her periphery as Havok blasted someone down, and a clockwork dragon came flying towards her out of the light and she fell backwards, grabbing the knife from her boot and flailing it madly at the phantom creature that existed nowhere but in her own field of vision. A hand caught her and hoisted her high by the collar, turning her to look at the Skrull that had been bliss. Blood gushing from its mouth, it took the knife from her hand, turned it in his grasp, and readied it to plunge into her chest. The pain was sharp and wild and more than she'd felt in a while, the gnashing beast giving its cruel smile and tossing her aside. |
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| Anansi | Jun 26 2012, 09:45 AM Post #17 |
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Spider physiology
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The situation around him quickly devolved into madness. Fighting between the Morlocks, the green aliens and X-Factor spread throughout the cavern. As he had leapt at the Plague replica he had noticed that a white furred woman had gone after her and he felt bad about taking her target, but his brother was in trouble. Since then he had been kicking serious fake morlock ass. His blades were bathed in green blood, and the smell was almost making him gag. The trouble with these aliens was the fact that they could take a beating and keep coming. Unfortunately he had a few bruises and scraps himself. One of his arms was missing having been torn off and tossed aside. Thankfully the blood had stopped pumping and had kept him from suffering to much. Dodging a overhead punch, Anansi was forced to try and keep his footing as the cavern rumbled with the after shock of an explosion. All around him people were fighting. He could barely keep track of all the fighting even with his eyes it was hard. The spider did see the Callisto copy go after Havok and engage in a fight. He hated himself he couldn't believe that he had followed someone that insane. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered what the actual Callisto was like. Seeing the woman that he had blocked from attacking Plague go help Tommy he would have to thank her after. Being distracted by a falling rock he rolled off to the side to avoid being crushed. Coming back up to his feet he looked over just to see the alien version of Bliss stab the woman in the chest. Hissing in anger, he quickly ran up behind the creature. Getting up behind Bliss, he switched the grip of his kukri's and plunged them along each side of her spine. Pulling upwards he tore muscle, ligaments and tendons in quick, painful succession. At the same time he reached in with one hand and grabbing the spine went all Predator on her, pulling it out with a powerful tug. The sound of shattering bone, tearing flesh and sputtering blood echoed. The creature collapsed in a pile of loose limbs and blood. Tossing the spine to the side he went to the woman's side and pulling out a bandage pressed it to the wound. "C'mon your not going to die here, not if I can help it," he said pressing gauze over the wound and wrapping it. |
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| Ink | Jun 26 2012, 02:27 PM Post #18 |
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Iconographic Power Mimicry
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JP Ink and “Roadkill” With a sadistic grin Borden twisted the knife in his palm, golden eyes gleaming in the dim light of the underground city as he brought the tip down to make the first incision. Turning his head only slightly at the sound of Karza’s voice, he kept his eyes on Ink, and his blade against the vulnerable softness of his neck. He looked at the etched hide of the Morlock and made a huffed chortling noise that sounded like an engine turning over on a bitter cold morning. “Of course,” he said to her with amusement and tenderness. The focus of the room suddenly shifted to Borden, and flicking his gaze over at the flash of movement his eyes widened as one of the X-Factor apes suddenly launched a volley of luminous blades at him. Twisting his body he managed to avoid all but one which grazed his shoulder as it whisked past. His eyes shot open as bright white filled his mind and his own blade slipped from his grasp with a metallic clatter on the stone floor. It was then that the whirling blades of the spider caught him on the side. With green oozing out of his side, he fell off of the Morlock with wide and unblinking eyes trying to peer through the curtain of white that had suddenly obscured his vision. With Borden’s knife-edge no longer pressed against his throat, Ink seized the opportunity to put some distance between him and the blinded beast. With a solid kick, he sent the whatever-the-fuck-it-was rolling a few feet away while still in its stupor as he scrambled to pick himself up off the rocky floor. He felt a pull in his shoulder, a throbbing ache from when the green-skinned creature slammed into him with a force that the genuine Sloan would likely be covetous of. These were not simple copies – they were… beyond the prototype. “Wha- What the fuck is this, man? Invasion of the body-snatching dinosaur shitheads?!” he spat. He warily inched toward the beast, donning a coat of armored skin that glistened like diamond silk. The ink-etched man landed another kick on Borden’s counterfeit form, this time to his newly acquired wound. The sound of a cracking rib made him pause, in addition to inspiring a quiver of repugnance that traveled from his foot to the base of his skull. It looked like Sloan, but this liar’s farce held no sympathy for Ink, and so the tattooed man suppressed his own compassion as he glared down upon the sickly creature. “Fuckin’ try to stab me?!” he roared, a fist leveled just at Borden’s eye line – a threat of more beatings to come. Borden blinked his eyes a couple of times, focusing on the voice in front of him as his eyes started to see hazy and blurred outlines in front of him. He shook his head to clear away the dazed and stunned feeling away and it wasn’t until he felt the sharp bite of fresh pain flaring through his knife-torn side that his yellow eyes snapped wide open. He zeroed in on the form of Ink standing before him. Dropping his weight back he cartwheeled his legs around and swept the feet right out from under the tattooed Morlock. With gritted teeth he grabbed the knife again. “You are going to pay for that one you dirty ape,” he said getting slowly to his feet. But as the caverns shook around him, Borden hesitated. He suddenly heard a crackling splinter sound coming from above, and looked up just in time to see a great rock pillar toppling toward him. He slid out of the way just before it crashed to his feet placing a large stone barrier between himself and Ink. |
