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| Light 'em up (up, up, up...); BH combat thread | |
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| Topic Started: Mar 14 2015, 03:53 PM (514 Views) | |
| Mesmero | Mar 14 2015, 03:53 PM Post #1 |
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Hyper-Hypnotism
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2:13 PM, Sunday March 15th, Hanscom Air Force Base in MA See this thread for background. "Civilian personnel are not authorized in this area," the communications office receptionist announced as Vinnie and his team walked in. He got about that far before brain caught up with him, and his uncertain expression as he regarded the motley crew approaching his desk was almost funny. Of course, Vinnie himself was the motleyest of them all. Usually he'd have an image inducer for missions like this, but the one he'd been assigned back in June had gone on the fritz, so he was out here in all his green-skinned glory. The winter cap he'd taken to sporting made that less obvious from a distance, but there was no way to miss it from this close up. That was all right with Vinnie... it just served to call attention to him, and attention was exactly what he needed. "I understand," he replied as he approached the desk, his gloved hands visible, his voice soothing. "But something has come up, and I need to make a high-priority announcement to the entire base. And I need you to help me..." A week ago "Yes, hello," Vinnie greeted the bored-sounding man who answered the phone, "I'm calling about the Hanscom account?" He'd spent the morning calling bulk food suppliers in Massachusetts and confirming that they didn't supply Hanscom; simple statistics suggested his odds were improving with each such call. "I'm sorry, sir, we can only discuss that account with an authorized representative," the man replied, confirming Vinnie's faith in statistics. "Yes, I understand," he continued affably, his voice pitched low and monotonic, just a little too quiet to be easily heard... an old hypnotist's trick to force the listener to concentrate. "Account security is very important. Especially in these times, when enemies are everywhere. You perform a valuable service." It didn't really matter what he was saying, he could have just as readily recited the phone directory, and in fact he'd hypnotized audiences that way a few times. What mattered was the steady drip - drip - drip of his words, and his target's attention. That was a little harder to secure over the phone, but not enough to concern him. "I want to know when your next supply shipment there will be, and the name of the driver. Do you have access to that information?" "No." Vinnie nodded; he'd expected that. First tier phone service never knew much of anything. "All right. Here's what you're going to do," he explained to the mesmerized man. "When I tell you to, you're going to get your supervisor on this call. You will act perfectly casual, nothing is wrong, nothing to worry about, you just need them to talk to me. Then you're going to return to work and forget this conversation ever happened. Do you understand?" "Yes." "Excellent. Now go get your supervisor." It took another fifteen minutes and three jumps up the organizational chain to get the information he wanted, but that was all right. The family whose house he'd commandeered for this project had been genuinely friendly, even back when they'd had a choice in the matter, and their fridge was well-stocked. He could afford to be patient. Five days ago "There... that's better." James Delaney, the driver for Sunday's food run to Hanscom, had been belligerent at first when the green-skinned man had appeared at his door, but subsided quickly with a taste of Vinnie's power. "I'll only be here for a few minutes, and then you can return to whatever you were doing. I'm going to give you some instructions for Sunday's run to Hanscom Air Force Base, and you're going to follow them when the time comes. But until then you're going to forget all about them, and forget that I was ever here, or that we ever had this conversation. Do you understand?" Fifteen minutes ago There were two guards by the checkpoint as the driver approached; Vinnie observed them carefully through the dashcam feed on his phone. They seemed bored. Good; that meant they weren't on alert, which probably meant his mission was still quiet. The longer it stayed that way, the more satisfying the explosion would be. "That's good, Jimmy," he crooned over the audio link once they'd cleared the checkpoint. So far everything was going by the numbers; he'd been concerned that the guards might randomly decide to search the truck's contents, but they hadn't. Good. "Go ahead and park in the loading zone, like you usually do. Then we're going to get out, and you're going to forget we were ever here. Oh, and be sure to listen very carefully to any announcements coming in..." Now Vinnie had chosen