Pyropus, The Pulp-And-Bronze Superhero Game

[TruorTupnm]

All of you being familiar with MI6 and approached by someone who proves that he's with them, you end up being escorted to one of the fancier restaurants in downtown London. As you drive up in the middle of the busiest portion of the evening, you are tantalized by the wonderful smells, but you get led up to the employee entrance and taken into what looks to be a small break room. Inside, you see an obese and sickly-looking man sitting at a cheap table, shoveling hors d'oeuvres into his face and glancing impatiently at the door, every now and then. Before you can ask what kind of secret briefing room this is supposed to be, the fat man sighs, then heaves himself up. He brushes past you, grumbling something about all of this trouble, and closes the door behind you. He quickly opens it again to reveal a much larger room than the one you originally came through. Your contact assures you that it is safe and ushers you inside. The fat man mumbles that he'll be back in a bit and closes the door again.

The room is large and dark, looking like a warehouse or an old bomb shelter, complete with shelves, boxes, and crates, all labeled in some alien language. Your fellow party members are seated at a table covered in maps and files being passed around. Their contacts, all in formal evening wear but with the bearing of agents, are standing behind them, looking are prepared to be bodyguards or assassins. Yours indicates a crate to sit on, then takes his place behind you. In the dim lighting, you can't make out the details of your companions or the man at the head of the table who stands as you enter. Some of you might recognize the agent as a guy surprisingly young for his position, and still not too cynical, yet. "Welcome, gentlemen - and Captain Jackson. Read quickly. We need to keep this short, as you have a plane to catch. Now, while some of you might not agree with all of our policies, the safety of the world is at stake, at present, so try not to allow that to keep you from doing your jobs - and keep this confidential, of course."

One trepidation-laden sigh later, "We have just confirmed that Pyropus and The Weaver are still alive and have been working in Uzbekistan for some time. Those of you that know those names will agree that, as long as they are free, anyone with a good-sized bank account can become a new world power. For those of you that don't, might I suggest that you stop living under your rock and read these files, while you have the time?" He gestures at the files that you'd have to hold up to your nose to read. "At the moment, we can confirm the existence of three labs that are churning out super soldiers like mad. Security has been tight, until now. Excuses can be made later. Suffice it to say, if our agents in Uzbekistan aren't already dead, I expect them to impress with what help they can bring to hand. If you happen to see any, kindly remind them them that there are worse places to be stationed than Uzbekistan. That should pry some use out of them!"

File on Pyropus, filled with stuff that most would not have known but could have probably guessed --->

Name: Pyropus

Powers: He's just a super genius that specializes in analyzing superheroes, ripping their powers out by the roots, and giving them to his patented E-Z Bake clones.

Limitations: Besides just not having any superpowers, he is just a small, weak, cowardly, and obsessive type of dude.

Looks: Short, thin, and weak, greasy, long, and black hair, darting, suspicious, and envious eyes. A white lab coat? A remote control that destroys all of the information in all of his computers, since that's what he figures that anyone would be after him for. A bar of chocolate and a stun gun, both about the same size and weight, so he might mix them up. *insert rolling eyed dude*

Personality: Half mad. Crazy egotistical. Cares only for research, so he is pretty much always in a lab or at a computer. Ofttimes forgets to eat or sleep, offers his services to the highest bidder, or, more recently, due to being obsessed with more dangerous and illegal sorts of experiments, the safest and highest bidder. He only has a stubborn and simmering jealousy towards most superly-powered sorts, these days. He cares little for what happens to his patients or how they are used. Scatter-brained towards things that aren't a current subject of research or directly in front of him, he will sometimes wonder what happened to old research subjects, or why he's on the run from the U. S. and U. K. When he remembers most things about his past, he starts shouting about how they'll all pay for getting in his way and how he doesn't care who tries to keep him from his calling. Trusts no one except Warper, and, arrogantly, any of his finished products. Is particularly obsessed with unlocking Warper's powers.

Backstory: Born to a lower middle class family in the suburbs of an unimportantly small city, he was far from most important things and had no reason to be pushed towards greatness. Nevertheless, he sneered at his family's lack of ambition and pressed himself to become the best at whatever he set his brains toward. He never had a beef with any superheroes, he was just interested in analyzing their powers, using them as resources. He was innocently surprised whenever he mentioned his goals and people were offended, so he shrugged his shoulders and stuck to learning the fields required, while attempting to find a superhero willing to help with research. He started getting more and more frustrated when any that he could get close to were disgusted by his ideas, which is when some evil dudes heard about him and acquired some superheroes for him to experiment on. He suspected that they were evil, but he was too eager to refrain from finally being able to apply some theories. He learned plenty, but the heroes, merely seeing him as just another adversary, antagonized him a bit too much. It took a few heroes and a bunch of pressure from his employers wanting results, but he finally snapped, accepted that he must be all kinds of evil to do such things, and tapped into all kinds of superly awesome methods of forcing powers out, brainwashing, and duplicating powers in clones. The evil dudes that he had been working for weren't able to use his creations for much before they got shut down by some hero or another. He got away, acting as if he had been forced into it, but he rather inexpertedly ran around, looking for another employer. The C. I. A. saw this, gathered him up, and attempted to steer him towards less evil methods of research and development. He worked for them for a while but, although he learned a lot, he always felt hampered and eagerly ran away, when some more powerful organization offered more leeway. He became all kinds of infamous while working for the now-mostly desolate as well as former Cuban Empire, which is when he perfected a very streamlined factory of brainwashed superly-powered dudes. It took a lot of heroes to stop this growing army, but he escaped with Warper and disappeared for a while. Most suspected that he died or was just too scared to pop back up again, but, after a few years of being unsuccessful at unlocking Warper's powers, he offered his services to Uzbekistan, wanting to keep a low profile at first, then striking back at all of his enemies.

Power: 1, due to never caring about it
Intellect: 6, due to being the best at his craft
Will: 4, due to stubbornly sticking to his plans, even though he knows that he's harming himself
Reaction: 1, due to being too focused on one thing

The file on Warper would give you something to the effect of this, which most should already know, due to the guy being some kind of superly famous hero of superheroes --->

Name: Louis Ronald Reynolds

Alias: Warper, The Malleable Man

Powers: He messes with reality. He can change the strength of things, or bend them in some way. He mostly uses this to make himself invincible, make shields of just air, make the ground sag under people's weights to slow them down, turn a building's foundations to jelly, or other tricks like that. He could also use it to bend space to teleport a bit. Most uses of his powers are accompanied by shrieks of pain from reality, which serve to make plenty of people wonder how safe it is to even be around this guy.

Limitations: It's harder for him to affect very much or teleport very far. What he messes with stays that way until he changes it or restores it. He can't mess with anything alive, except himself. He is quite concerned about the shrieks from reality, but most people tell him that his powers are too useful to stop using, so he shrugs his shoulders and wonders. He loves to please and always wants to stop to help people in need.

Looks: On the tall side, lean and muscular, short as well as dark brown hair, blue eyes, and a ready smile. He wears a blue and white costume that covers everything. The bits covering his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears are too thin to get in his way, but he ofttimes makes his entire suit invincible, anyway, instead of his body, since that makes him queasy. He always keeps the parts of his suit that cover his favorite body parts invincible.

Personality: As was mentioned, he loves to please and always stops to help people in need. He defends himself by saying that he is not a complete idiot, since he usually remembers to ask people if they are lying, first. He sees himself as a freak that has been incredibly lucky. People should be studying him in a lab somewhere, or more should be yelling at him to stop possibly destroying reality, but most seem to appreciate him, so he tries to live up to their expectations by being selfless and honest and disgusting things like that.

Backstory: Born in a small town in the middle of nowhere, he was around seven or eight while attempting to dig a hole to China. It was hot, and he was too tired to walk all the way back inside before taking a nap in his hole. When he woke up, he was plenty eager to tell his mother about the dream he'd had about swimming through the earth to get to China, but of course, he had actually taken himself there. He was found, and people were trying to figure out who his parents were and where he came from, but most people were more focused on the shrieks they'd heard as he was getting closer. They didn't connect them to him, though, and he ended up crying for his mother someplace, eventually falling asleep, and dreaming himself back home. His parents wondered if he had anything to do with the shrieks they had heard, since they had heard something about similar shrieks being reported in China and saw no reason not to believe his story. He grew up with them preaching the old Spiderman slash Superman type of moral codes and had all kinds of fun with becoming a superhero just to please people. He became a huge celebrity and tried to be everywhere at once, even though most people are terrified by the sounds of his arrival. Via having no manager and being an idiot, he hardly ever had any money, and, at one point when he wasn't occupied with something else, he was coerced into writing a farewell letter to the world, so that he could run away to save his parents from the evil scientist who later brainwashed him. He hasn't been seen since he was brainwashed. Plenty believe that he and Pyropus killed each other, and that's why they haven't been seen in so long.

Power: 5, due to reality-bending powers and a lot of experience with brawling
Intellect: 2, due to not being a complete idiot
Will: 1, due to being way too naive, though
Reaction: 4, due to being quite used to fighting twenty-seven thousand bad guys at once. Oh, man. Did you catch the latest TV movie about his life? It was pretty sweet.

After harumphing himself out of a concerned glare for lost agents, he resumes his former officious one and starts pointing out locations on a map. "Your targets will be these three labs. Pyropus, if he hasn't changed since we've seen him last, is rarely seen outside of one. Destroy the labs and any intel you come across. We'd like to take Pyropus and Warper in, if possible, but we realize that they won't make it easy on you, so let me worry about that, when it happens. The Uzbekistan army is protecting him at the behest of their leaders, but resentment of the clones is high. Try not to make yourself a nuisance to them, and they'll likely look the other way, we suspect." He then indicates each of you, in turn. "Captain Jackson will be your commander, for this mission. Don't underestimate her, and remember that she is authorized to shoot you for insubordination. Templar is much older than he looks and will serve as her advisor. He and The Dragon will be your front lines. The Dragon will be your scout, primarily. He should be too out of his element in Uzbekistan to take a break robbing a bank, but keep an eye on him, all the same. Baron Baptiste will be your supernatural support. Follow your prescriptions, this time. You wouldn't want to make us neutralize you so far from home. And hopefully, Flare, your main artillery, will not be needed too often."

As he's going into details of what powers are known to have been used by Pyropus in his cloning and what unsophisticated cyborg technology the Uzbekistan army has, the door opens, and the fat man tries to stick his head in, but he apparently meets some invisible barrier and grunts. The officer stands up and begins shaking your hands and nodding to the men behind you to start ushering you out again. "That'll be your flight. Take the files. I apologize for the light in here. We'll tell you how to get in touch with our agents, when you're close enough. Good luck!"

He heads back to the table, you are led into the break room, and the fat man grins and offers you an hors d'oeuvre. "Try one of those! Much better than anything that I can get in my home dimension! I heard that one of you is from another dimension, too. Well, while you are off spanking this scientist that I'm not supposed to know about, I will be trying to find it for you." He checks the clock on the wall. "Okay, now, I am going to open this door and take you to your plane. It should be almost to your drop site. Have fun out there!"

He opens the door again, revealing the inside of a plane and one nervous-looking agent that hurriedly waves you inside. The fat man shakes your hand, slaps you on the shoulder, and closes the door, which, from this side, will open out into a ten thousand foot drop. As you seat yourself, the agent shakes his head and breathes, "Boy, do I hate it when he does that!" As he heads over to make sure that that door is securely closed, "So, who here has never jumped out of a plane before?" Before anyone can answer, the pilot calls back, "The supers are in? Cutting it kind of close, aren't they? Well, get them settled and ready to drop in ten." The agent, looking much calmer after checking the door, smiles and indicates a pile of gear. "Best get ready, then."

[Raz_Fox]

Welcome to the Pentagon, folks. Not many supers get to walk the halls as freely as you all are this afternoon. Of course, that's probably because you're with Simmons and Redgrave. They have badges. Rather official badges, with official lettering and everything. Some of you were contacted up to a week ago about a rather touchy problem that the CIA had. Some just got the memo this morning. So, to ensure that all of you are up to date, you're heading to Room "C-15b" for a more formal briefing.

C-15b ends up being a rather dark, spartan room with a long table and twelve chairs. There's a rather out-of-place whiteboard on one end of the room, with detailed diagrams and a map of Uzbekistan drawn in black marker. Two of the special agents standing there merely nod as you enter the room, but the third - the one standing by the whiteboard, with a bunch of files tucked under his arm - smiles thinly. "Good afternoon, gentlemen. And Miss Albright, of course. Take a seat, if you don't mind."

Once you are all seated, he clears his throat with that special bureaucratic cough that says he's just doing it to ensure he has your attention. "As some of you may already know, 'Doctor' Pyropus was a madman whose unethical practices and inhumane experiments on differently-powered individuals forced him to flee this country. He ran through half-a-dozen countries, claiming he was close to finding the secret of why 'superpowers' existed - and vivisecting as many as two dozen differently-powered individuals in the name of science. We believed - and hoped - that he had died during the Constantinople Incident."

He points at the map of Uzbekistan now, his forehead furrowed with concern. "However, recent intelligence has proved us wrong. Our agents in the Soviet states have reported large numbers of differently-powered individuals under the apparent control of the boys in red. We believe that the communists are either attempting to breed their own 'superheroes' or that they are collecting all Soviet-born 'superheroes' in Uzbekistan. But this picture-" He sets the file down, and pulls out several photographs, handing them to Simmons. "Indicates that Pyropus is alive, and that he is under the Soviet payroll in coordination with this project. This is not acceptable. Imagine a Soviet army, marching to overthrow the free west, with powers people such as you possess."

He pauses again to clear his throat, before continuing. "We cannot, however, send our own men to extract Pyropus and shut down whatever project is going on in Uzbekistan without causing a severe diplomatic incident. In short, our options were either letting the communists win, causing a nuclear war - or sending in a small team, officially unaffiliated with the government. That's where you five come in."