[align=center]"Show me a man with a tattoo and I'll show you a man with an interesting past." - Jack London![]() Biohazardous Touch - Night Vision - Explosive Strike - Enhanced Durability Cerebro File - Thread Journal[/align] | |
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| Reptil | Jun 26 2012, 05:27 PM Post #19 |
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Prehistoric Reptile Traits
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The two mutants went blow for blow, neither one of them willing to give in. Their tough hides made it difficult to land a shot that would otherwise debilitate. Humberto took a swing for Bulwark’s thick skull with every intention to cave it in. The larger mutant jump out of its path and came back with a straight shot that knocked Humberto back into the wall causing a larger hole to form. He growled, spittle dripping from the corners of his mouth. At this point he did not care about what was going on around them. All that matter was taking this imposter down. He was going to pay with death for taking over the life of Bulwark. Just like the fake Callisto, Humberto was unsure of how long the real one had been gone or if he even knew him. As the green skinned monster rushed him again, Humberto waited until the last moment before turning around and driving his shell into his front side. The large spikes punctured skin, but hit nothing vital. What a shame. Bulwark caught him in a tight grip squeezing to break the young man. Humberto was not about to let that happen though. He brought his tail up right between the opponent’s legs with more than enough force to crack coconuts. Bulwark immediately released his grip on Humberto and gripped his much damaged and now useless crotch. “You fucking genetic waste!” he spewed. “Shutup!” Humberto’s tail took a crack at Bulwark’s chin. The heavy club knocked a few teeth across the cavern and left the jaw hanging loose and bloody and broken. He wasted no time in going on the offensive again, this time by swinging for the right side ribs then the knee. Once Bulwark was brought down to a more manageable level, Humberto drove his knee into the green bastard’s wrinkly chin. The fight was not over yet. Bulwark grabbed him by the ankles and flung him high. Using his overpowered legs, he jumped up ramming his shoulders into the reptilian mutant’s sternum and forcing him into the high ceiling. Blood and spit shot from Humberto’s mouth on impact. “Die, die, die!” The ankylosaurus features retreated back into Humberto’s skin as something much more deadly took its place. As the two combatants plummeted back to the ground, Bulwark held him on his shoulders. The crash would no doubt break him in half. He was not about to lose to this piece of crap. He had been fighting his whole damn life, faced down opponents deadlier than this. Humberto grabbed at the severed jaw and gave one fierce yank that pulled it free completely. The head of the young mutant had by now been replaced by one of the meanest and deadliest predators to ever walk the land: the tyrannosaurus rex. Just before they hit the ground, his massive jaws locked onto the back of Bulwark’s neck and his body twisted. When the dust from the fall settled, Humberto was left with injured ribs while the replica was left lifeless. Its head was now facing 180 degrees in the opposite direction. His chest heaved as his head returned to normal. Unfortunately there was no time to rest up. The cavern was shaking and splintering and the humans were still in jeopardy. Havok called for action. He responded in kind despite the shooting pain. He had felt much worse before. Humberto got back to his feet and rushed to the civilians to begin evacuation. |
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| X-23 | Jun 27 2012, 12:04 AM Post #20 |
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Wolverine-Girl
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Joint Post with X-23 and Volt Another rope snapped like a slender thread as she brought her claws down in a graceful arc, slicing through it. Again, Laura grabbed the rope and controlled the descent, before turning ready to bring down the last human. Her heart stopped in her chest however as she saw the scene unfolding with Volt and one of the monsters who had attacked under the guise of a Morlock. About to jump into the fray, the clone froze as the woman’s attack backfired in the most deadly of manners. “Volt?!” she called out to her clone brother. They did not share any genetics, at all, but the nature of their creation bonded them in a way that few could truly understand. As she watched, she saw him make for the man still strung up and it was not until he began to speak, that X-23 felt that she knew what had happened; he had lost his human nature and was the killing machine once more. “NO!” The pain of realisation hit her like a blade to the chest and without thinking, the feral sprang through the chaos towards him, releasing the claws on her other hand as she did so. “Unhand the man. Remember who you are or I shall make you remember!” coming up beside him, the clone forced her arm outstretched between the man and her prey, the claws withdrawing momentarily, least he try and stab the man with them. It was something she may have done, when she was not in control of her own actions, using another’s weapons on an innocent party. Volt was genuinely astonished by the suddenness of the attack by the girl, and he dropped his hand from the man's throat. He turned to look at her, and there was no shine of recognition, no hint of anything but a vague confusion masked by a callous emptiness. "Who is my target?" he asked, "I've been compromised somehow." He took a step towards her, one hand still blazing with electricity, "Where am I? Who are you?" He tilted his