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Light 'Em Up; Brotherhood Protest Attack
Topic Started: Jun 10 2013, 06:58 PM (791 Views)
Pyro
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Pyrokinesis/Fiery Puns
June 1st, 1 pm. Date/Time subject to change as needed.

Some people liked it, some didn't, but if there was one thing St. John had to say about all this, Spiral sure knew how to stir up a party. On one side of the field were those who thought they should listen to her, take out the heroes and champions. She had an anti-matter bomb, after all, and what would happen if they didn't listen?

Boom.

It wasn't fire, but it'd be one Hell of an explosion. St. John could appreciate that. It was driving people to madness just knowing they could explode at any given moment, wiped off the face of the Earth. So, what were the lives of a few mutants and agents compared to a city of millions?

Then there were the people who rallied and supported the other end. There were more of them, people whose resolve had not broken because of a few bomb threats. They'd been through countless attacks by terrorist and giant machines, by world-ending mutants. What was one bomb compared to all that? Maybe they didn't understand the destructive potential, but they weren't willing to sacrifice those who would defend their lives by taking theirs.

"Hehn..."

Standing on top of the rooftop of an apartment complex, St. John couldn't help but wear a grin. The Pro- and Anti-Spiral groups had collected themselves along the fringes of Mutant Town. Funny how they always seemed to come here, these humans with their little protests. It was almost convenient how the inevitable clash would break Mutant Town down and not the areas where they lived. He didn't even live here and he noticed that.

"Been a long time since I got to watch a protest break down. Hey Mellencamp, how chewy does that guy look?" St. John pulled his tinted goggles down over his face. "The humans are arguing again. How many middle fingers do you think Spiral's got up their asses over this? Who do you think will win this time? Ten bucks says it's neither."

The Acolyte gripped the levers of his flamethrowers, igniting the fuel as it siphoned out of the valves over his wrists. Orange tongues danced over the back of his hands, jumping and flexing as St. John gave them life. "Let's give them a little input, mates. They're so hung up on the Illuminati and Spiral that they're forgetting who we are. Give 'em a little reminder that the Illuminati aren't the only ones who wouldn't mind them all being dead."
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Olga gets credit for the cinders and gifness.[/align]
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Mellencamp
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Standing to his full height on fully extended digitgrade legs, Seamus Mellencamp surveyed the event below them. Even from this height his sharp eyes could pick out the ingrown hair on the Italian's neck; the blackhead on a woman's cheek...he could even smell the liquor on many people's breath. Things were coming to a head, rising to a fever pitch. The Illuminati had the world on the edge of their seats, and they were getting uncomfortable and angry in that position.

This protest today was proof positive of that fact. But in the midst of the Illuminati attacking everyone, the Brotherhood had seemingly been forgotten. Today was a reminder that they were still here, and still as dangerous as ever. He knew they were here to send a message; to make people see the truth through violence. And because of that, he could feel the "other" stirring from his slumber, whipping himself into a battle frenzy.

Not in full control of himself, Seamus began to pace back and forth on the edge of the rooftop with the unnatural ease and grace of a predator built to do just that. His steps were always steady and sure; he never faltered or got nervous. "These people are sheep. One got an idea, and the rest are here because that idea is better thought out than the one they've got simmerin' in their head and are too afraid to voice. Half don't know what they want, and the other half want nothin other than to follow along."

He stopped in his anxious back and forth when Pyro pointed out a man and asked how chewy he looked. His tongue slithered out and slid back and forth over his fangs. He did look downright scrumptious. "On a scale of 10 to 10...I'd say a 7.5. He's got a nice blend of muscle, not much fat. I bet his marrow tastes good too. With the right seas'nins, he'd make a fine meal." His other self made a decision right then.

That man was to become lunch.

At the behest of the Acolyte among them, Seamus went to the roof top entrance and ripped off the entire structure, then walked over to Pyro with it in his hands. "If'n ye'd be so kind as to give me a light." Once the structure was a blazing mass of stone, mortar, metal; he raised it over his head. Turning to look at Pyro, his eyes quickly narrowed to slits, signifying that the kind and gentle Seamus they knew was gone; now there was only the savage monster who reveled in the slaughter.

"Bet I can hit dead center and send them flyin' like wee little pests!" Roaring loudly before attack, his calling card of sorts, Seamus coiled his muscles and sent the makeshift projectile hurtling towards the ground. With a bit of ingenuity, fire, and inhuman strength, a makeshift missile was on a collision course with the crowd, and like in a movie, many of them just stared.

When it hit, a combination of factors caused a chain reaction. Several tons of stone moving with several tons of force caused a massive pressure wave from impact. And that pressure wave combined with the high intensity from Pyro's flames combined and caused the structure not to simply break, but to explode into thousands of pieces of superheated shrapnel, essentially turning into a bomb and sending a smoking fireball into the sky while sending people flying and skewering them with molten hot shards of metal and stone debris. It was time to kill.
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Scalphunter
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Preparation was always necessary, even for a mission such as this. Over the decades the weathered mercenary had learned that in this line of work there were two primary categories: jobs that were planned carefully, and jobs that were pure carnage. Today was the latter and about fucking time too. Simpler was usually more enjoyable.

