ArchivedLogs:Carnage (Prometheus Raid, Team 1)
| Carnage (Prometheus Raid, Team 1) | |
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| Dramatis Personae | 2013-03-07 Evacuation of the lower-security half of the lab. 9/15. Maybe this will have to be graded on a curve. **WARNING: Violence, a lot of blood.** (Part of Prometheus TP.) |
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Here is a compound. Quiet. Daylight is waning but not quite gone. A car is pulling up to the gated fence surrounding the building. It's probably not the car full of mutant terrorists, because the guards check ID and wave it on through. Somewhere past the fence there is a quiet buzzing sound. But from the outside, things here look peaceful. The guard in the booth is reading Time magazine. The car just allowed through has another guard, coming through for the beginning of his shift. At least, there /was/ another guard coming through for the beginning of his shift. And then there is a brief spike of pain in his head, and the head of the guard at the gate, and now there is a guard circling back towards the fence. To open it again. << Might want to move fast, >> Hive is advising his compatriots, his mental voice a good deal mellower than its usual stabbing-harsh attack. << I can't do shit about /cameras/. >> Dressed in the same military urban camouflage uniforms as the other members of the raiding party, Liam's head is ducked down and he is murmuring quietly to himself in Hebrew. He has not forgone the kippah, though he has found a plain black one to at least attempt to blend into his hair and their surroundings. When the car pulls to its top, he glances around the van. "Alright. Two groups, right?" he asks, standing up. He is the first to open the door to the back, opening to the outside. "Let's go." Peace takes up the leadership of the other group, gripping the edge of the door as she passes out and steps out quickly. She waves the others behind her and starts moving as quickly as she can, staying low. Her feet beat a direct path to her target, staying low and trying to avoid the cameras as best as possible, but not dallying to avoid them either. "Come on..." Flicker is /twitchy/. Not in a jittery way. Just a rapid flicking back and forth; first he's here then he's there then he's /there/. He is taking people with him! But not /these/ people. The rest of their team. Who will be in a different scene. Duh. They're disappearing quick-teleporty style somewhere around the back. The buzzing was a faint background noise, when only the uniformed guards were on the scene. It grows louder as the others start passing across the perimeter, though. There is something green and coptery circling the building. Like a little buzzy bird! Like an RC helicopter. Maybe someone is playing with their toys. Black, first name, Ryan. In the even crepuscular hour, his dark clothes afford him a measure of stealth only to be increased by the onset of night. He also wears a headset, the little, cushioned microphone poised over his mouth. With a final adjustment, he tweaks the volume knob on a black box clipped to his belt that his audio gear feeds into by a wire tucked beneath his shirt -- and he's ready. For action. With a nod, he grips the metal frame of the van door, then bolts, hunched and creeping to slip past the cameras. Hive's guards pay no attention to the flying drones. Probably because the drones aren't programmed to pay attention to them! The one who drove in is heading towards the doors, where he /was/ heading originally. This comes with a beckoned gesture to the team -- it's probably not the /most/ reassuring the be led on by one of the compounds own guards, but Hive's quiet urging, << Go. He's got a key. Might want to watch the murderdrones. >> is perhaps at least assurance that he isn't about to shoot them. He /is/ pressing his thumb to a pad by the heavy door. The buzzing is growing louder still. This time, as the green drone whirs its way around towards the approaching figures. There's a moment when it hovers. Almost peaceful still. And then behind it there is another. And another. Like a flock! Of pretty green birds. Or a welcoming committe. Except that one of them is /zeroing in/ on Ryan. Somewhere inside, an alarm sounds. These cameras are mobile. In an office somewhere, a woman is handing files and instructions to a young man. Both are in business attire rather than medical or lab gear. The woman's accent is British, her tone crisp and full of authority. "Apprise them of the invitation as well, and make a note in Osborn's file. He--" Alice breaks off when the alarm sounds, her head turning towards the camera in the corner of the ceiling, rather than looking towards the door. Crispness becomes curtness. "Go. You know the protocol." The young man breaks for the hallway, the files under his arm. Alice proceeds to her desk. The bottom drawer is opened and a handgun is removed, along with an earpiece and mic that is tucked into her left ear. Then she too is moving towards the hallway. "Security, report." There is a guard in the hallway -- multiple guards in the hallway, already bustling