head, curiously, "You aren't one of my master's, but you're one of my kind, aren't you? You look... synthetic." Volt smirked, and his eyes lit from behind with the electricity that coursed through him, "I have an assignment, and if I can't remember who I'm supposed to kill, then I suppose I will just have to make sure I don't leave anyone alive." He thrust his hand out and blasted his lightning at this little clone girl who thought she could keep him from his work. Laura’s eyes widened a little as he continued. He did not remember anything. “You are Volt. Jonny. You taught me how to be a person. You are a member of X-Factor and a…a good friend. To many,” the words were all that Laura could say, before Volt attacked, hitting her square in the chest with a blast of electricity. It shot through her body and she went flying backwards, slumping against a column, her hair singed. But not for long. After being stunned for the initial minute, her healing factor kicked in and as painful it was, especially as the small amount of adamantium in her body meant that she conducted electricity very well, she struggled back to her feet, breathing hard. “You are Volt…Jonny. My friend and you will remember who you are,” her words were struggled, her breathing heavy, but Laura pitched herself forwards all the same, lunging at Volt and striking out with a fist to his face. If he was not in control, then she felt that deep down, she knew he would want her to stop him from hurting someone. There were many reactions to his attacks, sometimes the spastic dance of tormented muscles, sometimes the mimic of a heart attack, sometimes the blackening of skin like an over cooked slab of meat. Never had he seen the lightning echo in a person's body as if there was metal... she staggered to her feet and he could already see there was healing beginning, "Who made you..." he gasped, but she did not answer. She was saying things that made no sense. Jonny... the name... "What the hell are you..." She was fast, too fast, and she suddenly swung at him, clocking him in the face. His head rocked back and cracked into a pillar. Stars bloomed in his vision, and his teeth rattled. "Friend?" he growled, as he tried to pull himself together, he could feel blood on his face, and trickling down his hair, "You always punch your friends in the face?" Both hands filled with lightning and he took an unsteady step towards her, the world spinning and the air rumbling. "I have a job to do..." he said, again, "I have to do my job." He flung out his hands unleashing his power... or he thought he was going to, something stopped him, something prevented him from killing her. "Laura..." he murmured, as if he was unaware of it. “I do when they need to remember who they are!” Laura challenged, raising her voice above the chaos of the battle ensuing in the cavern. Her body was still healing, burnt black in patches, but she could stand and that was good enough. The blood pounded in her ears as she circled the other clone. If she could not make him remember…or bring him down…then these green hued monsters would be the very least of their problems. Volt kept talking, repeating that he had to do his job to do. Putting her weight on her back heel, she was about to launch at him again, when he faltered before her as if dazed. “Volt?” she relaxed, just a fraction. Keeping her fist raised, she stared at him, awaiting his response. If this was a ruse, then she would surely have to take him down, at least until something could be done to fix him. "This is... this is bullshit..." Volt spat, staring at his hands as if they betrayed him, blinking sweat and blood and dust out of his eyes, "What the hell is happening to me? I need my orders...I need my..." "X-Factor! Get these people out of here! Move!" came a voice in his head... no his ears. He realised now that he was wearing a radio, and some semblence of a uniform jacket. Volt's eyes went wide and he said, "She drove me out of my head... Laura... I don't want to be this... I don't know... Help me..." Both hands banished their glowing sparking blue and he clamped them over his head, "I can see the universe, what's wrong with me... what..." A fresh rumble from above drove his eyes up to the explosion damaged ceiling, and Jonny whispered, "What have I done?" Watching him, Laura suddenly realised that this must have been her at some point in her life. Lost, confused, not sure what way to turn. But now she knew differently because she had been taught by Volt especially. Relaxing, X-23 moved forwards and closed her hand around Jonny’s wrist. “Your orders are to clear this room of people,” her voice was even and insistent. “But we shall do it together, brother. Come,” she pulled him again, wanting to get him to move and not sure what else she could do, at least not now. The fear was making her almost shake. “Please?” "Clear the room.." Jon said, quietly, and he could already feel the fading of the assassin, cold calculations being replaced by dizzying emptiness and searching. "Laura..." he put his hand to her face, and said, "Sister? Little sister? Did I hurt you?" He dropped his hand as she pulled his arm to get him to move. "Clear the room," he said, "Yes... I can do that... I can help..." Volt reached out to touch her face and she did not flinch, instead looking him directly in the eyes, neutral and in control of her own emotions once more. “Nothing that I cannot heal, brother. Let us go help,” turning, she gave a swift jerk of her head towards where there were humans still in need of help in getting out of the cavern, even though they had been released from their bonds. “Let us end this for them.” He was still struggling through the haze, his eyes not entirely focused, but Laura had given him an anchor, and the Bossman... not his Master, not Mojo... he had given orders. It would take Jonny some time to shake the effects of Skrullterbrain's attack, but it was not the first time he'd had to reassemble himself, and it would likely not be the last. He set to work, starting with the man he'd nearly killed. "What the hell is wrong with you?" the hostage gasped as he was released, pushing Jon away and stumbling backwards. Jonny looked over at Laura and said to the man, "Not as much as before." He pushed the man towards the escape, "Help the others, go, get out of here." Then, Jon turned to the next human who needed help. Helping kept him from killing. It was an anchor. Laura had reminded him of that. He felt great pride for her, even though he couldn't remember teaching her this. |