Thin steel strings intertwined and bound themselves together to form a steel cable, something that was rapidly become a staple in Greycrow's arsenal. Of course it would never replace the tried, true, and literal staples, but it certainly had its uses.

The final tool finally morphed, Greycrow looped the cable around a carabiner and hooked it into the mass of tech that was his uniform. The metal snapping into place, the Scalphunter's eyes began to follow his scaled compatriot Mellencamp with interest. Cracked lips peeled into a smirk, a rare moment of expression from the usually stoic man. He could see the murderous monstrosity rise up, taking its rightful control over Mellencamp's body. Greycrow respected the man undoubtedly but since their meeting had always expressed his opinions of him; the man hid from his true form, his gift, and no manner of etiquette would make up for that. Today was a good day for Mellencamp, as in good for him.

"Sheep? Naw, you just shear sheep. For you my friend, they're cattle, good for nothing but slaughter."

While Mellencamp armed himself with... the building... Scalphunter took out a weapon in one hand and a cigar in the other. He took the opportunity to use literally use Pyro's flames the way Mellencamp had requested, puffing the Cuban deeply, preparing himself.

The man-made meteor crashed down into the mass of people below. First blood had been spilled. With a battle cry Greycrow lifted his arm, smoldering cigar in hand, and fired a wrist-mounted grappling hook into the building's ledge. The waist-mounted winch whirled as the walking cache of weaponry leaped off the building and rappelled rapidly down to the street. On the way he his gun changed as one feature became needed and another was not. All while simultaneously firing modified grenades; they were his own personal created, a fusion between fragmentation and tear gas.

Chaos had come with all its gory glory.
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Frenzy
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It was amusing how a simple bomb threat was enough to turn people into little more than savages. All it took was the words of a crazy person to stir the world into chaos. Joanna had crossed paths with Spiral once before. She did not hold fond memories of the woman. That day she had cost her a sizable check by killing the man Joanna had been after, rendering the bounty useless. Now here she was part of some Illuminati bullshit that wanted to do what exactly? Take over the world? While everyone had their eyes focused on them, the Brotherhood was left to do whatever they wanted, and today they wanted to cause chaos. Joanna had no objections to pure, unadulterated mayhem since it was something she was so damn good at causing. It was in her damn name. While three of her brothers stood out of view of the arguing crowds, she held her place among the people. One side was calling for the heads of every uniform-wearing hero while the other side figured that there was no need to kill off the very people that could save them.

She listened to the riff raff while standing hunched over in the middle of the pro-Spiral crowd covered by a hooded coat. It was mostly a bunch of worthless humans, but there were plenty of mutants among them that shared the same line of thought. Taking out SHIELD lackies and X-Men was something she had not a single issue. It would make their overall goals a lot less complicated. So did that mean that she supported what they were preaching? Not really. Looking up, she caught sight of flames being ignited. The fun was about to begin. As a guy bumped into her Joanna tossed the coat aside revealing the uniform beneath and rose to her full height, easily towering over everyone in the crowd. She grabbed the human by his scrawny neck, lifting him off the ground. A moment later something large and on fire came flying right toward the center of the gathering. Joanna grinned as she flung the man right through the passenger window of a parked vehicle on the side of the road. When the object slammed into the ground, she braced herself. Bodies flew every which way and chunks of burning concrete went flying all over. Several pieces harmlessly collided with her, but the people were not as gifted as she was.

Explosions sent more people to the grave thanks to Scalphunter’s grenades. Joanna casually strolled over to the very car that she had just put a man through. She lifted the vehicle clear over her head and launched it into the fleeing crowd. Several unlucky bastards were caught under the crushing weight of metal. Their bodies were broken and splattered against the pavement. Joanna pulled free her rather large bowie knife then sunk it deep into the heart of a woman that tried to flee the destruction. Now just how long would it take before the people that could maybe give them some competition show?
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Pyro
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Pyrokinesis/Fiery Puns
"If'n ye'd be so kind as to give me a light," Seamus asked to his side. The Acolyte sneered at the proposition and simply raised his hand. Blooming from the lip of the flamethrower, an orange rush of flame surged through the air and coated the roof entrance. Cloaked in fire, Pyro relinquished his control over it and simply let it burn, watching as the humanoid monster picked it up. Seamus' strength was more than impressive. Such a feat was easily achieved with a little flex here and there.

"We'll keep this quick. Stick around long enough to say hello to a few corpses and get out. SHIELD'll come crashing down fast with how close their helicarrier is." He could see it over the tops of the buildings, looming in the distance out over the bay. They wouldn't need but a few minutes to respond. But, that should be more than enough for their needs. "And keep an eye out for any X-ers. If Alix shows up... She's mine."

Mellencamp heaved the fractured bit of blazing building, throwing it out into the wild blue yonder. The burning concrete turned to rubble as it crashed over the humans and mutants alike. The blooming flames lit up, perhaps with a little push of St. John's own influence, reaching for the skies. Those trapped beneath it would cook soon, but those around it -- the great crowd of protestors for and against Spiral -- would enjoy the effects of burning its shrapnel.