the food-service truck as their way onto the base primarily because the commissary loading zone was located conveniently near his actual target, the communications center. Less chance for something to go wrong. He needn't have worried, though, nobody had challenged them except for the airmen who'd opened up the back of the truck, who by now had forgotten that Vinnie's team had ever been there, and the receptionist who was now helpfully setting up the equipment for the next phase of this mission. "Attention, all base personnel," he announced over the microphone. "This is an emergency alert announcement. This is not a drill. Please listen carefully and go directly to your commanding officer with any questions." He tapped the microphone lightly as he spoke, rhythmically, tap... tap... tap... tap... and allowed his voice to fall into a matching cadence. Exerting his ability over a one-way link like this was challenging, it was likely that most of the folks listening would resist him. On the other hand, military people were the easiest to hypnotize, in his experience; they made such a fetish out of following orders that they were half-entranced before he even got started, so maybe it would be more effective than he expected. In either case, it wouldn't take many to cause a delightful bit of havoc. "There's been an infiltration at this base," he continued. "The invaders are insidious; they look just like your friends and fellow soldiers, but they aren't. They are alien invaders, shapeshifters who have taken over those roles." He would not have used that line a few years back, since plausibility was important for an initial pitch, but given that there actually had been an invasion of alien shapeshifters not too long ago, the old cliche had taken on new life. "They're easy to detect once you know how, though. Most important of all: anyone trying to stop this broadcast, or prevent you from hearing it, is one of them. Stop them at all costs." He sat down on the edge of the desk, frowning in concentration as he imagined a giant pocket watch swinging back and forth, slowly, evenly over the base. His trainers back in Sanctuary had insisted that such visualizations were nothing more than his imagination at work and had nothing to do with his actual mutant power, but they'd also said it was basically harmless, and if it helped his focus they'd encouraged him to keep doing it. So he did. "Second, look in their eyes. You will see changes in their eye color... maybe they were blue, before, but now they're green, or the other way around." Well, they'd see changes now, anyway, once he'd planted the suggestion in their minds. "That's the giveaway. If you see that, the person in front of you is an alien invader. Deadly force is authorized; you are ordered to shoot the aliens on sight. We must reclaim this base! Good luck, and God Bless America." The sounds of gunfire were coming from the base before he'd even finished talking, and he shared a congratulatory grin with his team for a moment before getting back to business. |
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| Frenzy | Mar 16 2015, 05:23 AM Post #2 |
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Unregistered
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Ever since the attack on Sanctuary by those annoying super cops SHIELD, Joanna had been lying low. That was not an action that the Amazon was used to, not since her mercenary days when it was just her against whoever the hell the paycheck told her to go against. It felt odd to not have the Brotherhood around as a solid unit. She had grown to like many of its members and see them as family. Now they were scattered to the wind. It pissed her off every time she thought about it. But then the idea that maybe Sanctuary was better off without them would creep into her mind. It had been a long time now, but ever since Magneto's disappearance things hadn't been quite the same. That man had been a huge factor in her joining the organization in the first place. Hopefully shit would get better all around. Recently she had managed to hook up with a couple of her brethren being led by Mesmero. It was a hell of a lot better than skulking around from place to place, terrorizing this small section of a city here and there. An organized unit could get a lot done more efficiently than separately. So here she was, standing behind the green-skin mutant looking all kinds of intimidating. She like the goal here. It was pure and simple and involved something that she could do so very well. If it hadn't been for Mesmero's machinations she would have folded up the guards at the gate like human lawn chairs. Subtlety wasn't her strong suit. As he began to work his magic over the intercom Joanna looked out of the window next to her. She snerked at the direction that he took. It brought back memories of smashing in Skrull heads and breaking their bodies like twigs. Good times. It didn't take long for chaos to erupt. The weak-minded humans went at each other like rabid animals. She cracked her knuckles with a sigh. "You have fun in here with your little microphone. I'm going to go make my presence known." Grinning, the Amazon headed outside to partake in what she was built for: wanton destruction. Almost immediately one of the soldiers turned his rifle on her which did nothing but make her laugh. The bullets ricocheted off her steel skin as she approached the soldier with murderous intent. |