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| TBowen | Jun 28 2012, 01:50 AM Post #21 |
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Light-Based Daggers and Projection/Detoxification
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JP between Plague (Karza) and Dagger Karza hadn’t even seen the eight-legged monstrosity approaching her until she was sailing away from him. She hit a nearby pillar with a grunt and landed without grace in a crumpled mess of limbs. Hissing, the Skrull picked herself up but chose to deal with the immediate threat and the bitch more deserving of her attention over the spider psycho; because Dagger had chosen to attack her lover and Karza would not stand for it. “You turpitude cunt! I’ll choke you with your own intestines!” she growled, summoning a particularly twisted strain of anaphylaxis into her hands. She had every intention of making the white-clad mutant suffer, thinking up numerous ways in which to torture her. The false Plague lunged at the other woman, teeth bared as she gave a battle cry for Skrullos in her native tongue. Dagger raised a brow at Anansi as the spider-mutant jumped in the way of her flying daggers. Luckily for him, he managed to twist out of the way of them. Regardless, that wasn't very smart. Thankfully, one of the light daggers struck her original target and looked to have stunned Roadkill, which was her desired effect. She had never killed anyone with her powers yet and she didn't even intend to, but the way things were progressing she wasn't sure if she could keep that streak alive. Tandy's head snapped towards the Skrull woman as she called her a cunt, along with another word that she didn't quite know the meaning of. It probably wasn't an adjective that twisted that sentence into a compliment though. Tilting her head slightly as Karza growled, Dagger held both hands out to either side of her body. Two light daggers formed, appearing to have come out of thin air, and she spun them both in her hands until they came around she held them by their hilts. "You got a dirty mouth!" Dagger said, dropping back into a fighting position and holding a light dagger up in each of her hands. Her mind raced in preparation for the coming attack, attempting to remember the lessons she had learned from Daredevil and from her own experience in the street as a vigilante. As Karza charged, Dagger took a step back and swung upwards with a dagger in order to hit the Skrull in the torso. Karza pivoted too late and the luminescent weapon grazed her side, but it was enough to carry through with the effects. She expected bloodshed but was disappointed to learn it had stunned her, and she stumbled sideways as if drunk. She clutched at her head to re-gather her bearings, doubled over to appear more injured than she truly was. The Skrull meant to lure Tandy over, her tenderly chosen illness still lying in wait. It wasn’t that the alien expected a sudden change of heart in the other woman for her to approach with concern, but she did expect arrogance to take over, and with that attitude came stupidity. One slip was all she needed... Tandy wasn't exactly new to fighting and she was pretty damn familiar with her abilities. When her dagger touched the Skrull in the side, she knew that the light would take effect and that the Skrull would be temporarily stunned. So when Karza doubled over, Dagger wanted to do what any fighter wanted to do... finish it off as quickly as possible. "Let's clean that mouth up a bit," Dagger said as she took a step towards the Skrull. Daredevil was never a big talker as he whipped people's asses, but from what she had heard of Spider-Man, he was. So perhaps it was to keep her focused or to maybe to throw the opponent off, she attempted to talk a bit of trash. With that said, Dagger stepped in closer to Karza and threw a boot upwards, fully intending on kicking the doubled over Skrull right in the mouth. Seizing the opportunity, the violent woman grabbed Tandy’s boot and held onto it fiercely, like one might the hand of another hanging from a cliff. Her mouth spread into a vicious grin, eyes dancing with danger, as she reached out with her free hand and locked her fingers around the pretty mutant’s throat. “I reject your aid, you filthy mutant!” With Plague’s ability, Karza could afford to trash talk, because the instant her skin made contact with Dagger’s, she transferred the disease. Cackling, she shoved away from the other half of Cloak and waited for the show to begin, practically panting from anticipation. It wasn't that Dagger was taken by surprise by the block and the way the Skrull grabbed her foot. Hell, she had been punched and beaten up quite a few times. The thing that surprised her was the burning sensation that began occurring as soon as Karza grabbed her by the throat. Immediately, red hives began to rise on her skin, beginning at the neck and spreading down her chest and up onto her face. They were little more than red blotchy bumps that burned and itched. A minor nuisance, sure. Dagger stumbled backwards as she was pushed away by her throat, immediately raising her hands up in order to continue the fight. However, her left knee gave way unexpectedly and she crashed on the floor, dizziness suddenly overtaking her. Her throat began to burn and she felt her tongue begin to swell. She raised a hand up and saw the red blotches all over her hands and her fingers began to puff up as her body began to go into anaphylactic shock. "What did... did you.. you do?" Tandy managed to say, the "C" shaped light fading from around her right eye. Any other light she had conjured faded away as well and she even lost the sparkle in her eyes, leaving her feeling as if she was alone in the dark. Slumping over to her side, Dagger began to wheeze as if she was suddenly experiencing a severe asthma attack and it appeared to take all her effort to even breath. The darkness began to make her think of Cloak and somehow, it seemed very welcoming. |
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| Plague | Jun 28 2012, 10:40 PM Post #22 |