It was then the screaming began.

Scalphunter moved, leaping off the edge of the building by grappling hook. Grenades went off, adding to the confusion. Pyro himself, however, refrained. Standing at the top of the rooftop with his allies below, their own lives would be endangered. Not that he really gave much of a crap about those, but there was something to be said about team-work and all that, even for those of a more criminal nature.

He did, however, give a little wiggle of his finger, making the fire on a man's shirt spread and gnaw at the back of his head.

It was the little things that made it all worth while.

( The rest of you can join now. )
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Sunder
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Breaks People.
Protests? pft... What good come of it? Sunder thought to himself as he worked his way around the crowded street. For a mutant his size it wasn't difficult at all to push pass all those little men and women holding up their signs in hopes of changing the unavoidable. Sunder knew better. For all his slow thinking he at least knew that nothing would change fear or hate. Especially not a bunch of people screaming and shouting at one another as they argued over who was right.

At the current moment, Sunder found himself mucking about in the Anti-Spiral side but only because his sewer exit led him here. He was definitely against all things Spiral but he wasn't too keen on joining up humans on anything just yet. Besides, he was never one to talk about Spiral's actions. He was one to act upon them. To do what was necessary to stop her at all costs. He'd done it once before. He had the scars to prove it. Along with a multitude of other scars that tell different stories.

His ragged clothing draped his large frame loosely. A miracle considered he's so large he usually had to sow rags together in order to make a proper shirt. He still looked like a bum but that was the look he was comfortable in. As a Morlock they never had nice things to begin with so he'd learn to accept whatever he could find as a necessity. Among the crowd he stuck out like a sore thumb. Tall and wide, he stood at over 7 feet, searching for a way out of this mosh pit of uselessness. A run top side had become more than the big guy bargained for but it was too late to go back. Especially since the crowd seemed to tighten closer together.

Sunder looked around to see what was going on. An argument had occurred between pro and anti agents. Fists were thrown and the riot police at hand got involved. The scuffle that followed caused the shouting to grow louder, the protesting to grow angrier. He could feel it in the air. He could smell it coming. A sense of dread that something was about to explode. Sunder removed the hood from his head, revealing his disfigured face blessed to him at birth and noticed something set ablaze on a rooftop.

His eyes squinted to get a better look and he noticed three figures before the flaming object was sent hurtling into the crowd. Sunder acted fast, pulling and yanking people away from the thrown object. A matter of seconds slowed to a standstill before the object collided into the crowd in an explosive fury. Sunder grabbed a hold of a young couple and used himself as a shield from the explosion, holding his ground as shrapnel bounced off his back, some pieces piercing his thick skin. The young couple was safe in his hands. The lucky few that still stood among the unlucky ones that were downed forever.

People laid in pieces everywhere and screams were mixed in weeps. "Go home." Sunder said to the two in his arms but as they were running away hand in hand, some kind of grenade landed at their feet. The woman turned to Sunder and reached for him, the scared look in her eyes forever emblazoned in his memory, but he was able to do nothing as he watched the couple he just saved explode into pieces. Sunder was pushed back, blood and matter spread all over his person. He gathered his bearings and looked at his clothing. The red sparked a fiery vengeance within the Morlock and a primal scream escaped his lips.

With ease he tore the sweater and shirt from off his back and began dousing off a man who was covered in flames. Sunder tried as hard as he could but nothing seemed to stop the fire from spreading. He finally stopped when the man stopped moving. The smell of burning flesh and fresh blood seeping into his nostrils. Sunder then lifted a car and watched as some crawled away, pulling others that had lost limbs that gave them that ability. Sunder was alone but he had to do something to stop this. Sunder was not exceptionally bright until it game to battle. Fighting was something he excelled at and with a flex of his muscles he searched for someone to punch. Protesting was over and the time for action had come.

A woman cried out in pain, begging for life and all she got was death for her efforts. Holding her was a tall female with a knife that came out the back of the poor girl. Sunder growled to himself before charging forward, barreling straight towards her with a vicious clothesline in mind. He noted the knife just as well as he noted her neck which he hoped to snap.
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Speed
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Superspeed
((Sorry for the delay on this))

This was Tommy's first real mission with SHIELD and it was keeping the peace in Mutant Town following Spiral's announcement of her KillYourHeroes campaign and the anti-matter bomb that she had hidden somewhere on the world should the heroes and SHIELD not be taken down. Crowds had gathered on both sides and SHIELD and the Police were stuck in the middle trying to keep the pro and anti sides of the protest from meeting in the middle. The police in riot gear were far better equipped for dealing with this sort of situation than Tommy was who had been forced to give up his usual green and silver uniform he had worn with the X-Men in favour of the black standard uniform of SHIELD which still had the same technology built into it as the other suit, it was just standardised and had the SHIELD logo sewn into it. With accompanying tinted goggles for protection of his vision from any debris in the air, Tommy maintained his position in the group of law enforcement officers who were trying to keep the peace.