The agent passes the files around the table, while still speaking. "Your mission is to get in there and remove Pyropus at any cost. If you can, shut down the project that the Soviets are working on; ensuring that all data the Soviets have obtained from Pyropus is destroyed is optimal, as well."

File on Pyropus, filled with stuff that most would not have known but could have probably guessed --->

Name: Pyropus

Powers: He's just a super genius that specializes in analyzing superheroes, ripping their powers out by the roots, and giving them to his patented E-Z Bake clones.

Limitations: Besides just not having any superpowers, he is just a small, weak, cowardly, and obsessive type of dude.

Looks: Short, thin, and weak, greasy, long, and black hair, darting, suspicious, and envious eyes. A white lab coat? A remote control that destroys all of the information in all of his computers, since that's what he figures that anyone would be after him for. A bar of chocolate and a stun gun, both about the same size and weight, so he might mix them up. *insert rolling eyed dude*

Personality: Half mad. Crazy egotistical. Cares only for research, so he is pretty much always in a lab or at a computer. Ofttimes forgets to eat or sleep, offers his services to the highest bidder, or, more recently, due to being obsessed with more dangerous and illegal sorts of experiments, the safest and highest bidder. He only has a stubborn and simmering jealousy towards most superly-powered sorts, these days. He cares little for what happens to his patients or how they are used. Scatter-brained towards things that aren't a current subject of research or directly in front of him, he will sometimes wonder what happened to old research subjects, or why he's on the run from the U. S. and U. K. When he remembers most things about his past, he starts shouting about how they'll all pay for getting in his way and how he doesn't care who tries to keep him from his calling. Trusts no one except Warper, and, arrogantly, any of his finished products. Is particularly obsessed with unlocking Warper's powers.

Backstory: Born to a lower middle class family in the suburbs of an unimportantly small city, he was far from most important things and had no reason to be pushed towards greatness. Nevertheless, he sneered at his family's lack of ambition and pressed himself to become the best at whatever he set his brains toward. He never had a beef with any superheroes, he was just interested in analyzing their powers, using them as resources. He was innocently surprised whenever he mentioned his goals and people were offended, so he shrugged his shoulders and stuck to learning the fields required, while attempting to find a superhero willing to help with research. He started getting more and more frustrated when any that he could get close to were disgusted by his ideas, which is when some evil dudes heard about him and acquired some superheroes for him to experiment on. He suspected that they were evil, but he was too eager to refrain from finally being able to apply some theories. He learned plenty, but the heroes, merely seeing him as just another adversary, antagonized him a bit too much. It took a few heroes and a bunch of pressure from his employers wanting results, but he finally snapped, accepted that he must be all kinds of evil to do such things, and tapped into all kinds of superly awesome methods of forcing powers out, brainwashing, and duplicating powers in clones. The evil dudes that he had been working for weren't able to use his creations for much before they got shut down by some hero or another. He got away, acting as if he had been forced into it, but he rather inexpertedly ran around, looking for another employer. The C. I. A. saw this, gathered him up, and attempted to steer him towards less evil methods of research and development. He worked for them for a while but, although he learned a lot, he always felt hampered and eagerly ran away, when some more powerful organization offered more leeway. He became all kinds of infamous while working for the now-mostly desolate as well as former Cuban Empire, which is when he perfected a very streamlined factory of brainwashed superly-powered dudes. It took a lot of heroes to stop this growing army, but he escaped with Warper and disappeared for a while. Most suspected that he died or was just too scared to pop back up again, but, after a few years of being unsuccessful at unlocking Warper's powers, he offered his services to Uzbekistan, wanting to keep a low profile at first, then striking back at all of his enemies.

Power: 1, due to never caring about it
Intellect: 6, due to being the best at his craft
Will: 4, due to stubbornly sticking to his plans, even though he knows that he's harming himself
Reaction: 1, due to being too focused on one thing

"Mr. Redgrave here will be leading the mission, but we're also sending Special Agent Simmons to be 'our man on the ground', as it were. The rest of you have been selected for your special talents, but you are to follow their orders. Mr. Laraway is your close-combat specialist, while Mr. 'Reasonable'-" Here, he actually makes little finger quotes, "Is your personal relations expert, if you will. He certainly is a most persuasive man. Lastly, Miss Albright is your technology expert, who is to be kept safe and out of harms way if at all possible. We don't typically let children join such missions, but she is a special case, as you will find."

"Gentlemen, your flight leaves at 2:00 PM. You may browse the files we have on Pyropus and the three main 'camps'. Unfortunately, we were unable to acquire as much information as we would like. Be aware that Pyropus has at least two overtly-powered bodyguards, according to one of our agents in the field. We currently have four agents in the neighborhood, but I'm afraid only one's still confirmed. His probable location's in the files."

He starts to leave the room, leaving only the two agents by the door to escort you to your flight. As he gets to the door, he stops and half-turns. "Good luck, and may God be with you." Then he's gone.

[Raz_Fox]

When you get down to it, things aren't too different over here. There's always madmen who decide that the laws of reality are more like guidelines. Lucky me, I get to take another one down. I've taken worse jobs, but this one didn't look too good either.

I looked through the files as the boss talked, memorizing the details. Pyropus the psycho, Warper the fallen hero, mutants and enemy soldiers. And what a ragged crew I had this time. One too scrawny to be useful - what kind of boy calls himself "Dragon", anyway? - and one that looked rather queer indeed. Probably wasn't even a real baron. Flare and Templar, though, looked more competent, at least at first glance. Only time would tell if I was right about them.

I thanked the boss as I got up to leave with the crew, a slight grin and a quiet word as I turned away. Time for action. I perked my ears as the fat contact off-handedly mentioned - what? From another world? I opened my mouth to speak, but he was already opening the door to the plane. I shrugged my shoulders and walked past him. I can still thank him later, when I return.

As I took my seat, I looked around at my crew. Not the best I'd ever had, but I could always work with broken parts. "Any of you ever been to this Uzbekistan before?"

[Falconer]

Agent Alexander Redgrave, aka The Shadow Man

Redgrave hadn't said a word since the group had entered the Pentagon. There wasn't much that differentiated him from all the other employees there. He had the same suit, along with the same expression of mild disinterest. The only thing that really set him apart was his unusual height-he was almost a head taller than most other people. And his eyes, which had an odd sort of gleam in them.

Redgrave gave a polite nod as the agent left the room. As soon as the agent closed the door behind him, his expression changed from bland neutrality to a friendly smile.

"Thought he'd never leave." He joked. His accent was clearly British, though the exact origin was hard to place. "Well, as my superior has already stated, I am Agent Redgrave, and I'll be leading this operation along with Agent Simmons here. Our flight leaves at two o'clock, which gives us..." he pauses as he looks at his watch, "...approximately ten minutes until we're supposed to leave for the airport, am I right?"

One of the two escorting agents looks at his own watch.

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. Now where was I? Ah, yes. Now, here's something I want to ask all of you. Yes, you too, Agent Simmons. I've done my fair share of sojourns in the Soviet Union, and I want to warn you of something: this is going to be dangerous. Very dangerous. Spy work is a very nasty business. This isn't like on television, with the flashy cars, gunfights, saving beautiful ladies, and things blowing up.

Well, actually, things do blow up. Sometimes. But what I'm trying to say is that when we're inserted into the Union, if we even get that far, we're going to be standing out no matter how well things go. And superpowers, while useful, aren't going to help us blend in. Especially if your powers are on the...flashier side. Don't use them unless it's absolutely necessary.

That said, I have the utmost confidence in all of you. Supers are the last thing the Reds are going to be expecting, and Pyropus, I'm given to understand, feels that we've all but given up on finding him. We have the element of surprise, as it were. We finally have a good shot, and we will take it. And we will succeed.

For King and Country, and all that.

[Arq Kujos]

"Sir, if I do say so, you might be in the wrong country." Simmons stood up and adjusted his tie. His suit was nice, but it was slightly wrinkled from hanging in a closet for more than a year. Simmons smiled at his superior in the "I'm just joking but I'm still serious manner" way. "I've read part of your file and I must say, I was surprised her majesty let you come across the pond to play."

Finished with Redgrave for the moment, Simmons turned and smirked at the rest of the team and rubbed his rough, unshaven chin. It seemed to have a permanent 5 O'clock shadow on it. "I've fought these kinds of shadow wars for as long as I've worked here. Now, it is my job to make sure you stay alive out there once super charged bolts of plasma and lightning bolts and God knows what else starts flying. As my British colleague so eloquently put it, things will go boom. Well, if we do our jobs right, they will." He gave a tug on his collar and smiled. "I hate these monkey suits." He said it as if no one was in the room with him, tugging on his tie this time. "So, what little DO we know about his compound and his little copy and paste super soldiers?"

[Falconer]

"Regrettably, Agent Simmons, I myself don't know much about what's going to be waiting for us in Russia. Or at least, I don't yet." He holds up one of the myriad folders on the table. "I imagine there's more detail in these. But if I had to say something off the top of my head, I'd imagine it's going to be rather like the situation in Cuba a few years ago. As I understand it, he'd managed to assemble a sort of factory system, with super-soldiers rolling out like an assembly line. Not pretty."

[Arq Kujos]

"Great, that is just what we need. Another manic pumping out superpowered madmen like pies from a giant oven." Simmons took one of the files and flipped through it quickly. He stopped at the map in the file, and looked over it carefully. "God, this country looks more barren than Nebraska in the winter. I hope this isn't going to be like that time in Mexico." Simmons rubbed his chin as he balanced the folder he was holding in one hand. Finally, he dropped the file back on the table and frowned. Well, if supers are involved, then it going to get messy. As much as I thrive in it, I hate messy. I hope they pack enough C-4 this time." Simmons reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a small, silver flask. He unscrewed it and drank its contents rather greedily. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and then rescrewed the cap. "Aww, now that is good. Can I offer anyone a drink?" He scanned the table for a moment before remembering that a child was present. "Maybe not then." He placed the flask back in his coat and then glanced at his watch. The time to leave was quickly approaching. "Are we going to try to blend in with the locals, or can I go ahead and grab my combat suit and my guns?"

[TruorTupnm]

Trey hated this. These people always knew where to find him, no matter how deep the cesspit he waded in was. He perked up at the smells of the restaurant, but he knew that he wouldn't be given a meal there, or they'd've put him in a monkey suit. In whatever warehouse the briefing room was in, he mostly shuffled his feet and skimmed the files, looking for reasons that he couldn't possibly be useful for this mission. He couldn't come up with anything that these people had considered before, though, so he kept his peace.

On their way back out, he hoped that the briefing's length wasn't so short just because it took them so long to find him. Killed in Uzbekistan because I was hiding from people...trying to send me to Uzbekistan? Wait. I should just fly out of here! he thought, while fingering the large green scale on his necklace. He shouldered past the agent in front of him, but the small break room was filled with his fellow supers and their contacts.

He couldn't get out of there. The fat man offered him an hors d'oeuvre, which distracted him long enough to snarf it down and grin foolishly, hoping for more, but he was fairly pushed into the plane and confronted with another agent, who wanted him to shoulder some giant pack of equipment. He peered out of the nearest window, hoping for a city that he could just get a flight out of, but all he saw were mountains.

Desperately and not intentionally out loud ---> "Wait. They didn't even give me any money?!" The agent standing in the middle of the plane quirked a skeptical eyebrow as the wirey little super darted about. Trey's eyes lit up when he happened upon the idea that maybe they just put the money in with their equipment, which he shuffled over to secure. He made sure to keep the straps loose, in case he needed to transform.

Thinking that he had a decent plan ready, he started to relax and registered that one of his companions had asked a question. He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow as he sized them up. Captain Jackson, the guy had said. Don't underestimate her, he said. Why not? Ah, well, who knows what these supers are capable of? I need to find out if her bullets would get through my scales. Templar definitely looks like one to avoid. Ugh. Looks like he'd follow you down a few alleys if you just looked at him wrong! And this Flare guy is supposed to be the main artillery? Oh, right. Don't underestimate supers. He looks like an easy mark, to me. We'll see. This Baron whoever guy looks like he's off his rocker. Didn't the man say that he needed to keep on his meds or something? Great. I need to ditch these guys as soon as I can!

While fastening harnesses and such, he flashed a quick grin at Cap'n Cal. "Ha! Yeah, right! I don't know thing one about the place." A bit more seriously, "You?" Towards the agent, suspiciously, "Hey, why didn't the door guy just take one of your sneaky stalkery guys after this mad scientist?"

[smoketroll]

Leon disliked this immensely. First, he was wearing the Baron's costume and pulling it off rather poorly. He looked like someone dressed up for Halloween. Skull makeup that should look frightening merely looks silly on Leon. Second, he was surrounded by superhumans and government agents. Third, he was craving a fix like mad.

"It is g-g-good to m-m-meet you all. However, I g-g-got to leave now. I d-d-doubt you'll see m-m-me for a while."

He reaches into a belt pouch and removes an orange prescription bottle. He dry swallows a single blue pill and a change seems to come over him. His costume still looks ridiculous, of course. However, it now seems more absurd than funny. Less like someone dressed up for Halloween; more like an escaped lunatic.

"Charmed to meet you all. I am, of course, the Baron Baptiste." He stands up and takes a bow. His accent seems to waver on random syllables. It is not quite noble and it is not quite mundane. This quality, along with his exaggerated body language, seems to produce an aura of artfulness around him. He almost resembles a bad actor attempting to steal the show.

He seems to talk for its own sake, rather than to necessarily reveal information. "This Pyropus fellow... a scientist. How dull. Interesting moral history however. But yet, the rogue superhero. Brainwashed. I have some experience with that sort... but never a being like that. And certainly not someone controlled by the artless magic of science. Ah... I do believe this new pills have a weak sedative in them, to counteract certain aspects of myself, perhaps? Very well. I assume that the high strength stimulants should counteract this when I need them to." He silently lights a cigarette as he stares at the others.