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| George | Mar 16 2015, 04:30 PM Post #3 |
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Elastic Body, Heightened Strength, Manipulation Of Form
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George had hopped out of the truck along with the others, his gameface on and looking stern, looking mean, looking like a really, really bad guy. As they strode around behind Mesmero (what a good friend) looking like bad asses, George experimented with curling his upper lip into a menacing snarl. Too much? He wondered and let it go; that’s the kind of thing you really need to practice in front of a mirror first or you end up looking like a dofus, he decided. How had he gotten there, some of his unusually brighter brain cells might’ve wondered; murder and mayhem weren’t really his thing. Okay, maybe the mayhem part, if he were being truly honest with himself. The answer started a few days ago, in a bar. God, all the worst things started in bars; have you noticed. Anyway… he was in a bar and feeling good, drinking up some of the money he won at the Fight Event when he met this Mesmero guy. Everything the guy said sounded reasonable – Hell, yeah, let’s go trash that government base, why the Hell not? George always found it easier to go with the flow and not struggle against the group current; when he was around good people, he did good things, and around bad people, well, he helped trash a military base and it probably wasn’t going to be pretty. If he stopped and thought, he’d feel his unease at being here; at doing this. There was a weird feeling niggling at the back of his mind, that sort of ‘did I leave the stove on?’ kind of worried feeling but something always blocked his thoughts from thinking about it. “Oh, hey, Twix,” George said as they passed a vending machine in the hall and the candy caught his eye. He curled his hand into a fist and punched through the clear plastic window. The crack of the plastic as it broke and fell to the floor echoed down the hall. George was not one for stealth. He fished out one of the chocolate covered delights from its package for himself and offered the other around to his fellow evil-doers. Mesmero, wow, how did he know those alien bastards were back? George drank in the story Mesmero spun for the soldiers, believing it too, because his good buddy Mes was saying it; and he should know, he was a big guy in the Brotherhood and had lots of connections. Before talking to Mes, George thought the Brotherhood were a bunch of freaking whackjobs, but Mes changed his mind. It was a just cause, bro. Outside the office screams and gunfire broke out. While Frenzy, who was frankly scary-intense, cracked her knuckles eagerly went off to become someone’s (or more likely a bunch of someones) bad-day (possibly their last day), George looked back at Mesmero with a blank ‘what do I do now’ face. Getting his orders, anger replaced his previously placid (bovine) expression. “I hate those aliens-guys,” he muttered and looked out a window. Soldiers were running across the base. Correction, aliens pretending to be soldiers were running across the base and fighting each other. Bastards Like with the candy machine, his fist didn’t hesitate and punched through the glass, leaving thin streaks of gooey purple blood on the jagged edges. When the window frame was mostly clear, George leapt through; his rubbery legs sending him back up immediately and around the courtyard. Luckily for George, as an erratically moving target he was more difficult to hit. Soon, a large troop transport truck rolled into the open space of the courtyard and started pouring out soldiers… more of those bastard alien-soldiers. George leapt from the side of a building to in front of the truck. His hands and fingers expanded to grab the hood and cab. Inside the cab, the driver floored the accelerator and the truck jumped forward. With a grunt, George lifted up and the wheels started to spin uselessly. The body of the truck jackknifed and the metal frame buckled. Green-clad soldiers continued to tumble from the back of the truck and George didn’t pay them much heed, not yet. The huge truck was almost more than George could handle but he managed to get it spinning, around and around with him as the center pivot point, until it was nearly jerking him off his feet and he let it go, flying end over end into a crowd of scattering alien-soldiers. “HULK SMASH!” He’d always wanted to say that. |