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Pathogenic Control
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JP Ink, “Plague”, and Tommy Ink could only hack and cough as the veil of dust let loose from the pillar’s impact swirled within his windpipe. Leaning against the dilapidated column, he searched for his opponent as he spat the grime out of his mouth in great, retching exhales. It appeared to him as though Roadkill’s pretender was crushed beneath the stone, though he should be so lucky. As the dust began to settle and the tattooed man regained his bearings, cerulean orbs caught sight of another hideous mockery of his friendships. Worse still, the monstrosity was assaulting his luminescent savior, and he would have none of it. Breaking off a splinter of rock large enough to utilize as a club, he marched over to the sickly green creature, wielding the makeshift weapon like a baseball bat, and swung with all his wrath and vexation channeled into what strength he had left. It robbed Karza of her cruelty, for she so badly wanted to gloat over Dagger and her mortified shock. Karza spun as if in mid-twirl amidst some deadly dance and was momentarily rendered useless on the ground. She had heard the fracture, a sickening echoey crack from within, but she was unsure what sounded more repulsive; the breaking or the healing. For the Skrull made haste to shift the bone back into place, needing to heal as quickly as possible in order to eliminate the other nauseating noise nearby. Plague’s body rolled and hoisted itself up to a kneeling position, spitting out blood in Ink’s direction and staring pure, hot animosity in his direction. “<Foul, ostentatious skin bag,>” she said with a snicker, missing the language she was born knowing. For him, she pooled severe irritable bowel first, wanting to inflict as many diseases as she could into the arrogant Morlock. He kept his distance, conscious of the hazard inherent within skin-to-skin contact with the false-faced hag. He swung the stone club before him in a few broad sweeps; a threat for her to stay back lest he end her. His skin still held its smooth, crystal sheen and the augmented resilience that came with it – a stark contrast to the spongy, pallid green flesh of his foe. “I don’t speak fucktard, you fucktard!” he growled back at her. Karza simply tutted with a slow shake of her head. “Are you that moronic that you cannot even pick up on emotions conveyed through tone and body language?” she quipped with a snigger. Pushing herself up to her full height, the alien cracked her neck with a content sigh. “Why don’t you come play a little closer, Gutter? I’ve seen the way you look at the host... is she aware of your affections? Do you think she will mourn for long when news of your ghastly demise reaches her ears?” His eyes widened upon her admission that Plague was still breathing somewhere, someplace. “Okay, first off? Gross! Second? Yeah, let’s play! I never got to join little league, but it’s never too late to relive your childhood,” he grunted before swinging the club at her ankles, knocking the woman off her feet. Karza crashed into the ground with a dull thud, catching herself on all fours. She was so very tired of these rendezvous with the cavern floor. Ink moved in closer for a meeting between his boot and her gut, but Karza would have to cancel. With a swift flourish, she grasped his leg and pulled him to the ground. The tattooed man landed on his back, a sharp pain radiating from the point where a rock had struck him wrong in his descent. Karza pounced, clawing hands outstretched before her, aiming at the exposed skin of his neck or perhaps that marble-carved face he seemed so pleased with. With a strained grunt, Ink launched her overhead as his feet met her midsection and Karza sailed away from him. Scrambling back upwards, he held fast to his makeshift weapon and took a rearward step. He’d make sure to keep her at least the distance of his club away. Another risk like that could leave him riddled with some mutated strain of super AIDS or some equally unpleasant shit, he feared. She feigned fatigue, using the nearest wall as a makeshift support, assisting her to an upright position. Though Karza leaned heavily against the cool stones, she could actually go another few rounds. “I promise not to mar that colorful skin of yours, mutant. I’ve no intentions of that. It’s your insides that interest me most. How susceptible they will be to polio and TB, how they will writhe with Ischemic heart disease and lupus. I collected a few little treats especially for you, cuz. Besties for always, right?” She winked, her smile no less than creepy and chilling as she gnashed her teeth in Ink’s direction. “Yeah… Until death do us part and all that shit,” he muttered as he circled her. “Cliché yet obligatory ‘too bad that’ll be in the next five minutes’ comment to come. Stay tuned!” He closed in, reeling back his club before bringing it down toward the crown of her head. The Plague snatcher waited until the very last moment before she revealed her strength, shoving away from the wall to meet the crude weapon head on. She caught it between her lime green hands and crumbled it easily, as if it had been papier-mâché, a piñata of pebbles scattering around them. Leaving no time for a reaction, vocal or otherwise, Karza shot her hand out and wrapped it around Eric’s neck, tenderly at first like a lover but then turning the grip harsh. As with Tandy, the instant their skin was flush, she slipped him a foul case of irritable bowel syndrome. “Now you truly are like your namesake,” the Skrull mused, tearing her nails along Ink’s flesh as she yanked her hand away and took a defensive stance in preparation for retaliation. Though it would be unlikely he’d get very far with how quickly the illness coursed through his system. When her clawed hand had grasped his throat, Ink fully expected to be convulsing in the throes of some fatal disease about now, his vision fading to black perhaps. Instead, he retched up spittle as his stomach roiled in pain. She was toying with him, the bitch. He stumbled backwards, catching himself against a fallen pillar. “W-what the fuck did you do to me?” he spat, wiping the sour dribble off his lips. He felt the grip on his power fade, and