This one. Long coat. Boots. Young man. Fancies himself a tough one, I imagine. Humble men do not dress that way. Next one. Small one. Seen his type before. Have bought drugs from his type. Has necklace. Looks interesting. Would like to stare at it longer sometime. Female one. Odd coat. Have never seen weapons like that. Scarred, but too pretty to be a former criminal. Odd. Must have led interesting life. Still, I only fear bullets when people aren't trying to kill me. Last one. Looks normal. Looks boring. Fills me with dread. Is only one that scares me. Will watch him closely. Or not watch him at all. Shall decide later.

He withdraws from his a coat pocket a deck of cards. He shuffles them as he speaks. "My magic works better when I have a symbol representing my target. I shall give you each a card, one of the Major Arcana, to represent you. I, of course, am La Lune. I also, unfortunately, am Le Pendu. Dual selves and all that." He deals a card out for each of the superhumans. "Let us see what fate has assigned you. Admire the artwork. A friend designed this deck. You. Flare. You are Le Diable." A large, bearded man is seated on a lawn chair, two supplicants kneeling before him. Loose chains hang from their necks. His right hand is raised. The man is filthy, yet wears a shining crown. "Powerful. A strong personality. Immature. Cynical. Faithless. Hedonistic. Next. Dragon. You are Le Chariot." A rich man is seated in a shopping cart, being pulled by two animals. One is a greyhound. The other is a mongrel. "A dual nature. Anxiety and pride. Only by resolving your natures will you truly live. Next. Captain Jackson. You are La Force." A young girl stands waste-deep in swamp water. She holds the jaws of an alligator open with her hands. "Possessing inner strength. Morality." He looks disappointed in the draw. "You are a good person, probably. And finally, Templar. Le Pape." A tanned laborer stands in a field. His right hand is raised in blessing. In his left hand, he holds a hoe. Two suited men are bowing towards him. "Tradition. Conservatism. Stubbornness. The link between Heaven and Earth. And like Le Diable, it is a card of power." He lights another cigarette. "Do any of you object to this reading?"

[TruorTupnm]

Leon's sudden change straightens Trey into watchfulness. You have no idea what this guy is about, man. Something supernatural. You haven't had to deal with anyone like that, before. Are your scales good against magic? When the cards come out, though, Trey's eyes light up, and he comes closer to get a better look at them. The agent, ignored, is checking their equipment one last time and helping people out with cinching their straps and such. He sniffs softly with disdain at the cards, more from skepticism than from being left out.

Trey snickers and tosses an amused smile at the others, when they see their cards. When he sees his, he nods and, "Hmmm..."s for a bit. "Oh, man, I love this stuff! Are you going to tell our futures? Can you tell what card Pyropus is, or will we have to catch him before we can find out? How about, can you tell if this mission will be successful?" Although Trey does love this sort of thing and is always open-minded, when it comes to magic - due to his amulet - he is still wary about this guy, which might be indicated to the observant by the hastily skittering eyes above his eager grin, checking to see how taken in by the cards the others are.

As he helps Cap'n Cal shoulder her pack, the agent gives her a sympathetic smile. "Good luck with this lot, miss. I have been to Uzbekistan twice, if you don't count just flying over, which is all I'm here to do, this time. What would you like to know? We'll be dropping you outside of a small town, one of the ones that's been attacked by fleeing experiments, so they'll be on edge, but you may be able to get some information out of them. Your first target is about a day out, by foot, in the mountains. All I know about it is that it's a lab. The scientists and the army here don't see eye to eye, you may have heard, so I don't know how cohesive their efforts will be, but you should be prepared for anything, with this equipment." He places a boot on a large locker. "Your backpacks carry the standard stuff, but in here, we have just about everything a small strike force like this could need."

[Raz_Fox]

"Funny how you can tell that much from a simple deck of cards, Baptiste. But as long as you're just reading cards, I got no problem with that." I turned my attention from Baptiste to the agent. "Not much. But the locals - what language do they speak? We may have to play a masquerade there, and speaking the wrong tongue's a good way to break the play." I stopped, taking another look at my crew. "Though that might not be the biggest hindrance."

I threw the pack on my back, cinching the straps tight. "Oh, and how're the skies? I've done jobs that went down because we weren't watching the clouds." Pistols loaded. I'm ready for action.

[Shyftir]

Kyran smirked and released a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sniff.
"Will it blend?" he said with a smile, before realizing that the only person in the room who was likely to get the joke was the hacker kid.

"I don't know about you people but I'm not so good at blending in. If I was I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be here." He ran his hand through his dark hair and rested it on the back of his neck. "Quick question, sir." The last word dripping with sarcasm. "Just what is it you all do? You know, what's your power? He looked back and forth between the others. "Only one of ya I've ever heard of is "Reasonable" here and the stories about him tend to be pretty vague."

[TruorTupnm]

With a grin, he patted one of the backpacks. "Good question, miss. Uzbek is the official language, but Russian is known, in most places. The, ah, man who brought you here, did he give you something to eat? You will be able to understand any language, if you ate it. It doesn't work on codes, though, unfortunately. The dimension he comes from is far more advanced than ours, apparently. In your packs, you have enough of the stuff in pill form to last you two months. Hopefully, you won't need that much. Just in case, you also have booklets in your packs that can help, but hopefully, one of you at least knows Russian."

He swept a curious gaze over them all. "I was made to believe that this was more of a search and destroy mission, with possible captures, though. Is that wrong?" With a grin, he ducked his head. "Sorry. It's your mission, not mine. If you can get in touch with our agents down there, they should be able to get you what intel you can't smoke out for yourselves."

[smoketroll]

"Sir Dragon." His words seem highly rehearsed. "You will meet a beautiful woman. Your fate contains both the fortunate and unfortunate, in relatively equal numbers. You will die, and those who knew you will think it too soon." The Baron shrugs. "I prefer better circumstances for more detailed readings. Also, at the moment at least, your fate is tied rather closely to mine. I have no desire to know that. If Pyropus was here, I would give him a card. He seems like La Maison Dieu, but that is probably my subconscious distaste for the man. And as for this mission." He withdraws a black switchblade from his jacket and flicks it. "If I had a bird, preferably a rooster or white dove, I could give us some ideas of the challenges ahead." He puts the knife back. "But I do not. Besides... I already know the first challenge I at least must face." He turns to the agents. "I heard the word drop? That is literal... as in the parachute? And the bags and the trunk? What do they contain?"

He withdraws a small vial of blood from one of his pouches and pours a few drops of it on a tarot card, keeping the card concealed. "The blood came from a man who never spoke during life." He then withdraws a leaf and dips it in the blood. "The leaf came from a plant I found growing on his grave. This blessing shall help us stay concealed, I hope."

[TruorTupnm]

Studiously ignoring the card and leaf, the agent held up another backpack for the baron. "Yes, parachute. This is yours. I will be dropping the rest, when you are on your way. Survival gear, rations, communications devices, ammo, explosives, the whole kit."

Rolling his eyes while the baron's seem to be elsewhere, Trey, detecting the rehearsed tone, nods and waves a, "Sure, sure," hand at his reading. He is nevertheless obviously intrigued by the card and leaf bit. Huh. Well, he's cheesy, but he could be useful. These MI6 types haven't mentioned any dragon cults, not that I've volunteered much to make them look, but maybe this guy knows something.

After nodding his thanks for the blessing, he took a seat and some time to adjust his pack. "Awesome. And, hey, everybody, just call me Trey. I'm The Dragon only when I have to be." He points to Templar. "I'm bigger and at least stronger-looking than this guy, but I don't know what his powers are. I fly, breathe fire, and can do this..."

He made eye contact with Templar and projected, "Boo! Heh! Arm wrestle, when we can find a table? Staying out of a fight is my first choice, but I'll follow your lead, if we can't avoid it." into his brain, with a much larger voice than his natural one.

To Cap'n Cal, "Boo! Heh! Ah, about what the man said about me at the briefing, you don't need to worry about shooting me. I'm flying with you guys because you guys get me a flight back home! What kind of guns are those, though, ah, just out of curiosity?"

To Baron Baptiste, "Boo! Heh! It's just me, Trey, not Sir Dragon. The man said that you were our supernatural support. Know anything about a power like this?"

To Flare, "Boo! Heh! So, you're our main artillery, huh? You throw giant pins at people or something, Flare?"

To all and out loud, with a grin, "You can talk back to me like that, if I'm looking and trying to listen for it. It's something to keep in mind." He then spent his time trying to lock gazes with everyone, sometimes sighing and rubbing his eyes.

[Arq Kujos]

Simmons smiled at the blunt question. "Well, to put it simply, I'm the best goddamned soldier Uncle Sam ever had. That's probably why they call me the Patriot. To be more specific, I'm stronger, tougher, faster than any of those pinko commie bastards. I heal quicker, too." Southern accent dripped from his mouth as he spoke. Simmons always tended to revert to his Texas accent when he got excited or angry. "Besides, son," Simmons smirked, If you have heard of me, then that would make you a Soviet spy, a terrorist spy, or a dead man, and you sure look alive and kickin' ta me." Simmons rubbed his hands against his temples after staring down the mouthy little guy. More amateurs to train, mentor, wipe noses for.

[smoketroll]

"Ahh... explosives. Bad luck those things are. I look forward to not carrying any." He puts on the backpack and toys with the rings. "This is going to a distinctly unpleasant experience; I am certain of this."

The Baron seems slightly surprised by Trey's telepathy. "Unexpected. When I hear voices, they traditionally come from immaterial sources. I can do... something similar. But you have to be dreaming first. And the preparation for such a spell is not insignificant. I have never met anyone who can do what you do. Are you a magician, Sir Trey?" He does his best to avoid making eye contact with Trey, hoping to not be the target of any other abilities Trey may possess. "In fact, my I inquire on the talents, mystical or otherwise, that the rest of you may possess?"

[TruorTupnm]

Trey furrows his brows with frustration when the baron responds out loud and starts avoiding his eyes. Great. He's gonna be skittish, now, looks like. "Nah, I'm not a magician. Just lucky, I guess." He sits on his hands, to be sure that he won't fiddle with his necklace.

[Dersess]

Geno

Geno didn't particularly want to be here. Yes, he had owed the British for saving him from the SS back during the war, but after two tours in Africa, invading Sicily, fighting at Monte Cassino, and helping to secure Sword Beach at Normandy, not to mention countless other mission disrupting the plans of the SS involving foul magicks, Geno felt that debt had been repaid. The man at the door promised this was the last favor the Crown needed of him, and while Geno remained utterly skeptical at such a claim, he decided to go along with it for the time being. As he hurriedly made his way through the restaurant, he made extra care as to not bump the diners with his rather large, faded olive-drab pack that he carried on his back.

After the briefing, Geno silently gathers what gear he believes will be required; his old longsword, of course. After some debate, he picks up a Thompson submachine gun, and a few dozen rounds of .45 ammunition. While he never liked firearms much, the Thompson was enjoyable enough as a weapon that Geno tended to make an exception for them, after using them on several missions after the Normandy landings. Deciding that the gear he had would suffice, he swiftly boards the plane and buckles into his seat, resting his eyes for just a moment before the rest of his crew begin conversing. Opening one eye, he turns to address the captain.

"Uzbekistan...no, can't say I've ever made it that far east on the Continent. From what I understand, it's a combination of Turks and Russians," he quips, making a slight shudder as the words leave his mouth. "I do speak some Russian; perhaps not the exact dialect that the locals would speak, but hopefully enough that we will be able to communicate at least a little."

After the reading performed by Baptiste, Geno looks at Le Pape card handed to him. He inspects the card, and proceeds to give the card back to him. Those watching notice Geno's palms lacerated with what looks like several scars banded across, some a great deal fresher than the rest. With his free hand, Geno pulls a small lanyard from around his neck, attached to is a worn wooden cross.

"If you need a focus for your magick, Baron, identify me with a symbol I can respect, please. And this goes for the rest of you; Geno will be fine. Templar is the name given to me by this organization, and is as impermanent as such."

After this comment, his eye begins scrutinizing the others on the plane with Geno truly for the first time. Young. Brash. Naive. Nothing too surprising, really, although embers of potential crackled in each one. Pyropus would see this, too, however, and go through great lengths to either snuff them out or fan them for his own uses. They were going to have to be very car-Wait, what was that?

Geno snapped to Trey, and looked at him pensively.

"I trust you'll only be using that little trick when it's absolutely necessary, correct?"

[Shyftir]

"So what your saying is your powers are so boring no one cares about you?" The younger man said this with a smirk. He liked needling the suits. "What about you Redgrave? Shouldn't you be on a SAS team or something? Bit odd, you workin' for us Yanks, ain't it?"

Kyran often acted the rebellious teen. Makes the suits underestimate you, he thought quietly, never letting his habitual smirk leave his lips.

[TruorTupnm]

Feeling Templar's reaction, Trey edged a bit away from him while giving him a practiced and innocent look and making a calming gesture. "Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. Of course. Just letting you guys know what I can do." He rolled his eyes at him, for the others. "Heh. I asked if he wanted to arm wrestle, since we're..." A nervous gulp that was only half-affected. "Supposed to be the front lines..."

He raised a considering eyebrow at him, then raised them both to the others, innocently. "So is your power a super strong kind of thing? You might just be made out of toughness? Oh, yeah, and you're super old or something, too, right? Ah, I don't know any of you guys. We weren't told about each other. Or at least I wasn't, but shouldn't we know each other's, ah, expertises? Hey, if it's embarrassing or something, just don't tell us that you got your power by getting tripped into a vat of chemicals."

[industrious]

"Personally, Mr. Laraway, I think you will blend in just fine." The man spoke with an accent that sounded like a cross between New England and well...England. Dressed in what looked like a custom-made white suit, complete with coattails, the man lazily waved his hand in the air. The man practically exuded arrogance, boredom, and authority. "Grandstanding aside, gentlemen, I'd advise that we learn more on our own capabilities-without boasting, if you will. It's only...reasonable."

