ArchivedLogs:Blast Off

Blast Off
Dramatis Personae B, Ion, Isra, Kay, Regan, Teague	2015-10-12 "There should be no surprises."
Location <DC> Department of Homeland Security Headquarters
The newly completed, multi-billion-dollar government complex is a sprawling brutalist ediface of glass and steel scarring the riverside in southeast. It has three immense parallel wings, and skyways connecting it to an equally excessive parking garage. SUVs patrol the grounds, still muddy from the final stages of construction where the landscaping has not yet completed. CCTV cameras watch from every conceivable corner, in some places to nearly comical excess. At the moment, the shiny new headquarters are largely abandoned. Weekend essential staff and security go about their work, quiet and for the most part unseen. The lights remain on inside the massive complex, illuminating it to good dystopian effect as the sun goes down over the Potomac River. It's dinner time and a shift change is coming, to the delight of some personnel and the chagrin of others. A dark SUV is just pulling up along a nearby street. With the evening growing crisp Regan is dressed warmly, light grey sweatshirt, black cargo pants, boots. Never much of one for pep talks, as she kills the engine and swivels around to grab her bag from behind her her caution is only quick, her usual: "Don't get killed." Maybe her usual. But it widens B's eyes large, has hir gills fluttering open wide, once. The sharkpup is similarly dressed, right now, hoodie and jeans and boots, a black cap pulled down over hir spiky hair. Ze is unloading a small /swarm/ of tiny bug-robots to follow Regan out a side door, but pauses to swallow hard and give the others a long hard look. "... please don't?" Jewel turns away as he secures a black ski-mask over his face, careful to tuck his tight, braided chignon in underneath. The garment leaves only his eyes visible, which reveal very little of his current anxiety levels. The rest of the teen's clothing is form-fitting but free for movement. Upon any close inspection, odd-angled bulges jut out from hard greaves over his shins, well as similar plating over his forearms. He lets out a slightly nervous breath in response to the others. Ion just grins, here. Briiight and toothy. He's tugging his balaclava down over his face, otherwise dressed in long-sleeved grey tee over kevlar vest, jeans, boots. He pauses en route out of the car to thump B on the back. "Leetle-shark, we be back here 'fore you know it." Behind him, Kay is similarly garbed. He pauses in the kiss he /was/ blowing towards Regan to instead lay a SMACK on B's forehead before swinging his gangly way down out of the truck. Ion beckons everyone nearer him. Throws his arms out wide, inviting. "Come on come on. People grab a hold, we goin' for a ride now, yeah?" He looks positively gleeful about this. Isra unfolds herself from the vehicle, her body a curious mottled gray. Without an extremely close examination, one could not say where her bodysuit ends and her skin begins, though here and there one might discern the shapes of armor plates. She turns and wraps one wing around B's shoulders, the matte-black talons on those long phalanges curling around to dig lightly into the sharkpup's side. "Very well," she replies softly, nonchalantly, as though agreeing to stop by the store on her way back for some odds and ends. Then she dons her own mask, with additional cutouts added for the black horns spiraling up from her head--no disguising those, or her long, tapered tail. She stretches her wings and then folds them in tight again, resting one long-fingered hand on Ion's shoulder and gripping tight. Regan scoops up B's botswarm. Tucks them into her duffelbag, before taking hold of Ion's wrist. "We'll have you on comms," she doesn't so much reassure B as offer the quiet reminder. Tugs down her own mask. "There should be no surprises." The fluttering of B's gills calms, though the furrow in her brows doesn't. She pulls in a deep breath, closing the doors of the truck behind the others. Reluctantly. Only a very /tiny/ hrrrrf. /She/ settles back into the back of the truck, setting up hir holographic workstation and -- maybe hrrfing a liiiittle bit more. Thankfully nobody has earpieces until /after/ Ion's done zapping them in. Jewel extends a hand to press against the middle of Ion’s bicep. Remaining quiet, he wraps his fingers around to get as good of a grip as he can while his eyes flick up, half-expecting something to happen instantaneously. As soon as everyone is holding on tight -- Jewel's expectation is rewarded, it /is/ fairly instantaneous. The reward, admittedly, is the world going black, a dizzying feeling, an unpleasant jolting. And then they are dispensed -- somewhere right into the middle of the building. Where /exactly/, who knows, Ion's aim is -- well, they're lucky to be in the building at all, really. (To be honest, he was aiming for the front door.) Freshly arrived security personnel perfuse through the building as the shift changes, settling into their posts. No one seems to take note of the brief flicker of the lights in such a new building, and the intruders' abrupt arrival in an abandoned employee cafeteria goes unseen (at least for the moment) save by the ever-present cameras. Recovering quickly, Isra breaks off from the group to secure the exits, switching on her communication device as she goes. She hesitates at the door, closing her eyes to listen and breathe deeply. "Are we clear to start opening doors?" Her subvocalization, as usual, comes from the lower set of vocal folds as a low, growly bass. There's a few moments of pause to collect herself. Steady her legs after the zapping, take a couple deep breaths. Then Regan is unzipping her bag -- at the moment, though, mostly just to free B's swarm of bots, let them up into the air. Then extract small earpieces for everyone, tucking her own up under her mask into her left ear once she has doled them out. With some concentration, her telepathic awareness expands, focusing outward. Nodding at Teague and Isra, then pointing to a door on the north side. "We're clear. Ion, you're getting better at aiming." Her low voice sounds more amused than impressed. The bots hum quietly up into the air, scattering first to all the exits -- though, silently, /they're/ starting to send out signals -- friendly ones, cloned from the Sentinels B has been working with -- to the building's network, feeling it out and probing their way inside. "You're one floor too low. Or, well, /I'm/ one floor too low. Please don't fry my bugs, Ion." B's voice in their ears is quiet and clear. "Give me a minute -- well, give Dusk a minute, anyway, I can't see the cameras yet." Maybe a couple minutes. It takes a bit before: "-- Alright, we've got eyes on you now. Follow the red bot, it'll take you past the nearest patrol and up to the offices." The bug in question is zooming to the door Regan had indicated. While the others get their bearings, Jewel does as well. After securing his own earpiece, the willowy mutant pads stealthily over to the north entrance. With one forearm poised up as a ready defense, the other gives the cafeteria door’s push-handle a gentle nudge. Opening it just wide enough to allow his body, and the bug, to slip through. Spinning on the ball of his foot, he presses his back against the outside wall and surveys the new surroundings. Kay's rough bark of laughter comes swift on the heels of Regan's compliment. "Getting better at throwing the /brakes/." Well used to Ion's disorienting mode of transit by now, he is quick to recover, reorient, follow after B's redbug at a lope. Ion's eyebrowwaggle sadly can't be seen beneath his mask. ALAS. "{Was trying to put us downstairs, mama.} You be lucky we on the right block, shit." Unlike the others he doesn't take an earpiece. His -- never last very long. His eyes light when the bug starts moving. "Shit we got our own Tinkerbell already." His gravelly voice comes at a rough whisper. He is quick on Kay's heels, reaching up towards the bug like he wants to CATCH IT -- but pulling his hand back. Kind of guiltily. Though Isra's mask hides her expression, she gives Ion an affectionate tap to the arm as he passes. Good work. She allows the others pass her and takes up the rear, ears twitching constantly, eyes mostly pale green against the unnecessary lights. The long, empty hallways look somehow vaguely sinister under harsh white flourescent lighting. Cameras stare down from every corner and every doorway, but no guards cross the team's path. Only three pairs even come within range of Regan's telepathy. The other patrols on B's view of the cameras go about their business as bored and complacent as before. The Mutant Affairs Division occupies the entire wing on this level, and does not /look/ particularly secure. The reception area is expansive, airy, and does not even have a door. Beyond this, various offices and cube farms branch off from the long, wide central hallway that runs the length of the wing. The Registry has its /own/ reception area, /with/ a sliding plate glass door that does not open of its own accord. Jewel takes a bold step towards to the glass door with the full intention of breaking it, only to have it whirr open on its own. He throws the others a confused frown before moving on through into the Registration Office's reception area. "Ladies first," he purrs, taking point on entering the room once again. Kay claps a hand onto both Teague and