But in a situation like this, all it took was one little spark and the whole place would come burning down and that little spark came in the form of the man made missile that Pyro and Mellencamp had been put together, the explosion throwing the crowds into chaos as the pressure wave and shrapnel spread through the crowds. Fortunately for Tommy he was fast enough to be able to dodge out of the way of the shrapnel and out run the blast but the sudden deterioration in the situation in mutant town meant that the number of police and SHIELD agents here right now were no where near enough to be able to contain this situation anymore. Pressing his finger to his ear as he activated the comms device. "This junior agent Shepherd, There's been an explosion at the protest in mutant town. We need as much back up as can be sent." Repeating his message as he tried to make sure it was heard over the pained screams of those whom had been injured by the weapon and those who hadn't been but who were now blaming the other side of the protest for the attack.

Breaking into a run Tommy began to zip in and out of those who were uninjured as he tried to get to those who had in fact been injured during the attacks, looking out for any other of his colleagues in the process while doing what he could to aid the injured. It was then that Tommy caught sight of the old hagged man rappelling down the side of the building firing what appeared to be grenades of some kind into the crowd. Making a beeline for him the speedster curling his fist up and back aiming a punch for the technofreaks face as he approached him.
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Captain Britain
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If you put enough fuel into a pressurised container, then added a spark, then you got an explosion. Explosions were themselves as close to absolute, primal chaos as it was possible to get. There was no controlling them, no fighting them, no stopping them once they started. They progressed, increased, and then would cease and leave behind wreckage. Destruction, panic, pain, completely innocent people could have their lives and minds turned to nothing more than cogs and springs. As Mutant Town erupted, so too did the central control of SHIELD’s helicarrier: a large-scale terrorist attack in the middle of Mutant Town, New York was another card in the unfortunate deck which had been dealt to SHIELD since spring. For nearly two months, Brian had fought things which curled their tendrils out from the dark to strike at the good and the orderly. Today would be absolutely no different. No matter who or what it was that was causing problems in Mutant Town, Brian would not allow them to hurt the people whom he considered to be a part of the same genetic fraternity. He would not allow the sole refuge of American mutants to be stained by the blackness of those who offered nothing to the world save anarchy and rotten philosophy. He had the power to stop them, he had the dedication, he had the knowledge of situations like this. And maybe, just maybe, he’d seen one too many of this sort of thing lately.

His anger gave him determination, and Brian moved through the panicked ranks of the Helicarrier with total calm, absolute assurance and confidence. His confidence and anger mingled within him and bolstered his powers further than they had been previously; his body felt like it was practically burning with energy, with desire for action. The people around him were communicating desperately, trying to get some semblance of superhuman combat on the ground. One agent had already been deployed, but he was young and untested. He called for backup. There were too many enemy agents on the ground, for all of Tommy’s speed and capability, and Brian was certain that they were considerable. What they needed was an experienced professional. Captain Britain wasn’t sure if that was what he was, but he was sure as hell willing to try his hand at being one if it meant that he got the chance to fight these bastards.

Raising his mask to cover his face, one of SHIELD’s escape hatches slowly dilated open for Brian’s exit. He had been briefed by a slender man with a shock of red hair as they had walked together, Brian’s long legs striding well ahead of the man, who was taking three steps for every one that the agent took. Fires, explosions, confusion, several superhuman antagonistic elements of unknown origin and powers but definitely heavily armed and possibly including some variety of pyrogenetic or pyrokinetic ability. Brian turned to the agent and thanked him for the briefing, giving him a small and genuine smile which the agent returned before wishing him luck, then being called away to man the surveillance cameras of an area on East 7th Street. He shut his eyes briefly, found his centre, prepared himself internally and prayed for strength, for protection, and for the ability to help those who needed him. After a wait of only seconds, Brian pushed himself from the floor of the helicarrier and zipped out of the window head-first like a kid down a waterslide.

Flying at first in a broad circle so that he could gain velocity before he began his descent proper, Brian built himself up to a speed which a passenger jet would have a hard time matching. He was like a dart, arms by his side, head down with his eyes facing forwards and his chin almost touching his chest. He opened up the radio link to the agent on the ground. “This is Captain Britain.” He said, in crisp and direct tones. “I am en route to Mutant Town, will arrive shortly.” With reflexes borne of years of practice, Brian streaked down towards the Mutant Town district, water droplets striking his face and evaporating from the shear friction as he burst through the cloud bank and already found himself almost within arm’s reach of New York’s highest skyscrapers. He blasted past them, slowing his speed slightly so that he did not risk causing damage to the environment, and pulled himself up to a complete hovering stop two hundred feet above the streets.

With superhuman speed, Brian cast his eyes across the scene in a moment of reconnaissance. He could see Agent Shepherd, and he could make out other figures on the scene too. There were SWAT and riot police already present, as well as the same antagonistic factors and targets which had been indicated to Brian from surveillance of the event as it had begun. Landing near one of the largest contingents of police officers, Brian stood tall and made sure he had their attention. “Begin evacuation along all possible routes, close down city traffic in and out of the district if you have to.” His tone beggared no argument, and none of the officers even begin to dissent. “Keep people together, don’t let anyone become a straggler. Work in teams of four with smaller groups, as four corners of a square. Try to encircle larger crowds as much as possible and keep everyone moving away from the danger zone. Those of you with SWAT training, you have your orders from Precinct.” The orders took precious seconds to deliver, but a mobilised police force working in accordance with SHIELD orders was worth infinitely more to Brian and to the crowd than confused, scared officers. Brian radiated confidence, and he could see the officers already reflecting it. Turning away from the officers, Brian began to scan and pick his targets. He went with one of the big rules of thumb for superheroes, the orchestral conductor principle: When in the middle of a fight, go for the scary guy who doesn’t seem to be doing anything.