[Shyftir]

"I think I know why they call you that." Kyran flashed a real smile at the white-suited man. "I'm black-belt level in three forms of martial arts. An expert in the use of most hand-to-hand weapons, specializing in blunt force trauma." Kyran smiled and lifted his hand, his eyes glowed subtley silver as a spark leaped between his thumb and pinky. "I can also project a form of mental energy that can be used to shield myself or cause damage to others within close range. And you Mr. Reasonable?"

[Arq Kujos]

Simmons ran one hand back behind his head as he listened. "Only three? I thought you'd know a few more. Maybe if you watch close, you'll learn something from us pros." He turned and faced Redgrave and gave that sly, Texas smile that gave Simmons so much of his classic, southern charm. "To be more specific, Mr. Reasonable, I am a soldier. My powers are not natural, nor are they mine. I am enhanced by a powerful, microscopic set of machines, known as nanites, that enhance all of my senses, as well as significantly increasing my strength, stamina, and best of all, my healing. Though, I have over 16 years of C.I.A. and Marine training, including all forms of small arms, energy weapons, martial weapons, and I'm ranked in at least 6 different forms of martial arts. I like long walks on the beach, puppies, and America. Need to know anything else?" He laughed a little at his joke and then coughed. He reached back inside his jacket, took another swig of his flask, and then replaced it.

[Cpt. Soup]

Alice had sat wearing a stoic face while she observed her fellow team members seated around the table. She decided she should probably speak up now as she's the only one who hadn't, she lifted her hand for a moment before speaking. I don't have any supernatural or engineered abilities. As the man from before had said, I simply have something of an expertise in electronics and intelligence. The girl spoke without accent or any real hint to what region she as from. She was dressed well enough; instead of a suit she wore a skirt with a cardigan sweater over her blouse. Well, I'm a little more then just that.. I would like to know though what Agent Redgrave has to offer in terms of skills.

[Angel of Nessus]

As the meeting in the dark room progressed, a man was perched on his crate in a darker corner. It was almost impossible to make out anything about the figure, save his eyes- shining like smoldering orange rings surrounding black pupils, quickly scanning what must have been the folders on Pyropus and Warper. The meeting ended, and the figure's eyes darted up to the group of supers that it seemed he would be working with. Fantastic.

He rose from his crouched position and jumped down from the crate, and into the light. He was about six feet tall, dressed in a stylish red longcoat reaching to his knees over a black sipped up vest and white undershirt, and baggy, dark blue jeans tucked into black all purpose boots. He swept the bangs of his long crimson hair from his angular, pale-skinned, perfectly symmetrical face as he left the room behind the others with a smooth gait.
It was odd, he thought, that MI6 would gather together individual supers who had no prior working relationship, especially considering the danger that the "target" and his associates represented, and have them apprehend said bad guy. Top that off with an unfamiliar terrain, and you had a basket of firefights and disasters wrapped up in a neat little package with a tag reading "MISSION" taped to it.
What the hell, he thought, I'm good at firefights.

He stepped into the plane and immediately began to don his parachute and assorted other gear over his longcoat. He stayed out of conversation at first, listening to the others banter. The strange creole man with the skull mask painted on his face seemed to have a splintered personality, but he had a definite aura of magic. When one had as much power as the man in red did, the occult power of others was almost palpable. La Diable, he said as he drew a card from his deck. Well, thought the man in red, I may not agree with that "Faithless" part, but the rest sounds about right. He grinned a white, perfectly aligned grin.

The attractive captain- quite attractive, he noted with interest- spoke to the agent and brought up language issues. He grinned wider and raised his hand in a two fingered salute.
"Русский язык не будет проблемой, даже без пилюль," he said with a perfect Western Russian accent, and a voice that perfectly complimented his graceful looks. He ignored the man called Trey's mocking comment, simply tossing him an amused grin. It was not until "Baptiste" inquired as to powers the group possessed that he spoke in English.
"Well," he said with an accent that could not be narrowed down any further than Eastern American, "let's say that we won't need to worry about anyone's lighters not working." He held up his hands, more so that he could inspect them than to show the others, and felt the blood flowing through the entirety of his body and the energy coursing down to his palms. Through the linen wrappings, faint crimson-orange lines began to glow, depicting swirling patterns that were unidentifiable through the obscuring cloth. He closed his eyes and chuckled lightly to himself; ever since the day he had opened that book, he had been aware of the blood flowing through his veins, every heartbeat, and every shift in his body's vital energy; awareness of his very life. That awareness had given him the power to control it, direct it to... well, let's just say he was not sure whether he wanted to be forced to use his "artillery" or not.
Suddenly he remembered something. "Oh and by the way, just call me Vergil. Flare is my street name," he said with that grin. He turned to Jackson with a piercing gaze. "You, however, may call me whatever you like." He bowed slightly, never breaking eye contact with her.

Finally found the time and inspiration to post. Also, Raz, you knew the risks when you made a female character. Now you got the womanizer all up in your lobby. I tried to restrain him, but I mean, hell, he shoots fire at people. What was I supposed to say to that???

[Raz_Fox]

Joy of joys, I had a pyromaniac and a mind-reader on the crew. At least the minder wasn't the amorous one, else there might have been some trouble. Crazy-shaman, pyro, minder and the old man. This mission was already starting to look shaky.

"Alright, Pyro, if you say so." I didn't smirk, but my tone of voice made it clear enough how seriously I took his flirting. I turned my attention to the rest of the team, instead of wasting any more time with him. "Right, we'll be dropping in Uzbekistan soon. Trey, you are going to scout the area around the drop site as soon as we land. Baptiste, I need to talk with you about your capabilities - it won't hurt to have an extra card in our hand during this mission. Geno, Pyro - if we happen to encounter locals, you're to talk with them. Perhaps we could pass for a band of wandering carneys. We certainly look the part. Trey, Baptiste - will you be able to hold your own in a scrap? I don't want you to die on my watch."

[TruorTupnm]

Trey perked up at the glow, but he quickly shrugged, thinking, "Hm? Some kind of fire power? My fire breath must be the icing on the cake, then. My other stuff must be why I'm here. Wait. Argh! I don't even want to get mixed up in this mission!" His scowl disappeared, though, as he leaned to the side and groaned as if in pain, at Flare's confident display. He smirked at Cap'n Cal's response and relaxed a bit, surprising himself when he found that he had tensed, in the first place. "Huh. Well, I'll find out what her guns do, eventually. Anyway, I don't even know what she can do, yet. What do I care if this snappy dresser comes onto her? She can handle herself, even if she doesn't have powers! Heh. I've been beaten pretty hard by ladies that I freaked out, before."

He nodded casually at her order to scout, then more confidently at her query. "You don't need to worry about me crapping out on you, Commander." The title was said with only a little sneer. "I may not look like much, right now, but I make these guys look like kittens, when I transform. Trust me." A nervous look at Templar. "Well, okay, maybe not him, but you know what I mean. And I can volunteer to watch out for our fortuneteller here, if you want." He tossed the baron a grin and attempted to catch his eye again.

From the cockpit, the pilot can be heard musing, "I'll be glad to get out of here. Something doesn't feel right..."

[Angel of Nessus]

Just fyi, no actual flame appeared in Flare's hands; all that appeared were the brand lines on his hands and forearms, obscured by the linen wrappings.

The man named Vergil stood gazing at that same spot as Jackson walked right past him and brushed him off like so many ashes. After a moment he finally registered the turn that the encounter had taken, and his look turned into one of incredulity. It was odd; he had never been dismissed quite so quickly before, and never dismissed by a woman who didn't actually turn out to be married. She had even called him "Pyro".
Huh, he thought, is it too late to change my street name? Another moment passed. Nah, I bet it's been taken.

He turned about and looked over the rest of the group with Jackson at the center of his vision, surrounded by the Baron Samedi lookalike, the timeless looking "Templar", and the telepathic kid named Trey. Who knew what other powers they might possess.

Vergil's sly grin became a genuine, if small, smile. This was going to be interesting; that much was certain.

[Raz_Fox]

One of the special agents at the door checks his watch, then mutters something about going to catch the plane. The other agent clears his throat and says, louder than his counterpart, "If you'll come with us, gentlemen - and Miss Albright - then we'll have you out of here and heading for the airstrip in no time."

----------------------

Roughly fifteen minutes later, the plane takes off with very little pomp and ceremony, carrying the last bastion of hope for all of western civilization. The pilot informs you over the intercom that you'll be landing in Uzbekistan in roughly three hours, so familiarize yourselves with your gear and ready yourselves for landing near the quaint little village of Chiriyastalza.

Within minutes, the plane's soaring over the Atlantic Ocean. Not much happens for the next two and a half hours, other than the unique kind of small talk you get in situations like this.

...

...

The sky grows darker as you finally get close to the end of your flight, and eventually rain starts pelting at the windows. And then, very suddenly, the wind starts picking up. Looks like Uzbekistan isn't too inviting.

*Um, gentlemen, looks like we might be having a bit of turbulence-* The plane begins to shake, reinforcing his statement. *-Don't worry, we'll still be landing in roughly six minutes.*

The shaking becomes more pronounced. Worryingly so. In fact, lesser men might actually be scared right now. Flashes of lightning and peals of thunder ring out outside of the plane, and the storm seems to have gone from "light rain" to "oh god get to shelter now" levels.

Such fun.

[Arq Kujos]

Simmons was wearing a special full body combat suit that integrated with his nanites. He wore a large brown coat over it. He was wearing his parachute and had almost all his gear checked and double checked. .45 Caliber Pistol. Check. Combat knife. Check. 6 grenades. Check. Enough C4 to level a small country. Check. Assault rifle. Check. The rest of his gear was more general. Medical equipment, binoculars, N.V.G.s, communicator, watch. etc. Simmons spent extra time with his guns. A clean gun was a happy gun. Simmons' preferred assault rifle of choice was the H&K G36. It was light, compact, and reliable. He had specially customized his to fire the 5.45 rounds common among the soldiers of the U.S.S.R. He also gave it a special, infrared scope and unique grenade launcher on the front. He carried a variety of shells for it, including high explosives, white phosphorus rounds, and a unique electromagnetic shell that would fire of a pulse of highly charged electricity that would stun nearly any machine or kill a normal human. Simmons doubted he would be fighting many "normal" humans on this mission. Simmons also carried with him his personal favorite weapon, the Patriot. The Patriot was a special, .45 caliber handgun that he had been working on his entire life. He had made it specially for taking down tougher than average foes. He had a built in silencer, as well as laser scope, laser pointer, and an extended clip that held 15 rounds. Each of his bullets were made by him. The were triple packed with gun powder, giving them the armor piercing ability of a .50 caliber rifle round. Each one was also packed with a special, electro-magnetic core that gave them a nasty shock when they hit the target. The shock was equal to a being hit by about 500,000 volts of electricity, but it lasted for all of 3 seconds. Of course, the weapons usually didn't make it through the mission, so Simmons was ready for hand to hand.

After making sure that his equipment was in top shape, Simmons cleared his throat to address team, unfazed by the weather. "Alright team, listen up. With the exception of Shadow Man and myself, none of you have any experience with this kind of work, so I'm going to lay down a few rules to help keep everyone alive. From now on, we use code names only. Call me Patriot, call him Shadow Man. You are now Shepherdess, you are Mr. Reasonable, and you are Silver-Shock. They may seem unnecessary, but if someone is caught, you don't want to go giving names away. Also, I want you guys to stay together as much as possible. If we have to spilt up, I want Silver-Shock with me. Together, I believe we could do a lot of damage. Now does anyone have any questions before we land? Now is the time to ask."

OOC: I hope this isn't stepping on anybodies' toes. I just want to make sure we all come back alive.

[Dersess]

Geno

Geno nods at the captain's delegation of duty.

"As I stated, Captain, I may not speak the exact dialect of Russian that the locals do, but I will do my best. If we are trying to pass as strange folk, the diasporic Uyghur tribes have large populations in Uzbekistan, I believe. Anyone with a knowledge of the people would be able to spot us out, but the common citizen I think would be content with us being a simple group of travelers. The decision is yours, of course."

He then turns to meet the gaze of Trey, looking directly into the young man's eyes. It becomes apparent that Geno's eyes are the only visible part of his body to have aged; the irises of each simply looking completely dead and gray, and all manner of disturbing. Behind them is an aura of palpable malice strangely tempered with true concern and caring.

"One shouldn't be so eager to go into combat, young one. The captain is right; I think we would all prefer if all those on the plane return from the mission in one piece."

[Shyftir]

Kyran was wearing a slight variation on his ordinary outfit: loose fitting black cargo-pants a tight dark green shirt that appeared to be Under-armor, a pair of heavy black shoes, a thick belt with a few loops and pouches and a loose frog-buttoned black jacket that hung down to mid thigh.

He mentally ran through his equipment checklist: Hands. Check. Feet. Check. Attitude. He cricked his neck to one side. Double Check.

After taking care of the essentials he stowed away his other items into various pockets and sheathes: a pair of batons, nunchaku, a few knives, machete, flashlight, a set of lockpicks, throwing stars, etc. He then buttoned his oriental style jacket and donned his parachute.

"By the way!" he yelled to Simmons trying to be heard over the storm, "I don't actually have any black-belts, most of my instructors didn't believe in giving 'ranks!' I just say that so people understand I'm really good at beating the ever living crap out of people." with that Kyran flashed Simmons a smile and a thumbs-up.

[industrious]

The Reasonable Man nods his head, more than a little nauseated by the plane. Apparently, he doesn't travel well. He hasn't made any special preparations, other than taking a standard-issue combat knife from a helpful agent; it's currently up his sleeve at the moment.

"I don't suppose anybody brought any motion sickness pills?"

[TruorTupnm]

Suitably intimidated by Geno's eyes, Trey nods vigorously. "Right! You're right. I won't be eager! I will be in the back or scouting up in the air or something! You can watch the fortuneteller! I don't mind!" Hearing the pilot say something and happy for the excuse to be away, he hops up and slinks for the cockpit.