Isra's shoulders -- briefly -- on his way in. "You ready for a party?" The mention of party puts a fervent light into Ion's eyes. "Aw shit tinyone, hermanita, shitshit," now he's snatching at one of the bugs, nabbing it out of the air to whisper /at/ it as though this is necessary for B to hear him. "Do these, can these, you can play a music? Some party music? To do by? How we gonna work without no soundtrack huh?" He uncups his hands to free the robot into the air again, bopping his head and jostling at Teague and Regan. "-- got all my people with me --" It's the only thing audible from him before a brief zap has him disappearing, reappearing on the far side of the room. Head still bopping. "They will not have left this place unguarded, even at such an hour." Isra's ears perk up all the way as she stalks through the doors. She speaks with both of her voices, the lower one like a quiet, low echo of the higher. "If there are no guards here, we must assume they have Sentinels." Her eyes skip around the room, unblinking, and her tail lashes the air behind her with great violence. "So we had best get to smashing before they show up, music or no." This atrium is cozier and more plush, with upholstered seats in the waiting area and brushed steel magazine racks full of crisp, serious-looking periodicals. Beyond the front desk, separated from it by a frosted plate glass half-wall, is the open expanse of a pristine, unpeopled cube farm bristling with flat-screen monitors and high-backed ergonomic chairs. To either side are smaller hallways leading to conference rooms, private offices, break rooms, a server room, and quite a large number of utility closets. On B's cameras, the nearest two pairs of security guards have just stopped to speak to their wireless transceivers, but afterwards they continue on their patrol as if nothing at all were amiss. "So put them hands up higher --" Kay's grin is not quite as manic as Ion's -- more a /ferocious/ baring of teeth as he twines his fingers together, pushes his knuckles outwards. And pushes a blast of heat outwards with it, rippling dry in a mostly concussive ball of searing flame and smoke to tear through the nearest desk to him. Its monitor scatters into melted-burst shards, the desk twisted and crumpled and not much left of its chair. Ion's eyes are lively and bright, his hair starting to stand on end and the air around him faintly crackling. He vanishes again -- but there's a crackle soon after from one of the closet doors, a pop of blue-white light, smoke beginning to curl out from beneath it and then its neighbor. Isra stalks up to the receptionist's desk as if meaning to sign in despite the hour, but instead she casually lifts the rolling chair from behind it and hurls it through the plate glass wall. With one powerful downward stroke of wings, she hurls herself aloft--if briefly, given she only has so much vertical clearance--bounding through the ruined glass to the cube farm beyond, leaving a trail of smashed and upended office equipment in her wake. B's drones suddenly register twenty-four (then, a few seconds later, only twenty-three) extra wireless transceivers in the offices, clustered into five groups. Their IDs are nonsensical strings of letters and numbers. On the cameras, the security guards in the building /do/ react now, forming into larger teams and taking up positions at choke points with an ease that can only come from drilling. If Ion spares any attention from his rampant destruction, he will notice a sudden surge of electricity behind half a dozen utility closet doors nearby, including the one through which he has just passed. Those with sensitive hearing may, in the lull between the crashing and exploding, pick up the hum of additional electrical servos, the soft /kssh/ of automatic doors sliding open, and then the synchronized tramp of mechanical feet as the Sentinels deploy from most (but not all) of the nearby utility closets. These are not painted white, nor do they walk with the plodding old-time sci-fi gait of the EMS Sentinels. Their armor is some sort of glossy silver alloy. Their movements, though still distinctly mechanical, come very near to matching human speed. They do not speak, do not give politely worded warnings. They only lift their arms and take aim. "... You've got incoming. Twe... no, two dozen --" B hesitates after this, not quite sure for a moment before clarifying hastily: "-- murderbots. Uh. Pleasedon'tdie. Guards are starting to block off your exits. Well. Not /Ion's/ exits." Though many of hir bots have taken off for the server room, hir bugs are rapidly recalibrating, honing in on the signals from the unfamiliar upgraded Sentinels to try and tap into those. "How much more time do you need, B?" Regan