Taking flight and spiralling in a fast, wide circle once more, Brian landed on the rooftop behind Pyro. He was a known quantity to SHIELD, but Brian did not thoroughly know all the American terrorists yet. He was more used to dealing with quirky British villains. “Listen, sparky.” He said to the seeming mastermind as he landed. “You really picked a bad day to piss me off, so let’s skip the me-offering-you-the-chance-to-surrender lark and cut straight to the part where I kick your head in?”
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Pyro
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Pyrokinesis/Fiery Puns
( Some people aren't/having posting. Don't wait for them any longer. )

St. John had not yet moved from where he was. On top of the rooftop, watching the scene unfold below, it was like watching a television show play out. The Acolyte tended to the small fires that burned. The blazing building chunks that had been thrown down by Mellencamp were like little specters for him to play with. Every now and then he touched one of the fires and made it flare up, roaring like a jet. They hissed and billowed, scattering the people around them each time.

It was a big game of mouse in a maze, really. They sought refuge from the attack, but every time they neared one of the sources of flame, he would block them off. Even the smaller ones would surge into ghoulish constructs, growing from embers into infernos. Misshapen teeth would lash out, snapping at the air, causing the humans to recoil back into the mess of a melee. Sometimes, he didn't even bother tending to them. Some people he just let go. Why? Not for any reason in particular, but surely his Brothers needed something to play with too, right?

His goggles caught the glint of the light, his typical mad grin spread across his face. Police officers were already surging in and, undoubtedly, SHIELD would be joining them soon. They were only going to be here long enough to tease the misguided, those mutants who thought serving humanity was better than dominating them. Philosophies differ, as they always did. Those who would live among the flatlines almost always had their 'you're a bad guy' thing when you didn't believe in what they did. Hell, that's what started most of this problem. Not it was an entire different animal. The Brotherhood had proven its point enough times that they began to enjoy the slaughter. It was like taking sheep to the processing plant after you named them.

He wasn't oblivious to the Captain as the man landed on the building behind him. St. John turned, grinning, sizing the agent up. "Christ. You're a big bloke," St. John sneered. "Nobody's called me Sparky since Zippo took off. She workin' with you nowadays? Can't say I'd like to get my hands on her. She owes me candy."

St. John's head canted to the side, showing a bit more teeth in his smile. "What've I done to piss you off today? Crikey, all I've done is started a few fires. You ain't gonna pull a Smokey the Bear on me. I already know I can prevent forest fires. That's why I'm starting city fires." Flames bloomed on either side of the Acolyte, licking up his arms and filling the air around him. "Being an Agent of SHIELD, you should know what I'm capable of. You're better off just leaving me alone, mate, or I might be so inclined to actually do something down there. Don't think that the whole 'your own team is down there' argument will work on me either. They know what they walked into. They've already accepted it. They always do when they're working with me."

He half-turned, stretching an arm out over the crowd. "So how about it? You n' me just sit up here and talk or you can serve the Queen and take a prisoner back to Australia like the good ol' days, after I kill everyone down there." St. John did not make idle threats. He did not become an Acolyte because he was good at lying or had the charisma of a movie star. He could turn the whole place to ashes on a whim. It was just a matter of whether or not Brian was willing to take that risk.

One criminal for a hundred or more lives.
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Frenzy
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Death and destruction was the name of the game, a game in which Joanna was a seasoned veteran. Practically all of her adult life had been spent putting foot to ass and fist to neck. She ran with a couple of crews, did her own solo thing for awhile then finally find her way to the Brotherhood, an organization that gave her existence even more purpose. Today was the kind of day that she always looked forward to. The only thing that would make it better was if she could get her hands on the goodie-two-shoes sons of bitches that turned their backs on the mutant race by siding with humans despite the way that they treated them. Traitors were the worst kind of garbage in her eyes that deserved nothing short of death. Joanna pulled the long knife from the woman’s gut and watched as the blood flowed free from the wound. Her eyes stared up at the Amazon, asking why as life quickly faded from them. It was a beautiful scene that would be witnessed many more times.

She heard his roar. Turning around, Joanna came face to face with a man standing over seven feet tall, scarred, gray skin, and a face uglier than an elephant’s ass crack. Satan’s grin was rivaled as she flipped the knife around, altering her grip. Finally, someone that was worth her time, at least she hoped. Joanna met the big bastard half way in the middle of the chaos, ducking beneath the large arm that would have taken off a normal person’s head. As the same time, she brought her knife across his abdomen while sliding past him. She turned around to face the mutant that had decided that it would be a good idea to take her on in combat. Joanna looked to her knife before slipping it back into the large sheath hanging from her hip. She wanted to break this big bastard rather than dice him to pieces. It was rare that she got to tangle with someone bigger than herself when not sparring with the Irishman. “I hope you can handle punishment I’m about to unleash on ya, Grendel.” She didn’t want him to break too easily. Where was challenge in that?