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| Mesmero | Mar 17 2015, 02:47 AM Post #4 |
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Hyper-Hypnotism
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"You have fun in here with your little microphone. I'm going to go make my presence known." "Sounds good," Vinnie agreed. He wasn't sure exactly what Frenzy would get herself up to, but he was confident it would cause some truly epic havoc, which was the whole point of this little operation... or, well, 95% of the point, anyway. Sure, he was hoping to restock on munitions and other supplies while he was here, the sort of thing that Costco didn't really maintain in its inventory, but mostly he wanted to keep showing the world that the Brotherhood was still out there, still capable of causing trouble, still relevant, still a force to be reckoned with. And he couldn't hope for better backup in that arena than Frenzy; she was the strongest person he'd ever seen, and her capacity for destruction was legendary. George, on the other hand... well, he was strong, Vinnie would give him that, and could absorb a pretty impressive amount of punishment, and those were valuable assets in a soldier. That stunt with the truck was impressive. But the mesmerist was beginning to wonder whether that was actually worth keeping the guy around. He'd approached the purple man when they'd both ended up at the same bar, entirely by coincidence, and established pretty quickly that he had some pretty impressive credentials as a superhuman fighter -- Vinnie had heard about the Red Square thing through the underground grapevine, though it didn't really sound like his scene -- and was probably the easiest hypnotic subject he'd ever met. And that was saying something. One thing had led to another, and he'd ended up recruiting the purple-skinned mutant to serve as his bodyguard. He'd initially intended to keep the guy close for this mission in precisely that role, but honestly after two days of having him underfoot Vinnie was about ready to blow his own head off, so sending him out to annoy other people seemed the better part of discretion, or however that saying went. I mean, Twix, George? Really? We're pulling off an epic heist against the U.S.Air Force and you want to stop for snacks?!? He didn't say anything, though; he'd learned his lesson about that already. Oh, George followed orders. He could order George to not break into candy machines, and he would refrain from breaking into candy machines. And he could order George not to crash through windows and use the freakin' door like a normal person, and he'd use the door. But what was the point? There would always be something else. The man meant well, but dear Lord he was dumber than a box of hammers. The rest of his team scattered as well, either to specific assignments or to cause more general havoc, and Vinnie returned to the microphone, repeating and reinforcing his initial instructions for the benefit of those just tuning in, until he was interrupted. "Get away from that microphone and get your hands in the air!" Oh hell, he thought, I knew there was a reason I kept a bodyguard around. He raised his hands obediently, stepped away from the mike, turned slowly, no sudden movements, to face the two soldiers who had burst in to the communications center. One of them had a bullet wound in his shoulder, bleeding pretty heavily from whate Vinnie could tell, but his grip on his rifle remained steady. The other was younger, not quite as steady as his partner, but unwounded and seemed unlikely to miss. That was all right. Vinnie didn't intend to give them a reason to shoot. Well, not at him anyway. "I'm glad you're here, officers, the situation has become extremely chaotic. I assume you already know about the blue-fisted Strudenbacker equation, but it's worse than that; when the out-marketed diesel engine gets syncopated with the outside spectra, the result will be utterly catastrophic..." He had no idea what half the words he was using even meant, he wasn't even sure they were words to begin with, but it didn't really matter; once they were making eye contact with him it didn't much matter what he said. And he'd had a bunkmate when he'd first joined the Brotherhood, a science geek who talked like that all the damned time, and he'd gotten into the habit years back of making fun of him with riffs like that. The guy had died during that volcanic craziness in Sanctuary a couple of years back, burned to a crisp... Vinnie had been able to help with the pain, but hadn't been able to help with the injuries at all... and ever since then it felt somehow appropriate to use the same kind of riff on missions like these. "Now stand over there where you can watch the door and the windows," he instructed them before returning to the microphone, "and shoot anyone who tries to hurt me." |
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| Frenzy | Mar 18 2015, 06:28 PM Post #5 |