ducks through the broken plate window, slipping behind one of the rows of cubicles as the Sentinels' footfalls begin. << Duck. >> Broadcast to her team, as a small handheld grenade is flung from behind the desks to thud down into the midst of one of the groups of incoming bots. A heater-shaped shield materializes on Jewel's arm. Thin, sharply pointed, and diamond, it reflects the office's artificial light in lovely speckles all around them. In a fluid little prance, Jewel follows Regan through into the room of cubicles. Not trying to be far behind, he skitters up the row of small, sad desk spaces. And he doesn't have to be told to duck twice. Crouching down at her side, he holds his shield up to block any debris. Is Ion ducking? It's hard to tell if Ion is ducking; there's not much to be seen of him. He might be in a wall. Ceiling? Floor? Who knows. Possibly the Sentinels know, because the building's power -- /and/ theirs -- is very suddenly, very sharply, being sucked in. Pulled in. DRUNKEN in greedily. Kay /vaults/ over a row of desks, nominally obeying Regan's instructions -- nominally. It's only a lackadaisical kind of ducking, though. Shielded from the soon-to-be shower of debris, though not overly concerned about heat and flame -- he pauses, twisting before he drops behind the desk, to add his /own/ second burst of heat to Regan's grenade. One arm pitching out like he's lobbing a bowling ball -- if, perhaps, that bowling ball were explosive. On fire. Rolling towards a group of bots with one eye squinting shut and one foot bracing back behind the other. Aiming for a strike? One can only hope. The rippling wall of force that shimmers out together with his blast is strong enough, at least, to knock /back/ lesser projectiles that might be ensuing. Isra spins around to face the newly emerged foes, throwing the computer case she holds into the nearest one in a bid to make dominoes out of it and its nearest comrades. Then, at Regan's warning, she promptly ducks behind one of the desks she had just overturned a moment ago. The computer case Isra flings smacks into the Sentinel's chest and tips it onto its backside, but it does not fall hard enough to take out the one behind it. Ion's disruption of the building's power does not make B's job any easier, and it seems to send the human guards into some confusion. The lights overhead dim violently, and some of the Sentinels (oddly) handle the power drain better than others. It's all rather moot for the ones Kay's fireball knocks down, as they crumble into one glowing pile with melted plastic oozing grotesquely from their armor joints. Regan's grenade going off punctuates the chaos of fire, electricity, shimmering light, occasional flying equipment (Sentinels included), and the music still blaring from B's drones. The blast ruins the first two Sentinels in the group nearest her and knocks over the two further back, peppering the entire office with shrapnel and utterly shattering the remaining plate glass in the atrium. When the team's hearing returns, they might distantly hear the whump-whump-whump of a military helicopter on rapid approach. "Nnh." There's an unhappy edge to B's voice, once it can be heard again. "We're still --" There's a crackle, a brief loss of signal. "-- But you've got even more guards incoming. Should get out of there before --" Another crackle. Regan crouches behind Teague's shield, hands pressed over her ears to muffle the blast. "Kay, the servers." There's a small mental nudge to Teague that comes with a brief mental picture of the dozen+ Sentinels still standing. There's an echoed hint of mental suggestion: << (don't get killed) >> -- though, transferred, it's more encompassing now. Don't let him get killed? << Your shield is strong. >> Chewing his bottom lip, Jewel pushes off. Shield up, he tucks and rolls across the aisle to meet Kay. “The servers,” he repeats in a breathy pant, backing up against the man with the diamond buffer raised, “I’ve got you.” << Hey. Mama. How many flatscans we got circling us. {You steer me right, three seconds I'll be back to you.