Joanna cracked her knuckles then rushed at the behemoth with deadly intentions.
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Mellencamp
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He'd simply nodded at Pyro's orders before engaging with the enemy, but for just a moment he remained on the rooftop with him so he could see the full effect of his handiwork. He grinned, his fangs glinting in the sun as the sheeple below ran about in fear, terror, and pain. He could even smell the fear; it was intoxicating, and he was about to jump from the lip of the building to the ground and have a quick snack, but something stopped him.

His senses were unparalleled, and he could pick out a hushed conversation on the street below amidst all the chaos, from his position on top of the building. So when he heard a strange whistling noise, like an object hurtling through the air at high speed, he turned his head towards the source of the sound.

It took him a bit to spot the object at the speed it was going, but soon the detail filled in and a man wearing the British flag for his uniform was what he saw. "Pyro. Might be havin' comp'ny soon; I think SHIELD sent out some extra security." He licked his fangs and snapped them in anticipation.

"Can't wait till he gets here." He backed up a bit, making himself scarce for the moment while keeping his eyes on the Captain until he landed and sparked up a conversation with Pyro. When they were finished, he walked over and stood by the Acolyte, his full height dwarfing him by an impressive margin. "I'll be honest. I assumed you were smart when I first saw ye'. Givin out orders to the boys in blue an' all that.

But what possessed you to come up here and antagonize the walkin' flamethrower with the bad temper?" If Brian knew anything about Pyro, he had to have known this was a bad idea. The deed was done now, and there was no turning back for him. He'd either just have to listen, or take his chances against not only Pyro, but the psychotic Mellencamp as well who was more than happy to tear into him and devour him whole given the chance.

"Now you've either gotta risk him incineratin' everyone down there. Or talk to him and pray he doesn't start recitin' poetry." His tail which had been slowly and lazily swinging back and forth suddenly whipped furiously and smashed through a portion of the roof's edge when a smile crossed over Seamus' face.

"Or...you could exercise a third option...hero." His tongue once again slathered over the razor sharp fangs filling his mouth, and his stomach grumbled loudly. "You can try yer hand at fightin' me. And Pyro can be the commentator." He shrugged his shoulders and looked over the edge down towards the people.

"So you've got three options. None of them are ideal for you I'll admit, but that's what it is. You have to choose, and choose wisely. Because if you don't, either we see what the ignition temperature of human flesh is...or I go down there. And I start eating people."
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Captain Britain
Unregistered

An Irishman, an Englishman and an Australian stood on a rooftop. It was a joke set up with a lot of potential, but most of it dark. As it was, this wasn’t a joke at all. It was a serious, dangerous situation, and the only punch line here was the calculations Brian was making as to the shortest possible route across the roof to punch Pyro as hard as he possibly could. He considered it. If he was a less cautious man, then it was the course of action that made the most sense, from where Brian hovered. He had good acceleration on his flight, and he was already airborne. Brian was invulnerable to fire. It hurt like hell, more than anything else, and it was impossible to quell the instinctive hatred of fire that he maintained as an organic, carbon-based life form, but so long as he focused and kept his breathing under control, Brian had survived around a dozen or so serious fires in the past, even discovering his sister was a STRIKE agent during one such event. The information SHIELD had on Pyro’s powers had hardly been gathered under lab conditions. Who knew how soon he would be able to unleash the flaming fury, whether it was an instantaneous or even reflexive process? Presuming that it was, Brian would never get there in time. It wasn’t as if Pyro had some special invulnerability to being knocked the bloody hell out.

Had he not been so cautious, so scared of hurting others, then he would have done it. He could probably have gotten across the roof before Pyro could really start anything, have him unconscious with a single blow and then start to work on the others. The problem being that word “probably”. Brian didn’t deal well with uncertainty in combat situations where there was civilian lives at stake, and this situation already had a lot of uncertainty, even amongst the different factions of ordinary mutants and humans on the ground, most of whom were already being evacuated. Not moving his eyes from Pyro, Brian tried to focus on the environment, the brief aerial overview he had gotten once he arrived. Even if Pyro did launch an attack, both himself and the other agent on the ground had superhuman speed in their mutant repertoire. Would it really be so impossible for them to kick a few fire hydrants open to douse the flames? It wasn’t worth gambling hundreds of lives on, even if Brian’s evacuation plans meant that every second they stood around talking the fewer and fewer individuals there would be for these terrorists to play games with.