On his way, his expression darkens, and he starts fingering his amulet. "Guy thinks I don't know what I'm about? I know what I'm about! I can make sure that all of them make it through this alive!" He slows in his darting retreat, straightens up, and shrugs, as if dropping a burden. "Oookay. That was crazy." He stuffs the hand that was fingering his amulet into a pocket. "I could handle things easy, but I'm too smart to actually want to. Right. I'll just pay attention to this lady. She seems sensible enough." He flinched, hoping that he hadn't given too much away with his body language, then poked his head into the cockpit. "Hey, man! What's up? We almost there?"

The pilot, not looking away, waved a hand at the view, which didn't seem strange, at first glance. "Yeah, almost. Something is making me nervous, though. I know that we haven't been detected, unless they've got something new. It just seems...too quiet." At Trey's shrug, he turned and glared at him. "Get out of here! Where's your commander?"

[Arq Kujos]

Simmons smirked and returned the thumbs up to Kyran. This mouthy little punk might just make it after all, he thought to himself.

[TruorTupnm]

At second glance, though, you also feel that something is a bit off. It seems like a nice day, without a cloud in the sky, not to mention the lack of enemies trying to shoot you down.

Oh. Wait. There goes one. Those with exceptional vision might have spotted a human form flitting away. Of course, the plane catches up to it and four more, quickly. They appear to be standing in mid-air. Although you don't have much time to gawk before the plane continues past, you see that they are all female, and all but one are wearing cheap hospital gowns, with the one wearing a lab coat. That one points at the plane, and, moments later, the plane shakes and everything electronically-oriented starts showering sparks and streaming smoke.

The agent in the back staggers up and starts shoving everyone towards the door, which he opens. He shouts, "You first! Take them out, if you can! We'll level out! I'll throw the supplies after you!"

Trey, after backing out of the cockpit and growling as he ripped a sparking digital watch off of his wrist, looks a lot less frightened than you might expect, although he's clinging to supports through the continuing lightning blasts. He grins like a maniac and indicates the agent with a nod of his head. "I'll go last! I can fly, so I'll stick with these guys as long as I can!" The agent, trying to shove you all out, looks ready to burst as Trey starts taking his pack off to give to him.

When you're out of the plane, either because you jumped, were pushed by the agent, or were flung out due to a lightning blast, you free fall for a bit and see one be-hospital-gowned woman flit around the plane, still shooting lightning bolts at it. Before you fall very far, the other four waft under you. Whatever they're standing on keeps up with the plane and looks to be maneuvering to catch you as you fall. The women look curious, amused, and, strangely, entirely composed, ten thousand feet up.

One of the gowned ones is kneeling and concentrating, sometimes responding to the others through gritted teeth. The others speak conversationally, with Lab Coat obviously in charge. She cheekily waves farewell to you, then apparently orders the others to attack. The one on her left points at Baron Baptiste, and he is caught by a cushion of air. He lands on what is, at the moment, solid air, and stands to find that he is in a bubble with the women. The bubble is matching the plane's speed and descending with it, but he no longer feels like he's falling, besides some ear-popping.

The one on the left closes in, pounding her fist into her hand, causing vibrations with the force of the blows. Baron Baptiste, since the others wouldn't be able to hear it yet. --->

"Ha, ha! Little birdie's gonna get smashed."
The one on the right glances at the kneeling one, then disappears. Lab Coat folds her arms with satisfaction and advises with a scoff,

"Nothing can stop us. Just give up."
^---Also just for the baron, although neither is really a large deal.

I rolled some dice to see the order of exits from the plane. It's Baron Baptiste, Cap'n Cal, Templar, then Flare. They're all falling and will reach the bubble in that order, unless they do something to change their falling speeds. Since the ladies only want to deal with you one at a time, you'll meet resistance at the edge of the bubble, but it wouldn't take much to fight your way in. Trey is still up in the plane, helping the agent with tossing your supplies out.

[Raz_Fox]

Roughly a minute ago, I noticed that we were under attack - though I'd never seen anyone up in the skies without a ship, it seemed that Pyropus had more up his sleeves than we'd expected. Half a minute ago, I jumped from the plane, reassured that the parachute would work, hoping Geno and Pyro would have the good sense to jump as well. So now here I am, freefalling, waiting for the right moment to slow my momentum by using the 'chute. After all, doing it now would leave me a floating target for whoever's throwing the gorram bolts of lightning.

I pulled out my pistols as I fell, keeping a tight grip on the handles so the winds wouldn't rip them from my grasp. Thank God I'd kept them loaded. It only took a moment to gauge how my movement and the winds would be throwing off the shot, and then I aimed both my pistols at the "leader" of our adversaries.

Had about ten seconds before I hit the bubble Baptiste had been imprisoned in. I pulled my wrists to my chest, crossing them, and fired. Never before had I been so thankful for my pistols' kick - small as it was, it pushed me back. Enough to avoid being trapped with Baptiste? I could only hope.

[TruorTupnm]

Lab Coat, who had been eagerly waiting for Baptiste to get beaten to a pulp, suddenly gets jerked out of the line of fire. The shots ping off of the unnatural platform. Lab Coat scrambles around for a bit and looks like she may be having a fit, until the gowned woman who had disappeared reappeared and was kicked off of her. The now-visible woman points up at Cal in protest, and Lab Coat attempts to compose herself. She waves the attention of Baptiste's opponent away, nods, and points at her attacker, looking a bit less confident. The other one disappears again, and the bubble swiftly rises to admit Cap'n Cal.

Meanwhile, Trey and the unnamed agent finally manage to push the supplies out. They glare at each other, ready to argue over who leaves the plane first. The pilot appears to be having difficulties with regaining control. They are ignoring the curses that he is freely distributing, but their attention goes back to him when he leaves the cockpit, grabs his parachute, and jumps out with the warning that the lady with the lightning just started to look angry.

Trey curses, shuts his eyes to concentrate for a second, transforms, then shoves the agent out. He then cranes his neck outside, attempting to locate his opponent. She's grinning as the two men open their parachutes, Trey gulps, then launches himself.

[Angel of Nessus]

Vergil fell with a loud "HAHAHAAAAAA". He had never jumped from a plane before, and it was made all the more exciting by the danger that the newcomers presented. He spun about in the air, longcoat's tail flapping in front of him as he fell back first towards the distant earth. He focused his smoldering eyes on the women attacking the plane, especially the one in the white lab coat. Even from this rapidly increasing distance, he could tell that they were all lovely in one way or another. Or maybe it was his pride (how could he run from anyone but?). In any case, he was not amused at the threat. And he would respond in kind.

With a flourish of his right hand, he channeled vital energy down his arm and to the arcane circles on both the inside and outside of his palm. The energy flared brilliantly along the lines all the way down his arm, burning the linen wrapping from his hand and his wrist and exposing the circles and swirling flame diagrams to anyone who cared to look. He swung his glowing hand through the air and spun himself once more to the right in a full circle. As he did, fiery orange circles the size of fists, identical to the ones on his hands, appeared in the air where his open hand trailed. A moment passed as each circle (8 in all, spiraling down behind the pyromancer) brightened to blinding lights and suddenly exploded in sequence. From each burst flew a long comet-like trail of brilliant flame that spiraled through the sky towards the unidentified assailants.

Once each flare burst from their casting circle, Vergil smiled a cheshire cat smile and channeled energy down both his arms and into his palms. The linen around his left hand burned away as a fireball three times the size of a flare spiraled into being between his hands in the middle of a much larger version of his fiery casting circle. He pulled it back with his right hand, holding it floating just out of his grip, and snarled as he flung it full force at the perpetrators.

I was only then that he noticed the imprisoning bubble. Oh hell.

Baptist had been captured; maybe the pyromancer could avoid capture as well as free the magician, and look absolutely dashing while doing it. He focused once more and stretched both of his arms our in front of him, left hand behind his right, now with the earth rapidly approaching his left shoulder. Before his hands appeared his casting circle surrounding a much smaller version of the explosive fireball he had sent at the women above, but one with just as much explosive power. He detonated the bomb directly in front of him, blasting himself a good dozen feet backward and clearing his path of the bubble. As his hands began to ache with the force of the blast, he called up flame- this one appearing as a thick spearhead holding just behind his left hand. With another snarl, he launched his fist forward at the bubble and the lancing flame rocketed forward.

He uses eight flares and created a fireball and launches them towards the women, wherever they are; maybe it will hit them and startle them or something, I don't know. Then, he creates a small but powerful explosion directly in front of him that knocks him well out of danger regarding the bubble. The then sends a fire lance at it, hoping to burst it and set Baptiste free. He's used about 15% of his total energy; noticeable loss, but nothing he can't handle. WHEW.

Casting circle:
http://i310.photobucket.com/albums/kk402/angelofnessus/Arcane_Fire_by_Nolava1.jpg

[TruorTupnm]

Looking warily at Cap'n Cal, Lab Coat noticed Flare's efforts culminating in his first attack and gripped the kneeling one's hair with a shout, when the results came at them. The fireball shoots past Templar and splashes against the barrier, possibly singeing Cap'n Cal, if she would have tried to avoid being sucked into the bubble again. Everyone in the bubble falls about a foot, stumbles, and steadies themselves again, as control is reestablished. The invisible one reappears and disappears, looking quite trepidatious before she goes. The kneeling lady detaches herself, shoves Lab Coat's legs away, and flattens herself to the bubble's floor.

Lab Coat, deciding that things are getting too dangerous, glares at Flare, then points towards the abandoned plane and their lightning-wielding ally. The bubble speeds forward, luckily even before they noticed Flare making his lance, leaving it, Templar, Flare, and possibly Cap'n Cal to gravity. With a gape at the mostly accidentally dodged lance and a kind of nervous-looking yet mocking wave, she turns to keep an eye on Baron Baptiste again.

When Trey jumped out of the plane, he first yelped at the cold and the sudden snapping of his wings. Apparently, his opponent wasn't overly affected by either, as she quite easily flitted to gain better views of the falling supplies and parachuting men. He attempts to grab her attention with a flame-producing roar as he flaps furiously to close in on her, but she picks off each of the non-combatants before he can get there, leaving their parachutes to carry their remains down.

She bolts the supplies as an afterthought, then heads for the approaching bubble, although Lab Coat is waving her arms and pointing at the trailing Trey, who vainly breathes a thin stream of fire at her heels. The lightning-wielder smirks at the falling Templar and Flare (and possibly Cap'n Cal), then reels on Trey. Knowing that he is a lot less maneuverable than she is, he breathes a few weak but obscuring clouds of mostly smoke as he dives towards her.

OOC: The fight looks like this, roughly:
.................................................. ........Flare

.................Trey............................. .....Templar
Falling Plane..........Lightning Lady
.................................................. ..Possibly Cap'n Cal
...........................................Bubble
....................Crisped Supplies and NPC's

Also, woah. I had to do a quick edit, when you added the lance bit, which is why they mostly accidentally dodged it. I suppose that this Lab Coat character is quite easy to fluster.

[Angel of Nessus]

The pyromancer caught the eyes of the woman in the lab coat. His own, still glowing with that fiery radiance, begin to brighten even more as he funneled energy once again into his hands. The pain of both the trajectory-altering blast and this newer, massive focus of energy was enough to make Vergil flinch. He held out his hands and spun once more, creating a veritable minefield of flare circles- twenty in all, each with power comparable to that of a frag grenade. With a series of bursts that rivaled the deafening sound of wind rushing past him, Vergil launched them all and directed them towards the woman in white, trying to loosen her focus as much as possible.

Thats another 20% of his energy sunk into a heavy attack; he's down to about 65%. Needless to say, he's feeling it. Also, what does this Lab Coat character look like?

[Dersess]

Geno

Perhaps a little startled, but not particularly unfazed, Geno peers out the window quickly in time to see the figures approach the plane. When the electronics and other instruments begin to go awry, he scrambles to the overhead compartment just about his seat, pulling out his sword and his Thompson. After Flare, Baptiste and the Captain have exited the plane, he grabs a parachute, thinking back to his days in the SAS. Parachuting couldn't have changed that much, could it?

He closes his eyes and takes a dramatic step forward onto nothing, beginning a free-fall back to the planet. Geno luckily manages to get re-accustomed to the rather tricky prospect of maneuvering in a fall before getting his face blasted off by one of Virgil's attacks, turning to face the recipient of the attack. Lacking any truly useful abilities for such a situation, Geno braces his submachine gun with his shoulder and opens fire, shooting down towards the woman with lightning. A familiarbrakkabrakkabrakka erupts from the barrel of the gun, the shells ejecting out the side down to the nothingness below.

[TruorTupnm]

Finding her main use to be not underestimating her enemies, the invisible one (the tall and icy blonde-looking sort) reappears to scream a warning and clutch the one that's flattened herself (the slight and mousy sort). Lab Coat (the small, acidic, and imperiously sure of herself sort, with glasses, of course) growls in frustration at having her fun interrupted again, then squawks when she sees the flames coming at her. The one that's been having fun with apparently attempting to intimidate Baron Baptiste by very slowly advancing is incongruously average-looking, besides her eyes, which appear fairly empty of anything besides dim and slow reactions.

She, along with everyone else in the bubble, loses the bubble's protection when the blonde reaches the mousy woman. Baptiste is falling again, while his opponent looks surprised for a second, then just keeps trying to swing at him. Lab Coat desperately reaches for the other two, misses due to the blonde going invisible again, then plummets while sobbing. The blonde reappears, shouting at and apparently attempting to coach the mousy one into saving them. None of the flames hit anyone, due to the bubble protecting her from the first few then suddenly vanishing, causing aim to be off, although several blasts do almost kill them all as they fall.

The lightning-wielder (the large, stupid, and gleefully cruel sort) loses her gleefully cruel look for a second when she sees The Dragon coming at her. She holds a hand out in the same manner that she has employed to shoot lightning before but hesitates and looks confused about something just before several of Templar's shots rip through her. The Dragon flaps awkwardly to keep himself out of the line of fire, watches her body fall, smirks, then throws Templar a thumbs up. He then surveys the scene, attempting to make eye contact with everyone, looking for where he'd be needed the most.