} >> Maybe more than three seconds, because Ion -- reappearing in the doorway of one of the utility closets that had disgorged the sentinels, has stopped, sparks crackling across his skin and a hard tensed energy to his muscles. An energy that he's about to digorge in the form of a fierce lightning-blast towards the back of the nearest two bots, searing bright through the air before it -- and he -- vanishes again. He shows up on B's cameras nearly in the same moment -- juuust behind one of the groups of guard teams. "Deep breaths, boys." The thin baring of teeth that Kay gives Jewel is nevertheless clearly a smile. "You got me in /style/." Approving. He sticks close to Jewel, pushing forward -- not /to/ the server room, quite, but near it. Near enough that the solid fiery /blast/ he shoves into it -- one and then another, shattering equipment into twisted torn melted scrap -- churns the inside of the room into a bright inferno. Isra leaps back over the desk behind which she had sheltered and, lifting one of the lately fallen Sentinels, throws it at the closest bots to Kay and Teague still operational. Then she pins down another damaged Sentinel with one long, taloned foot and, stooping, rips its metal head from its neck. To B, struggling for control of the Sentinels' startlingly secure command privileges, the network on which they operate experiences a sudden increase in activity. The (umarked) helicopter hovers outside the destroyed glass of the Registry offices' main floor, its floodlight sweeping the battlefield and blinding any eyes not averted. The minds of the aircraft's crew, though sensible to Regan, feel...odd. Evasive. The Sentinels change tactics and actually start taking cover, moving to divide the group of intruders. They take position behind Teague and Kay, cutting off their retreat (at least on foot). The Sentinel under Isra's foot struggles, and manages to raise its gun arm to bear and fire even as she begins to tear its head off. But there's no hail of bullets, only a soft hiss and a dart that embeds itself in her leg. The only immediate effect she feels is a powerful nausea. Across the offices, the same thing is happening: Sentinels switching to the non-lethal armaments they evidently still have and concentrating their attacks on Teague and Kay from multiple directions. Down at the chokepoint, well away from the fire and chaos, the security guards stumble away from Ion when he appears, one of them immediately begins shouting into his transceiver, "Bravo-6, we have a code X repeat code X requesting immediate reinforcement!" Back in the MAD offices there are suddenly two additional human figures standing amongst the smashed desks and ruined computers in the wake of the flood light's sweep. They are outfitted in high-end military body armor and wearing helmets with full face plates. To Regan's senses, their (slippery!) minds vanished from the interior of the helicopter and appeared almost instantaneously some 30 feet away. Though some of B's bots are obliterated in the server room's inferno, quite a few more are lingering in the offices outside. Though their music has changed, now, "Turn Down for What" pumped through their speakers instead as they continue to chip away at the Sentinels' digital defenses. "Dusk says he's good. Uh, we're good. You can get. Out. Ohmygod Ion. They're gonna need an evac -- got other teleporters rolling in." Two of hir bots have skittered forward, spraying a sticky webbing of thick white glue towards the face plates of the helmeted people who just arrived. "Ion --" It's hard to read much into Regan's tone, through the shooting and explosions, her voice brief and quiet in the others' ears. A slow breath in, before her mental energy focuses. Fixing in on Ion, on the other psionic signatures in the building, directing him to the teams of guards at their chokepoints. A small hiss of breath escapes her when the pair enters the room. The hiss grows as she tries to focus in on their minds; fails. The tiny bugbots in front of the two newly-arrived guards suddenly appear to start -- growing. Bigger. Muuuuuch bigger. Expanding into an enormous jewel-toned pair of mantids half again the size of the soldiers, mandibles dripping (with an acid that hisses and spits, searing holes into the ground where it falls), sharply bladed forelegs gleaming with knifelike spikes. Clickclickclick, the sound of their chomping mandibles echoes oddly louder than it /should/ in the very noisy room. Their forelimbs snap outward to clasp around the guards, immensely strong where they move to pin arms to sides. “Some sort of tranquilizers,” Jewel guesses aloud, yelling past the ringing in his ears. Letting out a feminine grunt of exertion as he flourishes the shield in an attempt to deflect the spray of darts coming their way. Using the unseen diamond greaves along his shins to block the pyromancer’s legs, the Brit curves to better match the other man’s posture, “I hope you’ve got a lot more firepower where that came from! Time to mash these fuckers up!” "Nah nah nah we good bro." Ion's cheerful tone is maybe not reassuring to the guards. Especially given that in the very next moment he is vanishing -- a flicker of blue-white energy as he reaches for the nearest guard -- who vanishes along /with/ him. Then another-another-another... until the hall is empty. Wherever they reappear, it's /far/ away from the fire and