The Aussie mutant was cocky and utterly psychopathic, as well as talking nonsense. Brian had no idea who Zippo was, but a second later the situation was modified considerably the addition of a big green chap. Brian remembered, suddenly, an event far below London years before with Wisdom and Betsy. Reptilian throwbacks seemed to be a popular trick for mutations to pull and there was nothing so appealing to a romantic lover of chivalric tradition like Brian as the idea that he might get to fight dragons. It made him feel like a real champion of Britain, like some glorious St George or Sir Gawain. “What can I say?” Brian replied, grinning at the enormous lizard and his sparky friend. “I guess I’m an optimist.” So saying, as if to illustrate the point, he grinned. Brian’s powers were driven by confidence. He knew that he could beat both of them, if only he thought hard enough. Maybe if he had a little back up. Where was Agent Shephard when you needed him? He might have been a kid, but someone with that speed would always be useful in a situation like this, plus he was a genuinely talented agent once he focused on the tasks at hand and not the ones six steps ahead.

Mellencamp’s speech made Brian think, but probably not in the intended manner. The giant green lizard man had a point (when was the last time that Brian had been able to use those words in that order?). He did have a third option, but it wasn’t the one that was illustrated by Mellencamp. The third option was the one that he took. Landing on the roof’s edge, he let his arms swing akimbo to his sides and smiled at the both of them as if this was all a bank holiday lark. “Two on one.” He baited them. “Hardly a fair fight.” He paused for a second. Always one for theatrics and comic timing. “Want to call one of your other friends up here to give you a fighting chance?” Why did he have to choose? He could simply stand, take his time, and let one of them decide. If Pyro launched an attack then he had removed the one impediment to Brian flying at him fast, punching him unconscious and dropping him off with the cops. If Mellencamp jumped into the crowd, Brian was close enough that he could catch him by that long tail and fling him, tails always being more of an impediment than a bonus in a combat situation so long as your opponent didn’t forget about it given that, which was always a surprisingly easy mistake when they were used to fighting four-limbed opponents. Alternately, Mellencamp could lurch into the crowd and Brian could simply hope that one of the many mutants down there had the strength to fight back and he would be back to his stalemate. It was an impasse, but this situation was no longer a win-win situation for any of the three of them.
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Riva
Unregistered

Someone should put up a sign, right over this street. It’d be the first thing people would see upon entering Mutant Town.

Welcome to Mutant Town! Riot free for X days!

She should probably write to the civic committee to have that made. And whoever’s job it is to change the number would have it made, because that number would always remain at zero.

As always, a civil protest between mutant and man began to grow nasty, posters and pickets shoved into one another’s faces as slurs peppered the air with all the grace and good taste of a shit-infused potpourri. Riva turned her back on the developments and the same wannabe revolutionaries, her attentions focused, rather, on the sidelines. Men and women standing surreptitiously on the fringe, watching, tracing their gazes to the protesters and organizers of the event… Riva knew a tail when she saw one. SHIELD had this protest already pegged, but even they couldn’t see what was coming.

The explosion literally rocked the street, the telekinetic field that always seemed to coat her the only thing that kept her on her feet. Everyone nearby fell to the ground, those closest to the epicenter crushed or shot into the air or a combination of the two. It took her mind a moment to comprehend that those were limbs she saw scattered with the asphalt, a horrible coldness running through her very core with the grim epiphany. Panic and screams followed, and suddenly that division between the evolved and the baseline, the haves and the have-nots (who got what appellation was up for debate), it disappeared in the wake of another episode of senseless violence.

It wasn’t quite the same level as it was how many years ago now, when the streets were flooded with the ashen-skinned and burning-eyed children of War, but the desperation and fear was there. It was almost infectious; the old Riva would have run the opposite way, telling herself this was not her fight. And it still wasn’t. But other things had changed, she had grown, and more importantly, she was tired of the same old bullshit.

People ran in all directions, some dragging their broken bodies as best they could, others roiling in the unspeakable agony that burning to death entailed. Giant hunks of mortar and rebar burned everywhere, the smell of melting tar and singed flesh sickening in the air as the flames wasted no time in spreading hungrily, almost sentient, across this new war zone. Riva dashed out to the center, as close to the explosion’s nexus as she could stand, already sweating in the face of this inferno. An impulsive woman by nature, Riva wasted little time in debating he next move, whipping her arms out towards the two nearest fire hydrants in her line of sight, tendrils of gold darting and surrounding the cast iron structures before ripping their caps out just as quickly. Pop-pop-pop-pop. More hydrants cracked and poured. They flew and fell harmlessly to the ground with jarring force, the telekinetic woman not worrying about finesse as columns of high-pressure water burst into the air all around the disaster area, raining down and quickly running in excess into the gutters and the street. People ran for them, dousing the fires that ate at their clothes and flesh. Water steamed as it ran over melted asphalt, but this was not Riva’s goal.

Drawing the high columns of water closer and inward, controlling the jets and merging them into one central point high above, her telekinesis gave it shape and direction. It gathered quickly, congealing into a large pool up above, suspended by glittering psychic energies. Her arms moved with the flow, and when she flung them down, so did the water. It fell in one big splash, flooding the street for a moment and sweeping some bystanders off their feet as it rolled out in every direction. Steam hissed from the smoldering wreckage, Riva wasting no time as she took to the air in a vertical leap and kept herself suspended. Her thoughts controlled her improved fire hose, targeting the clusters of fire that escaped her tidal wave. The street became waterlogged and a few bystanders sputtered, but the threat of being burned alive wasn’t so imminent.