hardened flesh turned soft and supple. The ink-etched man tried to retreat from her, but his legs buckled. He felt abnormally exhausted, the hag’s spores having done their job and inflicting him with inescapable fatigue. His disgraceful downfall was so thoroughly amusing that Karza temporarily lost herself to laughter, the sort that caused one to clutch at their stomach and bend from the effort. It was simply too much, Ink’s misery. And yet, it wasn’t enough. Not if she meant him six feet under. The Skrull nearly slithered over to him, hovering just before his sweaty, pathetic face and then gingerly claiming his chin. The false Plague shamelessly stole a kiss, infusing the Morlock with a cocktail of TB and malaria in their most fatal forms, and something straight from home; an illness that went straight for the bones and turned them brittle like aged pine needles. She simpered, licking her lips as she canted her head to sweetly hiss into Eric’s ear. “So that you may never forget the name Karza, beloved.” Ink doubled over, clenching his stomach with one hand while he covered his mouth to stem a bloodied cough, crimson liquid oozing out of his mouth with every exhale. His bones felt aflame, agony coursing within his being whilst he tried to strike at Karza in a dizzying state of fevered dementia. His punches lanced air and nothing more, missing his target by several inches as the woman simply gawked at him in sadistic delight. If she were less engrossed in the suffering of her tattooed victim, Karza might have seen the warp in the air that signaled the precursor to her downfall. Grabbing a jagged splinter of Ink’s discarded club, Tommy made herself visible long enough for Karza to see her attacker before plunging the shard into her eye, piercing through bone and sliding through gray matter like a knife to warm butter. The sickly green woman howled in pain, prattling something wretched in her native Skrull, slurred and staggered by the shard of rock lodged in the speech center of her brain. “Get away from him!” Tommy screamed as she launched atop Karza’s back, attempting to drive the large stone splinter deeper into her skull. With a furious grin, the disease-ridden hag pumped a particularly lethal strain of Ebola into the virtuous young girl. Tommy’s skin broke into a rash as her stomach turned and she lost her grip on Karza, falling backwards onto the stony floor. Her throat met with an unquenchable thirst and her muscles ached, whipping her limbs about in spasms. Karza moved in on the girl, turning her back to Ink as she lifted her up by the neck to the point where her feet dangled a foot off the ground. The shard of rock jutted out of the green-skinned woman’s mangled face, black ichor dripping from the wound as she spoke to Tommy in a hiss. “That was a disastrously pathetic attempt, you useless creature.” “I-I’m not useless,” she murmured. "No, I suppose you can be of some use to me as a plaything before I off you for good. Your cuz is only worth a skin rug now anyway," she cooed, envisioning -for not the first time- Ink splayed out on her floor back home. “Hey…, cuz!” Karza’s head snapped back at Ink’s voice, letting her hold slip on Tommy as Ink’s energy-charged fist collided with the rock embedded in the creature’s skull. The pastel-skinned girl dropped to the floor as Karza’s good eye widened in disbelief before the stone erupted in a blast of flaming, stony shrapnel that tore the upper half of her skull asunder like a shotgun. The Skrull’s body stayed upright for a second before it went limp and slammed into the floor, a pool of black sludge forming around the gaping, cavernous hole in what used to be her face, though it was now nothing but a bloody void. “Maybe… Maybe it wasn’t five minutes, but… but… you get the gist,” he muttered at the corpse. He staggered backwards, glancing at Tommy’s huddled form. Her skin seemed to revert to its normal pristine nature as blood ceased pouring past Ink’s lips and his stomach settled somewhat. With the hag dead, her diseases retreated and crept away. “You… okay, Tom-Tom?” “Y-Yeah… I’m… fine,” she replied weakly, breathing in great heaves. “Cool…” And then the darkness took him. |
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| Tommy | Jun 29 2012, 07:03 PM Post #23 |
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Two-Dimensional Form/ Camouflaging
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JP “Roadkill”, Ink, and Tommy Borden had not escaped the pillar, not entirely. Though his body was well-suited for heightened reflexes, and though he had leaped out of the way from the toppling monolith…he hadn’t quite been quick enough. The column crashed down, crushing the tip of his tail beneath it, and pinning him agonizingly in place. Though it hurt like hell, he did his best to try to free himself, pulling with all of his strength and struggling to lift the massive stone structure with little to no effect. Glancing over his shoulder he saw his beloved Karza was in trouble and redoubled his efforts. With gritted teeth he took hold of the pillar and pulled up on it with everything he had and finally was able to slide his crushed appendage out. It was a mangled mess of flattened flesh, and the throbbing pain was almost overwhelming. But he did his best to push that aside and turned toward Karza just in time to see the final, fatal blow. He opened his mouth to scream in a loud alien voice just as half of her head blew off. With shock and fury he launched himself at the falling Morlock. Sharp claws tore at him furiously, shredding clothing and ripping into flesh as a rage like he had never known took hold of him. Grabbing the unconscious Ink by the neck Borden brought up his clawed hand and prepared to bring it down for one final killing blow. Tommy watched in dread as another Skrull emerged in the wake of one’s death, though Borden’s attempt at a fatal strike would not find purchase. Ink had awakened to a flurry of digging talons and flailing limbs, some seemingly his own as he was whipped about by the throat. As the sickly green farce launched what was to be his closing blow, Borden’s ears picked up a nauseating sound that stopped his slicing claws just short of Ink’s jugular – his own flesh ripping, veins bubbling up with ichor as something struck bone. Tommy