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Unregistered
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The soldier’s legs swung back and forth as he tried desperately to escape the anaconda grip around his throat. It was a fruitless effort for the only thing it did was make his attacker grinned. With a shaky hand he retrieved his sidearm, leveled it to the alien’s face, and then pulled the trigger three times. Three pieces of flattened metal fell to the ground. He couldn’t believe it. Point blank range and all he managed to do was waste ammunition. This wasn’t happening. The alien was simply too much for him to handle on his own. As his life slowly drifted away the last thing he saw was his comrade lifeless on the ground with the alien’s boot on his neck. Neither of them had stood a chance. A few seconds later the soldier was gone. His limp body was tossed across the tarmac where it landed at the feet of a petrified pilot. As she removed her foot from the crushed neck of the soldier Joanna watched as a transport vehicle came crashing to the ground 20 feet from her position. She hadn’t seen him in action yet, so witnessing firsthand the kind of strength the purple bastard had was a little impressive. She wondered what else he was capable of accomplishing with that goopy, elastic form. Mesmero sure knew how to pick them. While she admired the handiwork of George came the sound of a vehicle rapidly approaching. Joanna turned around just in time to be plowed into by a humvee. She was dragged beneath the vehicle, its wheels running over her head and legs, and then spat out behind it. The driver slammed on the brakes. He looked back to see the damage, satisfied with the sight of a motionless alien on the pavement. Another alien kill to tuck under his belt… or so he thought. Ever since of accomplishment instantly drained as the alien began to move. Joanna groaned out of annoyance as she made it to her feet. All she could think about was the kind of hurting about to be inflicted on that piece of flatscan garbage. He had the audacity to run her over like some witless animal? That couldn’t go unpunished. She wiped the grime from her anger twisted face. Filled with pure terror the driver slapped the humvee into drive and sped away. He tried to anyhow. He didn’t make it 30 feet before Joanna was right there, running alongside the vehicle. First the driver door was ripped away. Then the driver was ripped from his seat. The unmanned vehicle continued on its merry little path. “You little shit!” Her first punch knocked his jaw loose. “You will pay for that.” The second one caved in his ribcage just enough to let him live a little longer. Every breath was excruciating, lungs filling with blood. His death could have quick, instantaneous even, but Joanna wanted him to suffer first. She grabbed the heavy door nearby while the man struggled to hold onto life. He slowly crawled, trying so pathetically to get away. But there was no getting away from her. She lifted the door above her head then brought it down right across the man’s waist. The concrete split beneath split, leaving the door stuck in place along with a few fleshy bits. Joanna sighed as some of the rage subsided. Unfortunately for the others there was still plenty to go around. |
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| George | Mar 24 2015, 03:29 AM Post #6 |
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Elastic Body, Heightened Strength, Manipulation Of Form
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Frenzy, George had first met her along with his new bestfriend, Vinnie, and to be honest she was hot… and scary, way scary. The kind of scary that could get hit by a truck and laugh it off, except that from what George could tell, she wasn’t one for laughing; she had a permanent snarl and crazy eyes that, even in his hypnotically induced state, made him edge away from her. “Ouch ouchowowowowowowowowowowowow ow,” George muttered as bullets started flying, filling the air with lead. They didn’t bounce off him like they did Frenzy; shooting him was pretty much like shooting a block of rubber, the lead passed through and thanks to his strange body was more painful than damaging. “Damn those little fuckers hurt,” George commented to himself, deciding that standing out in the open, while cool-looking-as-Hell, wasn’t too smart. Taking a page out of Toad’s playbook, he bounced around, making himself harder to hit; it also helped a lot that there was no real organized defense, Mesmero had seen to that; the soldiers distrusted each other as much as the mutants tearing through their ranks. The battlefield was ‘every man for himself,’ and one on one, no soldier stood a chance against the two mutant powerhouses. Which was why the rocket that caught George was such a surprise. He was in mid-leap across the courtyard when the rocket streaked out of the sky and exploded on impact. It had come from the helicopter flying to the bases rescue like the modern cavalry. The shrapnel cut through George like Swiss cheese (not a big deal other than hurting) and it was just dumb luck that the spurt of molten metal core arced over his back, missing him by inches. With an extreme lack of grace, George hit the ground with a few good bounces and tumble, before sliding to a start. “Ow.” |