[Raz_Fox]

For a minute, it seems as if the storm lets up. The rain becomes slightly less pronounced, the lightning halts, and the pilot chuckles over the intercom, *Well, I can see the landing site now, folks. Get ready to disembark, and make sure you've got all your-*

He is slightly interrupted by the lightning bolt ripping through the front of the plane. And by slightly interrupted, I mean terminally so. Two more follow suit, ripping through the metal like it was paper. A peal of thunder rolls out, and the plane begins to descend. And by descend, I mean falling to your doom.

The sound of mad laughter rings out as you begin to approach the landing site a bit faster than intended. Now would be a really, really good time to come up with a plan...

[Arq Kujos]

((How high up are we? Parachute range? If so, then no problem. If not, then I think now would be the time for us bail out and hope for the best.))

[Raz_Fox]

((Well, it's tricky to judge. It'd probably work, but you'd have to be lucky to avoid some scrapes and bruises at the least. Oh, and did I mention THE LIGHTNING? Which just killed the pilot?))

[Arq Kujos]

((As opposed to the giant fall to certain death, except for me of course, thanks to super hard bones and ridiculously high healing factor?))

"God, Jesus, Mary, and George Washington!" Patriot rolled up and moved the still smoking pilot from the chair. "Well, our pilot is fried and we are going down. If anyone can fly a plane, now would be the time. If not, then you can follow me out the side and make sure you bring a parachute." Patriot waited for a response as he double checked his chute.

[Shyftir]

"Oh sh..." Kyran did the one thing he could do, which was less than ideal, but he knew it would work.

"EVERYBODY OUT!" he bellowed and began all but throwing his teamates and anybody else with a parachute out of the vehicle. When everybody else had exited, he threw himself out.

"Cowabunga, dude." he quipped as he threw himself out. After a few seconds he began summoning his powers. He allowed the crackling silvery energy to bleed into the atmosphere around him. He knew that this would attract lightning, he'd found that out the hard way.

When the inevitable lightning bolt struck at him, he felt the build-up just before it happened. He threw up a shield of silvery energy around himself just as it struck. The blast still rocked him but he was able to avoid the worst of its effects. The static-like sensation filled his mind but he continued to let the slight energy-bleed seep out, attracting another bolt.

After three such bolts, he pulled his rip cord, hoping he had judged his distance correctly. He let the energy seep go as soon as the chute was open. He hoped he'd attracted enough of the lightning to protect the others. He could no longer hold his powers; the mind-static was too much.

When the ground came hurtling up at him, he barely had the presence of mind to bend his knees and roll with it. He pulled the pin freeing his chute and lay on the storm-wracked ground exhausted. His eyes lost the silvery sheen quickly, but his hair was heavily streaked with silver and plastered to his face by the rain. In short, he looked and felt a wreck.

[industrious]

"I can do this. We can do this," The Reasonable Man repeats the mantra over and over while they fall to the ground. His powers calm and relax everybody, focusing their minds. Pulling his rip cord, the Reasonable Man sinks to the ground gently...before falling flat on the ground from ten feet up. Strangely enough, his suit seems perfectly fine; not a thread out of place.

[Raz_Fox]

((Well, I was waiting for Soup and Falconer, but I might as well keep things moving.))

The landing is rough. Really rough. You land in what seems to be a mixture of mud, water and rocks sharpened just for you. Even the Reasonable Man's impeccable cleanliness is having problems when he's ankle-deep in muddy water, and the rest of you look a mess. Despite the conditions, you seem to have survived, by the grace of God.

Then, as if that wasn't enough, your eardrums are assaulted by the sound of the plane meeting a cliff face, and the subsequent explosive combustion of all four engines. The roar is painfully loud, even though it wasn't close enough to harm any of y'all. It crashed about half a mile off, by your best guess.

As your eardrums stop ringing, the sound of truly insane laughter can be heard, echoing from the hills around you. Lightning splits the storm again, and then another man falls from the sky. He hits the ground hard, with a wave of mud-water and rocks leaping up from the crater he makes. He's still laughing, despite the blood trickling down his arms.

"Heh. Still alive. Ha-heh-heh. Not for much longer. Ha-ha-heh." He raises his arm, and electricity crackles between his fingers. His face twists in pain and he screams as the electricity races up and down his arm - and then a lightning bolt shoots from his hand. His aim is horrible, but do you really need to aim when you're shooting a force of nature?

Two shadowy figures descend from the clouds, seemingly wafting on the winds above the lightning-boy, as said lightning-boy points his arm at the Reasonable Man and begins to charge up the electricity again.

First contact is a pain, ain't it?

[Arq Kujos]

Patriot coughed up some bile and blood as he hit the ground, but he was tough and that wouldn't stop him. He cut his chute and watched to wind pull it away to God only knows where. He could already feel the nanites in his blood healing his wounds and he smirked. "You bastards will need a lot more than that to keep me down." Then, he saw the lightning boy cackling like an idiot and aiming at Mr. Reasonable. "No, no I don't think so." Patriot pull his knife out and launched it with all the skill, care, and training a man could possess. He aimed the blade right at Lightning boy's hand, hoping that a giant piece of sharp metal might be enough to slow him down. As he threw he also saw the two shadowy figures float down behind him. "When it rains, it pours!" Patriot seemed almost excited to be back in the heat of combat. He pulled his assault rifle up and started firing at the two shadowy figures.

[Cpt. Soup]

This was not remotely what Alice had expected. She was covered from head to toe in filth, she could make out a lovely, jagged rock barely a foot away from where she landed, and god help her if her bag's sealing had been broken..

Although she was still in shock over this first twist to their top secret mission, it hasn't stopped her from feeling white hot waves of hatred for the freaks that brought it about. Oh how they will suffer for this.. but first she was going to play dead until her teammates had tenderized them for a bit. Yes, that's probably the best idea as this wet and filthy environment is no place for her. If it comes to it she held her lighter tightly in one fist, with any hope it wasn't soaked.

[industrious]

"That is an interesting ability." The Reasonable Man looks at the man threatening him squarely in the eye. "Very powerful, it looks like. Control over lightning." His tone is conversational, but there is an added layer to his voice, something that can't quite be identified. His power. His gift for convincing people. "But how difficult it must be to control that power; lightning is so treacherous, striving to strike at the highest point every time, each bolt natually inclined to seek out the point highest above the treetops. And what if you reverse the polarity? It would turn on you in a heartbeat, wouldn't it? So it's good that you have such control over your ability, my good man. Because it is so very easy to misstep, each time you use it."

[Shyftir]

His team needed him. He'd failed other teams before.

NOT THIS TIME! The thought rumbled through his head and he sat up.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out his pair of batons. Bone weary, he stumbled to his feet. Rage and silver glow fought in his eyes as he pulled on his powers. He knew he was over-extending himself, but he was far too angry to care.

Suddenly he burst into movement, sprinting toward the lightning-controlling maniac. He knew the crazed mutant would launch a bolt at him, but when it came Kyran again raised his energy shield and the bolt rebounded harmlessly.The mind-static rose but Kyran forced it down with sheer fury. A terrible grin spread across Silver-Shock's mouth, as he raised his right arm as if to strike with the baton in that hand. At the last second, he pulled short and struck forward with his left arm jabbing the baton in that hand at his opponent's groin.

But no martial artist worth the name stopped at one strike. He brought his right baton down at the intersection of neck and shoulder, twisting his hips and stepping in to provide power. His next move was to attempt to snake that same baton behind his enemy's neck and use it to pull his face down toward Kyran's quickly rising left knee. If his opponent managed to resist the head jerk Kyran would merely adjust the knee strike more toward the groin. Lastly he brought the left baton back across butt first attempting to hammer strike his enemy's temple. All this was done in the space of a couple seconds.

[Raz_Fox]

The power-laced words of the Reasonable Man have little visible effect on the lightning-boy. Perhaps it's because of the knife that sliced open his fingers; maybe it's because of Silver-Shock's crazed assault on the lightning boy.

Speaking of Silver-Shock, as the lightning-boy and the superhero tussle, it's clear who's got the upper hand. Blood trickles from the boy's face where Kyran smashed his knee into. But, as Kyran raises his left baton, the boy grabs at him with his left hand and screams in pain and fury, and releases another one of his lightning bolts at point-blank range. If it makes you feel any better, his chest is smoking and burnt in the aftermath, but Kyran's going to be feeling that in the morning.

Meanwhile, Patriot's firing at the two hovering in the winds - but one of them holds out their hands, and the bullets are lost in the sudden, horribly strong wind. Well, most of them, judging from their occasional grunt of pain. Then, the other one screams.

It's not loud, it's an assault on your ears. Even lightning-boy cries out in pain and holds his crackling fingers to his ears. The scream causes tiny little waves in the mud-rock-water you're knee-deep in, and dislodges some of the more jagged rocks from the mud.

Then it's over, and lightning-boy shakes his head, still disoriented. The first figure in the sky begins to make grandiose motions, while the second seems to be holding their throat.

[Arq Kujos]

"Damn I love this JOB!" Patriot let his gun hang from his chest harness as he pull out a flashbang grenade. He pulled the pin and let it fly towards the lightning kid. The beauty was, he didn't need it to hit anywhere near them to blind and disorient them. He moved up with lightning fast speed as the flashbang covered his approach.

Then, he was hit by the scream. The affects of it caused his flashbang to fly off in the distance, rendering it ineffective. It almost knocked him off his feet, but Patriot rolled to the side and landed hunched over. He quickly kept moving to reinforce Silver-Shock. His first steps were shaky, but Patriot was used to fast paced battles. He quickly picked up speed and lunged at Lightning-Boy's side.

Patriot had watched Silver-Shock fight Lightning boy out the corner of his eye. There was no doubt that Silver-Shock was an incredible fighter. Unfortunately, Silver-Shock was trained in a dojo and that made him more of a street brawler and match fighter than soldier. Patriot would show him how soldiers fought.

When Patriot connected with Lightning-Boy, he delivered his foot right to his knee, dropping him to one knee. With his right foot still on Lightning-Boy's knee, Patriot brought his right hand to the back of Lightning-Boy's head and brought it down to meet his left knee. The impact made a loud crack, and as Patriot brought his knee back, he brought his left fist and connected it to the back of Lightning-Boy's head. He then pivoted on his left foot and shoved Lightning-Boy's head into the mud and muck. Instinictively, Patriot pulled out his knife from Lightning-Boy's hand and plunged it into Lightning-Boy's neck. Or, he would have, had Lightning-Boy been anything over than a boy. Patriot had killed children before, and was not looking to repeat the experience if he didn't have to. Instead, the blade landed right in Lightning-Boys back, missing all vital organs and simply serving as a suggestion to remain still. "Stay down. If you move, I won't miss your vitals next time."

[Shyftir]

Kyran fell back his skin turning bright red from the superheated air caused by the lightning-user's last ditch defense. He dropped his batons and stumbled for a second. The blast of wind nearly knocked him over as he reeled around. To add insult to injury, he was closer to the sonic attack then most of the others. He fell to the ground covering his ears and screaming in response. When the sound cleared he looked upward at the grandly gesturing man who had floated out of the sky. he tried to bring up his powers but the mind-static was too much.

He slumped to the ground; he needed more time to recover, but he knew he had little. He slipped a throwing star out of his jacket's long sleeve. Covering the motion with a groan of pain and a writhing movement. He had fallen a bit to the right of his target, down and barely into the wind-caster's peripheral vision. He rolled to his knees head still grinding into the dirt apparently in pain. A split second later, he popped back and flung the ninja weapon with all the might he could generate with only back and arm muscles to power the throw.

Not watching to see the results of the desperate throw he rolled to his right and tried to stand quickly. He couldn't stay down in the dirt; he had to keep moving.

[TruorTupnm]

The Dragon, after telepathically informing people what he plans to do, flies off to check on the zapped guys and the crate of supplies. He waves farewell to your falling opponents, which plummet out of your sight. On your way down, you can see roads and some small towns, but you'll be landing several miles away from anything, in a barren zone, looking like one of those testing sites for nuclear weapons or somesuch.

Later, on the ground and when you're all together again, The Dragon glides towards you, carrying the pack of supplies that he had given to the now-fried agent. He drops it, then snaps his wings shut to land heavily next to it. In a growly but still fairly nasally voice, "Both of the guys were dead. That crate of supplies is done for, too. I managed to break it open, but everything looked pretty melted. These packs look pretty heavy, so I hope they've got everything we need, for now. I guess I'm staying in this form for a while, then." In the distance, your plane explodes. The Dragon shrugs and grins toothily, "Well, maybe they won't look too hard for survivors? Anyways, we should probably start heading for a road. See if we can get a ride. I don't wanna get hit by something out here."

Before you can get very far, you see the blonde and the mousy lady running towards you, long before they'll get to you, since there's nothing to block your sight out here. They're both looking half-crazed and shouting challenges. The Dragon ***** his head curiously for a second, then backs up, wings flapping, looking like he's thinking about taking off. Unfortunately, he trips on the heretofore-obscured-by-dust body of the average-looking one that, although, with the crater that it made, looks as if it should be dead, suddenly rises up with a gasp.

"You won't take us back!" she shrieks with an obvious yet strangely clear accent, just before launching herself at Flare, regardless of anyone in the way, since he was the one responsible for her fall. As the other two get closer, the blonde turns invisible, and the mousy-looking one jumps up and starts sliding towards you on a cushion of air inches from the ground. The invisible one is presumably hitching a ride, since you can't see her kicking up any dust.

[Angel of Nessus]

As soon as the flares splashed across the bubble below him, Vergil felt like he was about to pass out. He had used a tremendous amount of energy in the span of ten or so seconds, and feeling lightheaded and weak was not a good thing when plummeting from ten thousand feet. He spun about again, turning his back to the ground as he tried to catch his breath. As he passed the antagonistic women he called up a tiny swell of power, and with a radiant smile he kissed his hand and blew a flame towards them; rather than cast it as a deadly stream, he shaped it into a brightly burning heart that shone only for a few seconds.

Then he pulled the cord. Nothing happened.