had leapt atop his back, though where the strength came from was anyone’s guess. The weakened girl had seen enough – enough of cheapened souls and sadism incarnate. She held onto Borden’s writhing form, willowy arms wrapped tight around his neck, and squeezed as she attempted to pull the beast off her barely conscious friend. Everything seemed to recede and the outer layer of her body became numb as her beating heart siphoned off whatever blood it could to pump faster still. She didn’t feel her forearms, now razor-sharp, begin to slice through Borden’s flesh, though the snapping of her bones as they cut through hardened calcium elicited a wince of agony from the Morlock, but she pressed on in a horrified daze. Yellow eyes going wide, Borden stopped with his claws resting on Ink’s throat as something bit into his neck. He looked down just in time to see a shape impossibly passing through him and a horrible whining sound came out of his mouth as his head slid forward and off of his body. With a hollow thump the green head hit the cold unyielding stone and actually bounced just a little. His rigid body fell forward into a final embrace on Ink, leaking out massive amounts of thick green blood as the head came to a stop. Borden’s sightless eyes stared fixedly into the gaping mess that had once been Karza’s face. |
[align=center]"I was just a young girl. Drain angels, they called us."![]() Cerebro File - Thread Journal[/align] | |
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| Callisto | Jul 9 2012, 07:14 AM Post #24 |
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Unregistered
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JP Alex, Foxx, and You-Know-Who The Skrulls went down, one by one, fighting X-Factor, fighting Morlocks. This was not what should've been, not what any of them expected. Had they known that Callisto was one of those things? Didn't look like it by the way they were reacting. It didn't matter though, not anymore, because she was down and they needed to get everyone out of here. Jon and Laura were evacuating the chamber, freeing all the humans as quickly as they could. Neither Clone was entirely right, but they were working in tandem, and working well. Another shower of debris from above caused a slight panic, but Havok stared upwards, his eyes studying the faultline that the explosion had created. "Everyone out now!" he ordered, "Everyone, morlocks too. Get the hell out before this place comes down around our heads." He kept staring upwards, his eyes following the cracks. "Come on, come on..." he muttered. Pulling herself up from her sitting position, she looked at the heaped corpse of her attacker, and Foxx's eyes tensed as she clutched at the knife in her chest. Pulling it out with a yelp of pain, she looked tentatively around before the bleeding patch turned briefly a deep blue before it quickly stitched itself back together. Staggering to her feet she surveyed the battleground as she focused on the toxins invading her system, trying to will her body to burn it out as quickly as she could. But Bliss's toxins were strong and in her weakened state, her vision still blurred as phantom shapes plagued her vision. Havoks orders of retreat were more welcome than she'd have liked, and as she move towards the exit, her boot caught another crumbled shape and she nearly fell, catching the sight of the small girl, Tommy, in her periphery, left for dead in the chaos. Bloodied, bruised, and battered, arms torn to shreds, she mustered what strength she could, hoisting her as best she was able over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, heading along with the others for the exit. She grunted; though the girl was light, right now even her feet felt heavy. This hero shit was for the birds. Volt looked up at where Havok was looking, but he couldn;t see anything. He wanted to say something to him, to talk to him, but he couldn't figure out what he was supposed to say. He helped the last human down from her prison, and shoved her after the others. "X..." he said, looking to the other clone, "We need to go. He's ordering us..." Turning his head, he saw that Foxx was struggling and though he felt no true inclination to help her, thanks to the scrambling in his mind, he went for her anyhow, helping her carry the rainbow colored morlock free. Havok waited until the hall was cleared before he did what he knew he had to do, what his study of the earth's crust and it's properties had taught him. At the exact point of fault collapse, Havok aimed his fist and blasted with his hottest rings of superheated plasma, melting the stone, slowly at first, but then running into the cracks, melding them together. Above them was New York, above them was the city and its people. He couldn't let this collapse on them, he couldn't let them fall. Dropping his fist, he watched as the stone began to cool, and then... it held. "Score one for the geophysics major," Alex smirked, and he turned to go, planning on sealing this cavern on his way out... but as he passed the piles of bombs he realized something that made him feel cold for the first time since his powers kicked in properly... some of the bombs were still active... but how? Jon had fried the detonators on most of them, and the rest should have been taken down when Skrullisto fell. Unless... Alex slowly turned to where he had left her body. And out she lept, eyes bright in their yellow glow, skin a smoldering blackish green. What remained of Callisto's inherent accuities fueling her, the senses of pain having left with the burns that had destroyed nerve and caution alike. She moved with a ludicrous speed and a vicious fervor, snarling and spitting in anger as she swung her first towards him, across his jaw, voice shouting out the ugliest portions of her peoples tongues, incoherent gibberish to those present, but words laced with ire and odium that would make even the most hardened of her brethren ashamed. Her other hand held onto a wicked blade, its shining edge glinting like a firefly in the dakrness. She struck at him again and again, mustering all she could of her template's speed and agility, pushed ever forward by rage and cindered pride. The attack came so quick, so fast, that Alex stumbled backwards, tripping over some debris. She was on