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| Mesmero | Mar 30 2015, 07:01 PM Post #7 |
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Hyper-Hypnotism
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Two soldiers had been assigned to guard the armory this morning, but one of them was dead, a line of bullet-holes stitched across his chest by his partner, a redhead named Tommy from Medford who'd listened a little too closely to the broadcast instructions. And Tommy himself left his post when it became clear from all the shooting that aliens had overrun the base on a much larger scale than he'd initially realized, and he was needed elsewhere. So when the Brotherhood agent codenamed Pounder reached the armory, she didn't even need to overcome the guards... just rip open the door and walk in. Alarms went off, but she ignored them, as did everybody else on the base... there was far too much chaos to worry about yet another alarm. And while she didn't have the keys that would activate the forklift, she didn't need them... she just stacked the munitions crates she wanted one on top of the other and lifted them as though they were made of styrofoam. Meanwhile, Tommy was diving out of the way of a transport vehicle whose driver was clearly an alien... why else would he try to kill him, right? By the time he'd gotten to his feet, the driver was a hundred feet away and moving quickly; no real chance Tommy would hit him, though he fired off a few rounds in the direction of the retreating vehicle, in case he got lucky, before it went around the corner of a building. He double-timed after it, for lack of anything better to do. He hadn't gotten far when heard a resounding crash, and he got to the corner in time to watch the vehicle that had just barely missed him drive into a line of parked trucks. Nobody was at the wheel anymore, though; the driver was being beaten literally to a pulp by a scary-looking woman, Tommy stopped, confused -- was she an alien? She clearly wasn't exactly human, but maybe she was one of those superheroes? The broadcast had said the aliens had infiltrated the base, and she was clearly an outsider... but maybe some aliens from off-base were here for backup? He didn't know. It was all very confusing. Then he saw the communications center nearby, with the glass broken, and had a brilliant idea: he could find the guy who'd made the announcement! Surely he would explain, whoever he was. Mesmero looked up from the microphone, startled, when his two recently recruited guards fired, leaving two bulletholes in the chest of an armed redheaded soldier coming through the window. "Good work," he told them, and walked over to pick up the soldier's weapon, which he waved in the air to Frenzy and George. "Go get 'em!" he shouted. "Don't --" Whatever he was going to say was drowned out by the explosive retort of a chopper-based air-to-ground missile taking out George... though apparently not permanently, which Vinnie supposed was on balance a good thing. He backed away from the window, then on further thought decided it was time to get away from the comm center altogether. It would not take a great deal of brilliance to figure out that if the problem's epicenter was the comm station, a single missile might be enough to solve it. Which it wouldn't be... Vinnie's hypnotic suggestions would stay active even if he died... but that would do him no good whatsoever. "Time to relocate," he ordered. "Follow me; shoot anyone who threatens me," he added over his shoulder as he headed for the door. |
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| Carmilla Black | Apr 9 2015, 10:26 PM Post #8 |
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Not Viper
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Carmilla had been stationed at the base for a little over a week, getting the layout, meeting the soldiers and scientists, and generally making SHIELD’s presence known. The base’s operations were pretty impressive, and Cara was a quick study when it came to science, and enjoyed learning. It wasn’t a very large base, or even very important, being a civilian and military installation. But all the same, Carmilla’s presence there with SHIELD was noticed. Fortunately, she was the friendly, if quiet type, and kept mostly to herself when not working with the scientists located there. The crackle of the intercom wasn’t unusual, and, sitting in one of the science labs, a needle of some strange new chemical cocktail they had mixed up for her benefit poised over her arm, she really didn’t