chaos and the building entirely; when Ion appears again on B's cameras to repeat this act, he's empty-handed, back for another set of guards to continue clearing the floors around them. By the time he pops back into place amid the /actual/ chaos, the cameras around their party just show empty floors. He looks frazzled, shakier, the skitter of sparks around him /notably/ grown, an increasingly restless jitter to his hands. His gravelly voice is kind of thicker when he speaks, sounding as though it comes through clenched teeth. "Oh fuck Thea still helping us from the goddamn grave." Somehow there's a reverence in this warm tone. "Come on, party people you limo waiting." "Sss." Kay's hiss is brief, at the mention of tranquilizers; the next blast he unleashes is bigger, reverberating through the room as it crashes through. "They'll fucking neuter you if they can. I could do this --" He rests a feverishly warm hand on Jewel's shoulder, falling into movement with the other man as he twists around. Slams a wave of heat back towards the nearest bots. "Looks like our ride's here, bro." His hand claps down on Jewel's shoulder; he stays by the other man's side as he starts to head back towards Ion. Isra snarls and throws the severed Sentinel head aside. She fights the nausea back but the flood light blinds her and she staggers, probably not dodging the next round of darts to any great effect. Still, she knocks another Sentinel aside on her way back to Regan, and when she ducks back behind cover she looks furious and winded, but not too much worse for wear. When she sees bots are focusing their efforts on Teague and Kay, she growls low and looks about to launch herself at the rear of the Sentinels' ranks. The heat and light of Kay's attacks, however, keep her at bay, as well. The taller of the two helmeted soldiers throws out a hand as if to stop the bots' webbing. And does so. The sticky mess parts in the air, its trajectory foiled by an invisible force that also rocks the drones themselves in their flight. When they start transforming into giant murderbugs, however, the soldiers look *somewhat* less sanguine about their chances, and both of them abruptly vanish as if simply clipped from the fabric of reality. They reappear a split second later flanking Teague and Kay, whose shield and flame-blast alike are focused at the attacking Sentinels, and the taller one once again pushes out his hand. The telekinetic shove is easily powerful enough to knock the two men apart, even if they do not lose their footing altogether. Three of the remaining Sentinels immediately shift their aim to Kay solely as soon as he is pushed out from the shelter of Teague's diamond shield. One Sentinel, melted from the waist down but still nominally functional, turns toward Ion as he gawks at the spectacle of Regan's bug-monsters. It lifts its arm, aims, and fires once. There's an increased clicking from the giant bugs. A rapid skitterclick of feet against floor; they move with alarming speed towards the soldiers. Not wasting time with trying to subdue, this time, /they/ flank the telekinetic. Their knifelike forelimbs shoot outwards, aiming to skewer straight through the soldier's chest with very little regard for trivialities like body armour. Regan, meanwhile, darts out from behind her cover once Ion is close. Her teeth jolt together once she makes contact with the electrokinetic, muscles tensing. "Get ready," is her quiet order to B, "we'll be back with you in a second." Thrown from his dance with Kay, Jewel pulls his shield into himself too quickly. The sharp edge slices open the fabric covering his thigh, leaving a clean red gash in his flesh. The boy gasps, rolling into an elegant recovery. Training himself to the ground, Jewel motions flamboyantly and aggressively with his free hand to produce sparkles -- but it's a distraction -- his other hand curls around to spin the heater-shield forward like a discus. He follows through with the pitch, releasing it at whichever of the opposing mutants that he can lock his attention onto first. "Ey Bling, Firebug, hermanos, we vamanos. Party done, now we /afterp/-- hhnngh." Ion is throwing a hand out, not firing but draining, a ripple of energy charging the air as he draws from the Sentinels still standing. His words cut off with the sharp sting of dart in his leg, though; he drops his hand almost irritably to /bat/ it out. << {Oh-god-no-fuck --} >> "Hermanos," it's not quite /panic/ in his voice but there's a certain urgency as he flings a hand out towards Kay, /lunging/ with Regan in tow to grasp out towards Jewel, "we go, now-now-/now/." Though the sting of the darts that speckle Kay's arm aren't in and of themselves all that great, the pyrokinetic briefly doubles over -- more from the sudden hit of nausea than pain. Behind him, the flames briefly roar higher. There's a surge of heat around him, rippling in fierce waves that make the air in his vicinity briefly shimmer before he regains his footing to take a few staggering steps nearer the group. The telekinetic soldier cries out and stretches one hand toward each bugmonster in a bid to shove them back, but to no avail, as the insubstantial illusions prove to physical attack. Teague's shield, however, is plenty solid and plenty sharp...and hidden from the soldier's sight by the body of a giant insect. The gleaming diamond edge of the disk slices into his torso exactly between the armor plates on their chest and abdomen. The illusory disemboweling becomes real disemboweling, though by the pitch of the shrieking it all feels about the same to the victim. The smell of blood and innards blooms to join the vile stench of burning plastic and the thick miasma of ozone in the offices. The intense blast of flame from Kay downs yet another Sentinel, whose numbers are growing sparse indeed. Heedless of their comrades' grim fates, the remaining robots go on prioritizing their targets. Largely ignoring those who have already been hit, they their train arms toward Regan and Teague, now that both have lost their cover. The teleporting soldier spares one look in their buddy's direction and disappears again, not to the dying telekinetic but to Kay's side, flinching from the intense heat around the pyrokinetic. They do not linger but for a second before blinking out, this time vanishing altogether from sight (and telepathy). Along with Kay. Ion's expression cannot be seen. But from the electrokinetic there's a rough angry snarl/, a very unpleasant jolt for him and all those connected to him -- blipping briefly out of existence to reappear where Kay just was. The ride is far more jarring than usual, a twisting jolting shock of gut-punch agony that doesn't /quite/ end immediately once they are back on the floor. "{-- No fuck /no/} --" Isra snaps her wing out wide, shielding the others if only the darts do not simply pierce the tough leathery membrane. When Kay's wall of fire resurges, she averts her eyes to avoid being blinded yet again, gripping Ion's shoulder tightly in one hand when the flames lick her wings. She looses a startled and truncated growl when Ion teleports and drags her along, and when they recoalesce she casts her gaze around. "Where...?" When she notices only one of the soldiers remaining--the dying one--she evidently pieces together what happened, for she roars at the top of her lungs. But then her talons dig into Ion's shoulder with a terrible urgency. "Ion, no!" The lower of her two voices cracks and drops out, leaving her sounding small and anguished. Her other arm wraps around the electrokinetic, as if she could physically hold him back from haring off to look for Kay. "We /must/ go, now!" There's a sharp growl rumbling through their earpieces. Only a few of the bots remain intact, but they flutter down, collecting themselves on Regan's shoulders. "Ion," B's voice is noticeably shaky, very small. "Ion, who knows what dose those things are carrying. Please, I need to. We need to. Get --" Her voice falters briefly. Regan's fingers tighten hard around Ion's arm. Perhaps as much from /pain/ as from any largely-futile efforts to contain the electrokinetic. << /Ion/. >> Just that, a whipcrack-sharp report of voice snapping into his mind. Turning this way and that in confusion, Jewel lunges off of the ground. Reaching out with both hands, he makes towards where Ion has reappeared in an awkward limping gait. The noise that catches in Ion's throat is strangled. Rough. Behind the mask his eyes are wide. There's a moment when he strains briefly, jerking against the others' arms. Regan's voice in his head stills him into a stiff odd quiet all the more unnatural in the usually hyperactive electrokinetic. The hand he reaches to clasp Jewel's wrist comes with a hard kick of shock that is soon dwarfed as the world wrenches black and churning around them. There are brief flashes of scenery that appear and disappear with nauseating rapidity as the first-second-third-fourth-fifth-sixth places Ion materializes them are rather off-target. Lucky number seven, though, lands them by the SUV. Ion's hands are still shaking as he yanks the door open to let his unfortunate cargo inside. On an adjacent street, there's a boom, a rattle of explosion that can be felt even out here. Regan's party has arrived. Ion doesn't seem much to be enjoying it. His breathing is ragged, his posture tensed. He's only barely slammed the door shut behind them when the world -- car and all -- vanishes again. It's going to be a rocky trip home.