him, swinging her fists and her blade. Almost panicked, he caught the blade, as it came inches from his thoat, slicing his palms clean through the slick soft blackness of his suit. He gasped in pain and his rings of heat turned the metal into something glowing red, and wavering in her grasp. His booted feet came up into her solar plexus and he kicked her backwards, wishing he had Piet's leg strength for this. She pushed the knife down, towards his throat, planting it through his hand, pearly white fangs blaring against blackened face, her eyes crazed and wild, livid and lustful for all of this. "Gonna enjoy this." She muttered, pushing her other hand on the butt of the knife, pushing it further, but then she saw it glow red, and the momentary distraction saw his leg reach up and kick her away, sending her stumbling backwards, each step a whirlwind of maddening pain she couldn't feel nor comprehend. It was all a stall. Those bombs were ticking and when that last second melted away the trigger would send everything above down around them. She needed only to hold him here, and then she'd have her gratification in death. Sril'rt dove forward again, leaning to the side, kicking wide off the wall at the last second and shooting her legs out over his shoulders, trying to push him to the ground the the force of her weight. If he wouldn't accept the blade, she'd give him the weapons of her ancestors, and rend him apart with tooth and claw. Maybe a few years ago Alex wouldn't have known what to do.Never figured he was a born fighter, could count the time he threw a punch on one hand, but that was before the world changed for him, and he realized what he truly was. That had awakened something in him that he never knew exist until it was forced out of him by Apocalypse's manipulations. Alex Summers was, like his brother, like his father, a warrior. As she tried to knock him over, he flung himself backwards, so that she was swung hard into the wall. "This is not going to end well for you, you bitch," Alex spat, "What the hell did you do with Callisto? Where is she? What is it you want?" The world moved into a dilated spectrum, her seared hand tensing against the wall, slowing the impact as her side and head slammed hard into it, prying a shout of pain from her that filled the chamber with an unearthly bellow of angered anguish. Spitting out a trio of sharpened teeth loosened by previous blows, Sril'rt pushed herself back to her feet, taking an akimbo stance and staring him down, practically frothing with bloodlust as she took cautious steps forwards. "To you, she's dead. Just like every other human we've stolen. Gone to the the workhalls until they drop dead. You'll never find 'em." Her words brought a grin forward, and in a single movement her foot flinched, shooting the warped blade upwards. Her hand caught it, and with that innate battle intuition she measure quickly the angles, wipping the blade at him. It whistled as it saild, flying intentionally wide of her prey, but he was not the intended target. Deftly placed, the blade carromed off a nearby stone suport, sending it back toward the rear of his ankle, at the achilles. "You'd be surprised how often people who aren't supposed to be found pop up around here," Alex said, and then, as she threw the dagger, he threw himself to the side, because he had seen something that she hadn't. The telltale scorching of a thermal vent, a rupture in the ground that let straight down to the bowels of hell themselves. As the dagger sliced a bloody streak across his ankle, just barely missing it;s intended target, Havok slammed forth a steady stream of white hot, impossibly hot concentric rings of plasma, directly at the creature that had pretended to be a woman, hopefully to knock her backwards into the vent. She grinned wide at as the streak of blood shot from his leg, already on the move, hauling her leg back into a kick that would shatter bone and beyond, but in that moment of prideful priming she caught the glint of light bearing down on her, searing at her frame. She rolled but it wasn't enough, and she shot backwards, his blast breaking through the thin crag, bathing her in a swath of the earth's own fire-hot breath. She staggered there, on the edge, catching herself on the ridge, dangling over the true abyss. the howl of it blooming in her ears; the shrieks of the damned waiting for her below. She pulled herself forward. A few more seconds was all, just a few. But then she felt it, the crumbling of flesh charred to nothingness, her grip lessening, and as another blast of white-boiling vapor engulfed her, she issued a scream at Summers before the crispness of her joints gave way, body coming loose at the shoulder, ashes to ashes. Her shouts were lost in the roar of the vent, and no sound of impact followed, no hints to her demise save for the sudden freezing of the timers. Havok ran to the edge of the vent, looking down at it. The bombs stopped ticking, and there was nothing but silence and the fading echoes of her screams, and curses. He shook his head and said, softly, "Well, what the fuck was that all about?" "Alex!" Foxx shouted when she stumbled back in, out of breath. She'd turned tail when she'd noticed he'd not followed them out. She moved towards him, shaking her head, looking from him to the chasm that still belched gray streams of superheated vapor, golden brown eyes tracking to the blood dribbling from his hand, his foot. "You alright?" She looked idly to the mounted explosives, their timers stuck in place, their detonator far beyond working range now. "Three seconds, huh?" Alex looked down at the timers and a smile crossed his lips, "Well, you know me. I do like the white knuckle dramas." Limping a little on his injured leg, he said, "Come on, I think this technically makes me king of the morlocks. Let's go check out my throne." She helped him along with a shoulder, eyeing the field, making sure everyone else had been cleared. It was time to go lay down for a few thousand years. She looked to him with a quirked brow. "Alex Summers, king of the sewer people. You've finally one-upped your brother, Al. Royalty and whathaveyou." Shewinced as the soreness already set in past the adrenaline. What. A. Day. [End] |
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2:24 PM Jul 11