pay much attention. Listening with half an ear, she’d already pushed the plunger, making a joking comment to the man standing beside her, before noticing just how still and quiet it had gotten in the lab. Glancing up, vision dancing with specks of light from the drug she’d just injected, Cara took in the sudden blank faces around her. Finally processing what had been announced, the SHIELD agent’s dark green eyes narrowed as one of the technicians looked at her, his face suddenly murderous, even as two men began brawling. “Whoa. Whoa, you don’t want to do this…” The mutant muttered, ignoring the mild dizziness she felt as she rolled right off the table she was sitting on, the man’s fist missing her chin by inches. Landing in the crouch, she instantly hit the switch on the thick silver bracelet around her left wrist, activating it until it folded out into a heavy silver gauntlet surrounding the lower half of her arm. Wildly, the man picked up a stool and swung, and Carmilla let out a hissing curse, lunging under the chair to swing an uppercut at the man’s jaw that brought him crashing to the ground. The other two were already bleeding and half collapsed, and she ran out of the room, locking it behind her so no one else could get in or out. The base was in hysterics, she could hear gunfire and what sounded like a rocket blast. Pulling a radio off the belt of a man who’d been shot, she clicked it on. “What the HELL is happening? Regroup, there are no freaking aliens here!” A garbled curse was her reply, and she scowled, making her way out onto the base, vibrant green hair making her stand out a bit more than she would have liked. Fortunately, she was quick enough to slide around the perimeter, the gauntlet put to good use as she carefully touched person after person, sedative effects coursing through her arm. A tranquilizer gun was snagged, and she stabbed one of the darts into her own leg for juice, moving easily despite the momentary wooziness. Because there were two people out there causing all kinds of havoc, and they were both obviously mutants. Dodging fist fights, Scorpion made her way towards the wrecking ball of a woman, her gauntlet fisted as she watched the destruction. “This is the part where I offer to let you give yourself up for arrest to SHIELD willingly.” Carmilla’s voice was sharp, and she didn’t bother pulling her sidearm, or even the knife in her boot. Obviously normal weapons were pointless against this woman, and quite frankly, having seen the way the woman moved, she doubted she’d be fast enough to get a shot in. Fortunately, her toxic fist clenched and released inside the metal brace, the tips of her fingers glowing green. Balanced lightly on the balls of her feet, she flipped a charging attacker over her shoulder and out of the way, barely brushing one finger against him for him to go limp and not get back up. Not once did she stop paying attention to what was going on in the chaos around her, even as she kept a sharp eye on Frenzy. |
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| Frenzy | Apr 13 2015, 02:14 PM Post #9 |
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Unregistered
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A chopper, a gat damn attack chopper showed up to put an end to the chaos that was the Brotherhood. A single missile was let loose and unlucky George was the intended target. Joanna had been curious as to how much damage he could he could withstand with the rubber body of his. The way that he survived the shrapnel cutting through his body sated her curiosity. He could take just as much punishment as she could, but in a different way. She turned her attention to the chopper. That thing had to come down before it became a flying pain in the ass. Joanna grabbed hold of the car door that she’d used as a guillotine just moments ago. But before she could even pry it out of the concrete someone else stepped up to her, and it wasn’t one of the soldiers or civilians. It was a green haired agent of SHIELD. She turned around, brown eyes resting on the gauntlet on the woman’s arm. It looked rather impressive, probably gave her some artificial superhuman punches. Good. “Finally someone that knows what they are doing.” That was probably a stretch. SHIELD had managed to evict them from Sanctuary, but that was because they had help from the inside. Every other conflict between the two organizations had gone very differently. Joanna couldn’t recall just how many of its agents she’d stomped on over the years. Not enough. “I was starting to think you fucks had run off crying in fear.” She pried the door from its slot in the ground and began rushing right towards her. Once in range she swung the makeshift weapon horizontally in an attempt to cleave her right in half at the waist. It would be a glorious sight to behold the guts of a SHIELD agent, spilling out onto the pavement. |
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| George | Apr 22 2015, 10:26 PM Post #10 |