Oh dear.

He found the emergency cord and the parachute opened- only there was a gash through one side.

"You've GOT to be kidding me!!" he screamed as the parachute began to flail about. He looked down and realized that though at a bit of a disadvantage, he was indeed slowing down. Not enough to survive landing, but slowly enough that he would remain solid matter rather than dusty red paste. There was only one thing for it, and he really didn't want to try in his current condition, but dammit he wanted to eat at least once more before the powers that be decided to play hockey with his spleen.

As Vergil approached the ground, he gathered energy in his aching hands and called forth a crimson circle between them. From that gate he let forth a powerful stream of flame at an angle, low on heat and high on force. It slowed his descent and put him in an angled trajectory. He landed hard, but managed to roll with it and, so far as he could tell, keep his bones intact.

His coat was covered in dust though, and someone was going to pay for it in blood.

It took a few moments, but he stirred and slowly lifted himself from the ground with a pained groan. Though the colors of his outfit and his hair were dulled by the sand, his eyes were brighter than before- glowing red-orange with rage at the likelyhood of his situation. Damn you, physics.

He had not landed far from the others, and was more annoyed than startled when the remaining women began to charge. His attention was focused on the one that charged him directly- the one who seemed to rise from her own dusty grave. He couldn't pull off another spectacular stunt like he had in the air for a while; he had to do something relatively simple.

Vergil called up some of the last vestiges of usable energy he had to create a casting circle, a good five feet across, on the ground between himself and the charging woman. Once she stepped within it's fiery boundaries, he completed his spell, and a five foot tall wall of flame and force appeared around her. He dropped to his knee, panting at the effort of creating and maintaining the barrier. He would be able to maintain the circle as long as he did not expend much effort elsewhere; if he did, the wall would fade and he would likely pass out. He hoped it would be enough to keep her at bay, for now.

He's down to, like, 45-40%. At something like 30%, he loses consciousness.

[industrious]

The Reasonable Man plunges to one knee, the sound of the scream resonating in his very bones. His main gift is useless now, as the scream would drown out his voice, but he isn't out of the fight yet. Gritting his teeth, and willing himself to stand back up, the amnesiac reaches into the gesturer's mind, and replaces his partner's image with that of Metamorphisizer, a CIA-sponsored shapeshifter.

[Raz_Fox]

The next few seconds felt like they took weeks, and yet it was over all too fast. I pulled the parachute's ripcord and felt the sudden deceleration hard - I grunted as the wind was nearly knocked out of my lungs.

Roughly five feet off the ground, I shrugged out of the parachute restraints and dropped easily, letting the parachute come to earth as I scanned the area. Some of our attackers had still survived - but that was a secondary priority to ensuring the safety of my team. Pyro had already landed in what must be one of the most extravagant displays of power I'd ever seen, and Geno and Baptiste were fine. The kid could fly, so I wasn't too fussed about him.

Then I saw the daughters of mangy dogs pick themselves off the ground and start charging towards us. I raised both my pistols and calmly aimed for a moment, watching as the goldilocks disappeared and her partner started catching the currents. Thanks for showing me what you could do, girls - time for me to return the favor.

Didn't want to kill both of them - we needed one to get answers out of, and I doubted Pyro and the kid would leave the other one alive. The wind-riding lass was too heavy on her right: that's where the invisible woman would be clinging on to her. Probably standing, but even if she was kneeling her leg'd be in the same place. The wind-rider might have the ability to deflect a bullet, best fire twice at her left shoulder and right hip.

Took me about half a moment to figure out how to make the shot. Then, without even blinking, I shot them.

[TruorTupnm]

Invisible Lady goes down with a gurgle. Cap'n Cal got her right in the throat, since the lady was keeping low and close to her ride, who reacted by making a bubble around herself. After checking to see if she deflected all of the bullets, she gasped and saw that her companion had been killed. She expands her barrier to include the body, which she gathers and softly weeps over.

Inside Flare's barrier, the other woman grunts with frustration, then ducks her head and bursts through. The Dragon scrambles to his feet, streaming a jet of flame, which she just waves off, as if it's just a bad smell. Luckily, it still served to blind her to his charge, which ends in a grab for her head. He "Ack!"s with surprise when his claws don't even poke through her flesh, but after obtaining a bit of eye contact with her and projecting, "Alright! Gloves off!" She looks confused just before he slams both fists to burst her head like some variety of melon.

He breathes a blast of flame with a, "Phew!" offers Flare a hand up, then raises an eyebrow (some scales located where eyebrows would be?) at the only opponent still around, who is still weeping, sniffling things along the lines of, "She never did anything to you!" and, "We only wanted to get away!"

[Angel of Nessus]

The pyromancer lost his concentration as the woman burst through his fiery cage, and the spell broke. He collapsed and began to cough heavily- he could taste blood coming with each, spattering on the ground and dribbling from the corner of his mouth. His vision was red with what he suspected was more than just rage.

He didn't see what happened to the woman, but he heard what sounded like the dragony-Trey kid ending the fight with a bit of a struggle and a sickening crushing sound.

Vergil looked up to see the still and more or less headless form of the woman he had failed to imprison at the feet of the strange dragon-like teenager. The kid came over to his prone form, reached down with his clawed hand, and helped him to his feet.

"Nice... trick... kid," said Vergil with an uncharacteristically rough voice as he crouched in pain and dizziness. "Could use... some moisturizer... though. Skin's too... scaly... for the ladies." He chucked at that, which turned into another bloodied cough.

He turned to the weeping woman and wiped some of the blood from his face. "You gave up your right to 'get away'," he said with forced steadiness, "when you attacked us and killed our men, unprovoked and unannounced!" It was still too much to say right now, and he fell to his knees again as his head suddenly felt like a balloon.

[Cpt. Soup]

Things aren't looking good for the team. These freaks were tough contenders, even for the CIA's finest apparently. Alice watched the tide sway back and forth between her allies and the attackers, it was beginning to piss her off that she couldn't do anything in this situation but her best option was to preservve herself now as she'll doubtless be essential late-

At this moment one of the vapour freaks let loose it's catastrophic scream; unfortunately for Alice, she was close by the two. When the sonic resonance ripped through the water she was by no means unaffected. Alice clamped her hands up over her ears in desperation, she couldn't help but cry out in pain and even began cramming mud in her ears to escape from it.

When it finally ended, she sat up in a daze. It really couldn't be helped, she couldn't sit there as an observer now, she had to get involved. She wasn't safe! Who knows what other things these bastards could do!? She was going to make certain they weren't going to get an opportunity to demonstrate. ; The first vapour man seemed to be temporally out of action, presumably that scream probably have taken a lot out of it. Alice saw the other vapour man making gestures, and assumed another torrent of pain would shortly follow, but she wasn't about to stand for that.

Alice ripped the protective sealant off her watch. To hell with this! She thought; if this works, it would be well worth every minute of cleaning and unclogging. She flipped the targeter face of the watch and after taking painfully careful aim, she shot the tiny dart at the preoccupied vapour freak's back. (The gesturing one, that is)

[Raz_Fox]

As the Reasonable Man meddled with the mind of their assailant, Patriot took down lightning-boy. When knocked into the mud, the kid lays still and doesn't move - not even a groan of pain as the knife pierces his back.

Meanwhile, the gesturing figure saw - in his own eyes - his ally reveal their true form and leap towards him. Not at all what was really happening, of course, but it made the gesturer swing his arm out with a yell and focus his power on his ally. Seemingly defenseless, the screamer is knocked to the ground by the gusting winds, splashing into the rock-mud near Alice's position. The screamer moans softly and starts to stagger back up, pulling long black hair away from a face spattered with mud and blood.

However, Alice's dart still flies straight and true. The gesturing figure stiffens as it hits him, and he points his hands downward. He's bobbing up and down in the winds, and unfortunately Kyran's throwing star misses him by inches.

One down, two on the ropes. Take 'em down.

[Arq Kujos]

EDIT((To hell with it.))

Seeing the gesturing one go seemingly limp was all the sign that Simmons needed. He pulled his knife out of Lightning Boys back, exposing a steady flow of blood that would easily kill him if left untreated. Simmons didn't have time to think about that. He power sprinted toward the stiff yet still floating being and leap at him like a mad panther. He delivered a wild kick to the floating man's side, launching him towards the ground near Silver-Shock's feet. "Think you can handle this one?" he called out before dashing off to help pin down the other fallen foe.

[Raz_Fox]

Gorammit. I hadn't meant to kill that one, but what could you do? They'd started this fight, and by God they were going to pay for it.

I quickly glanced over to Pyro and the kid. Handy little trick of his had paid off, it seemed. Pyro looked bad, but it didn't look like he'd been injured. But still, best to check him after we finished this fight.

I stepped forward, watching her closely. It didn't seem like her abilities were intended for assault, and physically she was no match for me. Besides, I was the one with the guns.

"Lass, you've lost. You can't defeat us, you can't run from us, and you can't hold that up forever. I'll accept your immediate surrender, and we won't kill you. Or you could do something stupid and fatal. Your choice."

[TruorTupnm]

Mousy girl looks up from the body of her broken friend to gulp and gape at her captors. She blinks with confusion at their accents and stands, looking wobbly but wary. "Who are you? You weren't sent to bring us back?" Her eyes go wide with abrupt terror, and she crouches, looking ready to bolt but unsure of herself. "We have to escape! Let me go!" Her bubble expands jerkily, making her bounce and kicking up clouds of dirt. "They'll take me back! Salieva said she could get us away, but you killed her!" Just as abruptly as before, the bubble vanishes, and she staggers to the dirt, weeping and shuddering. "Don't take me back. I'll do anything you want. Just don't take me back."

The Dragon ignores Flare's jibe and steadies him when he falls. "Dang, man. Does this always happen to you?" He jumps and is about to rush over, when the mousy lady starts freaking out, but he stops short when she collapses. He looms over her, preparing to tackle her barrier, if she tries to fly off again. "Don't even worry about it. Just keep cool. Nobody's gonna take you back there." He tosses a querelous look at Cap'n Cal. "Uh, can you make a map or something? Tell us what's after you?" He gulps, when he considers that whatever is after her could be similar enough to his group to be mistaken for it. He didn't want to have to fight his way past these guys. Scanning the horizon for pursuers, he notices Flare again and indicates one of the packs. "Hey, are you gonna be okay? See what we've got for fixing you up."

[industrious]

The Reasonable Man looks at the other wounded foe. "Possibly."

Drawing his combat knife with inexperienced hands, the amnesiac thief attempts to stab the downed man with it.

[Shyftir]

Kyran stood up and looked at the foe laying at his feet. One glance was all he needed to make a decision. Kyran reared back and performed a technique from no real martial art at all. He swung his foot forward and kicked the injured enemy in his head like one would kick a soccer ball. Then he did it again, and again.

Satisfied that the man wasn't about to get up he retrieved his batons and then walked back over and sat on him. Smiling Kyran pulled a knife and waited there on top of his enemy, knife held near his exposed throat.

"I got us one to question!" Kyran piped up sounding cheerfully weary. The martial artist turned to Alice and spoke again."Hey Kid can you come over here and help me struss this guy up or something?" Silver-Shock knew that with a couple moments more rest he could jump back into the fray with Simmons. His mind was clear again and he would be able to call upon his powers to help finish things assuming "Patriot" didn't have the situation under control by then.

[Cpt. Soup]

Alice crawled hurriedly away from the adjacent screamer. Oh god she hoped he hadn't noticed her... Seeing special agent Simmons bull his way toward the unfortunate foe, Alice decided she wasn't quite far enough away just yet. She pulled herself up out of the slug and into the marginally more solid muck to catch her breath. She was feeling just a little in the blue again when Silver-Shock called her over. Regrettably, she happened to have a bundle of rope, and so Alice signalled acknowledgement with a raised hand while quickly trotting over to him. Glancing uneasily at the psychopath turned stool, she spoke up.

So.. do you know any knots Mr. Shock?

[Shyftir]

"Well, not much really but I was thinking a good tight standard knot would work fairly well. Assuming rope can hold somebody who can shoot lightning with his hands." Kyran shook his head as he spoke. Simmons was engaging enemies and here he was chatting with a teenager. "Can you keep him sedated or anything?"

[Raz_Fox]

Well, the combination of Patriot's impressive skill and the Reasonable Man's... less impressive, shall we say, wielding of a knife brings the third assailant down. [If RM was trying to kill, he's dead. If not, the bleeding means that he'll have little chance to survive.]

Meanwhile, Silver-Shock and Alice have found that his unfortunate opponent is rather unconscious. After all, he packs a lot of strength into those kicks. On a more interesting note is the fact that the screamer appears to be female - as far as one can tell under the mixture of blood, mud and shredded uniform.

The adrenaline's still pumping in your veins, but it seems that the team has won quite handily. It's rather unlikely that lightning-boy is still alive, but if you get the screamer out of the elements there's a good chance she won't die from infected injuries and exposure to the howling storm.

And now... you're in what appears to be a flat spot in the middle of sharp, jagged mountains. It's possible that you could find the crashed plane by continuing upwards, but there's also a crude dirt path leading further downwards. Visibility is too limited to see what's further down there, even for Patriot.

[Arq Kujos]

"WE NEED TO GET OUT OF THIS STORM!" shouted Patriot, trying to yell over the ever growing storm. Patriot went and checked on Lightning Boy, disappointed to see the young man dead. He shook off the shock and quickly ran over to the Reasonable Man and then regrouped with Silver-Shock and Shepherdess. "We need to get out of the wind, help her," he said, pointing at the sole survivor of the enemy team, "And we need to get off this damn mountain." Patriot reached down and lifted the unconscious woman in his arms. "Silver-Shock, I need you to help bring up the rear in case we get attacked again from any stragglers." With that, Patriot started down the mountain, hoping he could find some form of cave or other shelter.

EDIT: (Wait, is Redgrave still with us? Or is he missing? Or is Falconer just out of the game period?)