On ground level, people continued to fight one another, the need for violent and bigotry and being an asshole clearly not assuaged yet. However, the real perpetrator of this attack couldn't be among them. That giant piece of wreckage came from above, not below, and unwilling to let the perpetrators simply get away, Riva rocketed upwards. On street level, a newly-wrecked car shifted and groaned briefly before floating into the air after the Cajun. Above the rooftops, she looked around, and it didn't take her long to find the Mexican stand-off.

"HEY!" she shouted, voice full of rage and anger. She was one Midol joke away from mass homicide. "HEY, FUCKFACE!"

One moment, she was floating there, one arm raised and holding the hefty weight of a mid-sized sedan. The next, she was swinging it downward at the three men.

"THIS IS FOR MY MOTHERFUCKIN' CAR! GRAAAHHH!"

Vengeance was a dish best served almost five years cold. Riva would have her closure. Her car would be avenged.
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Pyro
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Pyrokinesis/Fiery Puns
The regal bastard thought there was going to be an easy end to this. Pyro was more than happy to make it difficult. He already was. Proposing that he just stand there in light of the British guy's presence. Any move, and Pyro would light up the streets below. He had no qualms about setting humans on fire. They were humans. Sure, there were a few mutants among them, but what did they matter? Standing among humans, they were for evolutionary cooperation. Domination was where it was at.

That vile smirk of the Acolyte's split his face. Mellencamp returned to the rooftop, the reptilian beasty with a funny voice lumbering back. Maybe this guy was meant to be Mellencamp's quarry. Big ol' brutes like that were meant to tussle far more than the likes of Pyro and him. After all, it didn't sound all that fair to have one person cooking on the inside of a construct. Mellencamp advocated that, too, offering to bring his claws to the SHIELD agent's fist. But, the English agent responded with bold confidence. That was enough to make Pyro laugh.

"That's what I like to hear! A fuckin' dumbass willing to throw himself to his death! Keeps things chipper, don't you think?" The fires around him sparked up, misshapen creatures lurking in their ephemeral spikes. Flames rolled up his arms and up his shoulders, cloaking him in the element. A few tongues lashed out, pensive sparks that danced down to the rooftop he stood on as he mulled over the situation before him. There was no way that Brian was going to get out of this untouched, let alone victoriously.

The sound of rending metal and concrete drew his attention. St. John glanced over his shoulder, watching as fire hydrants suddenly began shooting up like geysers. They broke, their contents spilling into the air, some even reaching level with the Acolyte up on the rooftop. Pyro made a face, searching the crowd as the water rained. People ran for them, squelching the fires and snuffing out all that Pyro had left untouched. Steam rose in pockets.

Pyro did little to convince the flames to stick around. Despite the elemental advantage that water had over his fires, there were ways of keeping them alive if he really wanted.

"Well that's bloody inconvenient," he said with a frown as it was all drowned away. "Looks like I've got to start burning everything! Godzilla, he's all yo--"

"HEY!" A voice drew his attentions, coming from above. Blotting out the sun came a figure and something big and probably broken holding. It would take too long for his eyes to adjust against the Sun, even with his welding glasses to shield them. He had a feeling he knew what was coming. Pyro didn't have time to respond as she roared again, the fires around him exploding in one direction. It pushed against his body as the sedan came down over the three on the roof.

The improvised rocket sent St. John against the edge of the rooftop hard, concrete and metal shattering everywhere from the impact of the vehicle, cracks spider-webbing out from the epicenter. Fighting off the pain from blasting himself into the roof's railing, St. John growled and raised his hand, throwing a torrent of flame at the sedan as he pushed himself up from the railing. No matter how wet or how soaked it was, the fires burned with such an intensity that whatever ignition source was within it was going to detonate. Whether it did or not was up to whomever wanted to get into the fire's way.

Falling over the edge and into the alley below, the Acolyte disappeared, the bottom of his boots the last thing those on the rooftop would see of him.

The space between the buildings began to glow a vibrant orange hue and a moment later, a massive, reptilian head raised up from between the buildings. A body followed, great wings folded as white-hot claws clung to the opposing structure. The sound of jet engines turning on began to seep from between the draconic construct's teeth. It began to climb higher, its entire length finishing in a lashing, blazing tail. The building it clambered up began to catch aflame, beyond the reaches of the hydrant-geysers below. They were a natural flame set to blaze from contact with the immense construct that burned like an earthly Sun.

Holding on to a solidified fire spike that jutted up from the base of the dragon's neck, Pyro clung, holding himself close to his creation as he looked over his shoulder to the rooftop he had just been on.

Climbing up a few more floors, the rider gave a laugh. "I'm going to give this city a reason to remember it's at war with more than just the Illuminati! TO THE SKIES!" By the Acolyte's order, the dragon pushed at the building, unfurling its great wings. Beating at the air, thermal currents pushed out from the direction of the movement, and the dragon took to wing. It swept out over the avenue, tail swinging over the top of the geysers with a loud sizzle as it began to ascend.
[align=center]Posted Image
Olga gets credit for the cinders and gifness.[/align]
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