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Elastic Body, Heightened Strength, Manipulation Of Form
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“Ah damn,” George muttered as he lay facing the sky and waiting for his eyes to stop rattling and be able to focus again, “just let the aliens take the damn base; if they want it this bad, they can have it.” He could take the punishment, but he still felt like a dog’s chew toy. Slobbered on and full of holes. George rolled onto his thigh and looked around, taking stock of the situation. Still pretty much chaos, nothing much had changed since he’d taken his dive onto asphalt. Oh, except a woman agent going toe-to-toe with Frenzy. “That’s not going to end well for her,” George muttered and watched the action. Chick fight… sweet. The stupid, lopsided grin vanished when bullets ate-up the concrete around him. ‘Oh yeah, that damn helicopter,’ George suddenly remembered. “But… chickfight!” he called to the pilot and gestured frantically toward Frenzy and the other woman, as if to say, ‘Are you out of your mind not watching this?’. A second spray of bullets that sent him heading for cover behind the wrecked humvee, and told George that there would be no meeting of the minds to pause the fighting and watch the two women, and that sucked. Being no great thinker or strategist in combat, George broke the problem down into its simplest terms – make the helicopter crash. His fingers elongated and narrowed into spikes and he drove them through the armor plating of the closest door, pulling the door off its hinges. Using his rubberband-like arms, he sent the door flying like a strange frisby. It smashed into the windscreen, making long spidery cracks in the glass but it didn’t shatter. Instead, the door skipped off the glass and main helicopter’s spinning blades, damaging them and their delicate balance. Above the fighting, the helicopter circled around and around, before finally losing its battle with gravity and crashing, its spinning blades digging into the tarmac and sending deadly shrapnel flying in all directions. “Vinnie!” George called out. All the aliens seemed to be dead and were in the process of running off. “Hey, Vinnie!” What did they do next? |
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| Mesmero | May 16 2015, 02:13 PM Post #11 |
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Hyper-Hypnotism
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Yes, it was definitely time to relocate. Vinnie wasn't sure who the woman with the glowing hand was, but she'd identified herself as SHIELD, and after the way SHIELD had peeled Sanctuary open like a can of tuna he didn't want anything to do with them. Plus she'd obviously resisted his charms... which wasn't all that surprising, given how diffuse his hypnotic broadcast had been, but still. And she could obviously fight... she took that soldier out with just a touch, and more tellingly she was actually engaging Frenzy hand-to-hand, which either meant she was a superhuman-class fighter or deeply stupid and Vinnie wasn't prepared to bet on the latter. Besides, they'd accomplished their mission... caused some destruction, made a visible mark, gotten some munitions. The soldiers would be burying their dead for quite some time. It was time to pull out. “But... chickfight!” George called out plaintively, as though actually expecting the soldiers to stop what they were doing to watch Frenzy and the green-fingered girl go at it. Vinnie would have laughed under less frantic circumstances, or perhaps given an exasperated sigh, but as it was he didn't have the time for either. He did have to give the purple-skinned lout credit, though... he took the helicopter down single-handedly with very little wasted effort. Admittedly, he would probably have felt differently if the copter had landed near him, and he very much doubted that George had given that any thought, but whatever... it had worked, and that was really all Vinnie cared about right now. "We're pulling out," he announced over their comms. "Frenzy, take out the SHIELD agent if you can, slow her down otherwise; if you run into any serious trouble shout for backup. The rest of you, usual drill." He shouted to be heard over the sound of gunfire as his recently recruited bodyguards cleared a retreat path for him, and he ordered them into the van as he reached it... he'd send them to shoot up a hospital or something once they'd gotten on the road, tie up the response teams a bit more. The rest of the Brotherhood squad would either reconvene at the van or disperse on their own power, as they chose... in all the chaos it shouldn't be difficult to commandeer a vehicle... and the soldiers still under his spell would keep fighting for quite a while, covering their retreat. Vinnie liked it when a plan came together. Exit Vinnie, probably |
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8:53 AM Jul 11