[TruorTupnm]

Heading down the path and getting soaked by the storm, you spot a bunker hugging the mountainside. It is perched to obtain a great view of what is east of the mountains, but which you can't see, due to the storm. No lights are on, that you can see. The screamer is still quite unconscious. The bunker is tiny, with one small door and large windows for the view.

[TruorTupnm]

A bone-chilling howl freezes everyone for a second, after which, the mousy lady makes a break for it, only to be stopped by Templar, where she starts gibbering again about getting taken back. The Dragon launches himself into the air and speeds away from the sound but doesn't get far before he glides back with a sheepish look on his face. "Ah, I found 'em. Just looks like a bunch of dogs. Scared me for a second, there." He waves a clawed hand to the east. "We should be able to see them soon. They're coming pretty fast. Is that all she was afraid of?" He peers at the lady and scoffs.

[Arq Kujos]

Patriot rolled his eyes for a moment and groaned. He tossed the still unconscious woman over his left shoulder and grabbed a gun he had holstered at his ankle in case of an emergency. "Reasonable Man. Take this gun. If we keep running into crazies you can't talk down, I need you to be able to do more than look at them funny." Patriot pulled his own pistol from his side holster and slowly made his way to the door. "Ok, I'm opening it. If any crazed zombies, commies, supers, or anything else comes out of there looking like they want a piece of us, put them down and down hard."

[TruorTupnm]

The door is, tragically, locked. As you attempt to open it, you hear something stirring inside. A glaringly bright light turns on, and you hear a sleepy, "Who is it?"

[Arq Kujos]

In his best Russian, "Let me in, comrade! It is storming outside like never before! Please! I am soaked to the bone out here."

OOC: It is Russian, we hear, correct?

[TruorTupnm]

More shifting, then you can hear someone at the door. "Alright, alright. I'm coming. Who is it? Why are you here?" A suspicious pause, then whoever's there moves away from the door. "I didn't hear of anyone coming, today. Why don't you have your own key?"

OOC: Yep. That's just myself forgetting that this party didn't get any superly convenient Babel fish caviar. But, hey, at least I didn't forget that your guy doesn't have the best stats for being tricksy. *insert rolling eyed smilie*

[Arq Kujos]

"Well, we got some strange readings from over on this side of the mountain, so a group of us were sent up here to investigate. It turned out that a tree fell and hit a sensor relay. While we were up here, a call came in to check on this area, just in case anything else suspicious happened. They told me they sent a call up not long ago. Maybe your comm relay is down and you don't know it? Or maybe the storm interfered with it. Who the hell cares!? Let me in! I'm freezing out here." Patriot hoped his bluff worked.

*If it was Babel Fish, then wouldn't it have translated it wrong and then offered to connect them to a live operator for a nominal fee?*

[TruorTupnm]

At the "we" you hear an, "Ulp!" and a scrabbling noise. "No, my comm is working. I can't let you in without authorization, though. If this is someone with a rank higher than corporal, I apologize, but you really should know better, sir!"

Meanwhile, Party A gets a good look at the dogs, which are regrettably large and robotic. The mousy lady is slumped and resigned to being taken by them. There are five of them, spread out but focused on the mousy lady and the bodies of her companions.

[industrious]

Taking the gun out of Patriot's hand, the Reasonable Man idles up to the door.

"You already have our authorization. Let us in." The amnesiac is not in the best of shape; his formerly pristine white suit is soaked and muddy and in tatters, and his tie would probably never recover. He'd convince everybody that it was still crisp later, when he had caught his breath, but still; he'd know. It just wasn't the same.

[TruorTupnm]

The corporal, "Huh"s with sudden realization and starts messing with the door again. "Sorry, sorry! I suppose you're right." As he opens the door, he shakes his head with confusion. "I don't remember hearing it, but I must have. There's not much room... Why didn't you just drive back to the base?" Inside, all there is is a long and complicated console, a few chairs, and an open restroom in the back. The corporal fiddles absent-mindedly with a pistol as he heads for the comm unit again.

[Arq Kujos]

Patriot took his pistol and aimed at the Corporal without making it obvious. Whispering to the Reasonable Man, "How long can you keep him under control?" Patriot sat the unconscious woman down in a chair after asking.

[TruorTupnm]

The corporal nervously whips back around at the whispering. "Oh. Uh, sorry. It must be the storm. Were you called out here suddenly, then? I don't see any uniforms." He hooks a thumb towards the restroom. "Clean up if you want. Is the rest of your team on their way? Ah, with a vehicle? Not much room here for all of us, as you can see." He jumps approximately a mile when the comm squawks. "Come in, Observation Post Two-Twelve! Be aware that we have confirmed one escapee in your sector!"

[Arq Kujos]

Patriot fired off a shot at the young Corporal, placing a shot between both his eyes. Patriot caught him before he hit the floor. He picked up the communicator and spoke in his Russian accent, adding a slight sickly sniffle to disguise the difference in voices. "Roger that, HQ. Its going to be hard to search for the escapee with the weather being so bad. Please advise on next course of action."

Edit: OOC: As always, if this is too op, please say so and I will alter it.

[industrious]

The Reasonable Man jumps at the sound of the shot. "Did you really have to kill him? I could have knocked him out, and taken his memory of us ever being here. It's just so...messy. And red."

[Arq Kujos]

Covering the communicator, Patriot turned to the Reasonable Man. "Sorry, it has a habit I picked up from all these missions I did in the past. It was unfortunate, but sometimes one death can save thousands, maybe millions of lives."

[Shyftir]

"I hate to say this, Ar-em, (RM) but Mr. Fortunate-Son here is right. On something this sensitive sometimes you gotta head off problems before they become problems. He's obviously not used to having someone with your kind of skills backing him up."

Kyran spoke firmly but kindly, that kind of cold-blooded killing didn't sit well with him either but instinct is instinct, and Patriot's had been honed to this kind of work.

"Hey, I know. Tell those guys we had an accidental weapons malfunction. They'll totally buy that." He quipped at Simmons as he sat down.

[TruorTupnm]

From the comm ---> "Hold your position and report back immediately, if you spot something. She is a small woman, would be unassuming, but we believe that her powers are out of control. Keep your distance. She has an unknown amount of control over the air around her. Report back every twenty minutes! We have sniffers on her tail, but she may still evade them. HQ out."

As the comm goes silent, the lights switch off and the door snaps shut, locking Shepherdess out. In the meager glow of the console's lights, you see the two empty chairs launch themselves at Special Agent Simmons and Reasonable Man. The chair with the screamer rolls towards the restroom.

[Arq Kujos]

-To the comm. "Rodger that. Over and out."

[Shyftir]

Kyran saw the chairs launch themselves at his compatriots. He cleverly deduced that this was not a good thing and did something about it. Kyran's skin was suddenly covered with lines of force shining silver in the darkness and compensating for the lack of light quite nicely. He leaped at the chair that was rolling toward the restroom and delivered a simple sidekick knocking it over and hopefully slowing it's journey toward the small dirty room.

"Hide and seek, eh? We have ways of sniffing you out, comrade." Kyran began to let excess energy leak off his skin. It was not enough to harm anyone but hopefully the inevitable ripples in the lines of force would clue him in on the source of the attack.

[TruorTupnm]

The chairs flying towards Special Agent Simmons and Reasonable Man strike their targets. Simmons grunts. Reasonable Man falls over. A sharp hiss of pain is heard as Silver-Shock turns himself into the first sentient bug zapper. The screamer in the chair that he knocked over groans and looks as if she's about to come to. Feeling for the source of the attack with his power, he only learns how geared up his companions still are, how active the dead corporal's body still is, and how many insects have managed to invade the outpost.

Apparently coming from everywhere, a pained and heavily-accented voice rants, "You cannot hope to best me! Lay down your weapons, and I will let you leave!" Special Agent Simmons is apparently gripped by the ankle (by nothing that Silver-Shock can feel moving) to be flipped onto the floor, straps on his gear start being loosened, and he can feel something rifling through his pockets. "But not this one! He killed my friend! He said that he would help me escape!"

[Arq Kujos]

"Escape!? If you want to escape, maybe we could help with that. America is always looking for a few more patriots."

[industrious]

Grasping his leg in pain(was it broken? he didn't know; he didn't have any real experience with physical trauma), the Reasonable Man tries to discuss things with the unseen adversary. Too winded to use his gift, his words carry no power save for their meaning.

"Calm down. We're...just...trying...to...go...somewhere."

[Shyftir]

Realizing that his energy ripple technique wasn't working Kyran lets it drop and dives onto his hands and knees near RM. Kyran grunts as he forces the energy to flow into a more solid but smaller shield in attempt to guard himself and the older man.

"Hurry up, man I can't hold this long." Silver-Shock hissed through clenched teeth. "You've gotta talk this guy down."

[TruorTupnm]

Focused on Special Agent Simmons, the voice scoffs, "Ha! Why would I trust you, who kill and lie as easily as you breathe?" Everything that Simmons has been carrying on his gear starts popping out, then sliding across the floor, towards the screamer and the restroom. Simmons can see and can't help tossing a look of consternation at the floor as a fist apparently made of shadow warps out of it to knock him back towards the others.

The shadows surrounding the circle of light that Silver-Shock gives off writhe. "What are you doing?! Leave me alone!" The voice growls and moans, then you see the screamer being poked by shadows. The screamer brushes them away as she wakes up, with a hand to her head. "Ugh! Where am I?"

[Arq Kujos]

"Now that your friend is dead, do you really have a choice?"

[TruorTupnm]

Possibly recognizing the group as the one she'd been fighting before and possibly just ready to attack anybody, the screamer glances at the items strewn around her feet but doesn't pick any up, preferring to employ her power again, which seems even more painful, in an enclosed space. The large windows shatter. As the scream and pain starts to die down, Simmons feels his pistol attempting to break free of his hand, but meeting a decent amount of resistance, it stops, and anyone with the presence of mind to notice notices a shadow independent of its body hop outside and start sliding away. Anyways, the screamer stands shakily, and as she's beginning to run out of breath, she backs nervously away, finding herself in the restroom.

Meanwhile, The Dragon hauls Flare and the pack he'd indicated onto his shoulders and demanded of the mousy lady, "What are these things? They look like dog-bots. I hate dog-bots. Anything special about these?" He waves the others back, as the dogs close in. One, however, sits up straight and starts making an electric whining noise. Cap'n Cal snipes that one's head off with a couple of shots, since the first bounced off of its tough armour. The mousy lady gasps with surprise and hope at that, and stood to announce, "I don't know. We just knew that they were after us. They may have already reported back. Oh! Are you escapees, too? You don't look like it." She ducks, wails, and tentatively bounces on air, though, when two dogs rush at them. Templar, wielding his sword now, steps in the way, but the dogs are apparently merely herding them towards the mountains.

[Arq Kujos]

"If you want to escape and live your own life, then stop this!" Patriot had been trying to maintain his calm as the shadowy force pinned him, trying to reason with his ethereal foe. By reaching for his gun, the shadowy being had crossed a line. Patriot grabbed his pistol struggling against whatever force was trying to grab it. He looked towards the screamer lady and with abated breath said, "I saved you! No on should be forced to serve these madmen! If you kill us, you'll never be free!" One last attempt at diplomacy before Patriot was left with no choice.

[industrious]

"Ow..." Clutching his head in agony, the Reasonable Man uses the pain to move himself into action. Chapped lips move while a hoarse and inflamed vocal chords form sounds that, nonetheless, sound perfectly obvious and logical.

"Wait. Please. I have something important that I must tell you."

[TruorTupnm]

OOC: Okay, a reaction to keep holding onto the pistol makes sense. Shadow Dude wouldn't have been able to slink off with it, then. I edited my post.

IC: Bumping into the toilet, the screamer stops and looks around in a manner similar to that in which a cornered animal would. She starts taking a deep breath to attack again but stops and listens raptly to Reasonable Man. Having slipped through the window, the shadow slips from cover to cover, heading down the mountain.

[Shyftir]

Kyran attempts to fire a burst of energy after the rogue shadow, but is unable to summon it up quickly, partially due to his own tiredness and partially due to the screamer's instinctive attack.

Kyran drops the shield and cradles his head. The throbbing ache, a result of prolonged concentration and sonic attack, takes a few minutes to subside during which Kyran while not fully incapacitated does little more than sit up against the nearest wall and wince.

[industrious]

"Now listen very, very carefully..." With the butt of his new revolver, the Reasonable Man clubs the screamer on the head, knocking her out.

"See? Nobody gets killed, nobody dies. Everybody wins."

[Arq Kujos]

(Has the shadow fled the building?)

[TruorTupnm]

OOC: Yep. Although, Silver-Shock might still be keeping an eye on him. Anyways, don't you people care about possible brain damage for your captives? *sniff*

[Arq Kujos]

*She already received brain damage.......FROM COMMUNISM!*

Patriot stood up and brushed the glass off of himself. "Well, I offered to help that shadowy bastard, but if that is how he wants to be, then fine." Patriot re-holstered his pistol and then checked on his comrades. "Is everyone alright?" he asked outloud. He walked over to the unconscious woman that the Reasonable Man knocked out. "We need to get her back on her feet. Maybe we can use her to start convincing the others to join us. Without his army of cookie cutter super soldiers, Pyropus will be as good as dead." Patriot pulled out a first aid kit from his back pack. He also pulled out his canteen. "I'm going to wake her up. I want you to keep her calm. If she gets out of hand, I'll knocked back out and we'll tie her up until can get her out of here. Agreed?"

[Shyftir]

"Seems like a plan. Maybe we should let the girl in?"

Kyran grimaced as his headache began to fade slowly. He grabbed one of the chairs and sat it up then sat down hard. Breathing deeply he tried to recover as quickly as possible. This day had kicked the tar out of him.

[Arq Kujos]

*I'm guessing Capt. Soup is gone, so I'm going to ignore that last remark.*

Carefully, Patriot pulled out his flask and took a drink of it. Then, he gently slid it under the noise of the unconscious woman. Speaking in Russian, he carefully told to her to wake up and that she was safe.