towards the stairs, though this one stops at Alice's command. "The drones reported a perimeter breach," he says, crisply, "though the guards on post report all-clear. Full alert until we find what triggered it." Liam follows quickly behind Peace, path low and quick. He looks up at one of the approaching murder-drones and raises his hand. A beam of light lances out from it, blazing in an instant bright flash. It is not enough to damage the helicopters, but it certainly would disorient their algorithms. "Fucking drones," is muttered by another guard, tromping quickly towards the stairs in company with a partner, "I thought they fixed this buggy-ass misfiring." The guards are heading up just as the front door waiting for them a floor up is opening. Cheerfully. Onto Liam's sudden flare, and a drone whirring its way into the building. Maybe confused. The other two are splitting up, though; one circles higher but one, after this bright attack, turns a bright beam right back on Liam. It's a small beam. But rather searing. The one that has moved away is just hovering. While another one comes up from behind, to buzzy to really /creep/, though it's honing in on Ryan's back with a searing laser of its own. Somewhere in the facility, several guards are playing Go Fish. When the alarm comes, almost all of them sit up and start talking at once: "Is that-?" -- "No fucking way-" -- "Some sort of drill-?" The oldest among them doesn't say a thing. His cards are on the table and he's already at the door, fingers punching in the code to the key-pad lock. When the other guards see what he's doing, their confusion hardens into fear. "Jim, you aren't seriously gonna-" -- "Shouldn't we wait for-" "Shut the fuck up and get ready," he tells them. The door clicks. "Protocol is protocol. We're waking him up. If it's bullshit, we'll put him back under. Get me the drug. And some blood." Inside the room, a sunken, sickly looking red-haired man in his 20s is strapped to a medical bed, clad in a hospital gown. Medical equipment is crowded about him -- including an IV drip. He is currently asleep. The guard removes a syringe from the nearby desk, injecting it directly into the drip. Within only moments, the man's eyelids start to flutter. Hive's comandeered Prometheus-guard is still ignoring the drones because, well, the drones are ignoring him. He slips in through the open door, heading straight for the stairwell with only a cursory look back to see who's following. "It was nothing," he tells the first guards to come up the stairs, "just the goddamn drones barking at nothing again." This is proven to be rather a LIE by the sudden flare behind him, though. But the man is continuing down the stairs like what? Flares? No big thing. He is on a mission, because those doors need fingerprints. The mechanic swivel of an incoming drone causes an instant lock-up of muscles, frozen with tension. Ryan *hears* the buzz before he *feels* the beam, and turning without second thought or time to contemplate, he reacts. With pain, but exaggerated, his wincing outcry turned into a sonicboom aimed at the drone. Hopefully it breaks, because well, cover blown? "You're with me," Alice informs the guard before moving on. She does not proceed towards the stairs but rather down the hallway towards a different set of doors. A finger touched to the earpiece turns it on to keep her abreast of security chatter as she proceeds towards the nearest containment cells. The gun is held against her thigh as she walks and her heels ring loud against the polished floors. She is moving briskly. Codes are entered, doors are opened and closed behind them. "Perimeter, report in," she says as they breach the last door, her finger pressed to her ear. The light that is aimed at Liam is absorbed and tossed back at at the drone aiming at him, brighter and burning, aiming for the cameras on the drone. Can't see, can't fly. The light is fierce, but more contained than before, more like a laser beam than a flashlight. "Shit. Let's get inside." Somewhere, in one of the upper floors: two bare feet transition to the cold tile floor as Parley unfolds them from the bed. The alarms aren't so loud here, but the minds snapping alert up and down the halls like Christmas lights are followed slowly by his eyes. He sets his mid day snack - a fruit cup! Because he was good today! - slowly aside. "...Something's happening." << Second basement floor, >> reports from Hive to all the teams, and this comes both mentally and through the team's headsets; it's possible he's forgotten /which/ of him he is supposed to be speaking with, because Flicker's /voice/ comes through the headsets next and given that he is /cursing/ it's clearly not Flicker actually speaking: "Fucking /shit/ it's a lot of people, though, I can't fucking tell how many we're bringing out of there yet." Flicker is /on/ that upperbasementfloor, perhaps confirming Parley's thought because look! A teleporter! Flashing in and out of existence rapidly. Not long enough to give much /news/ but he's certainly not a face that's been seen in this building before. Peace grumbles at their loss of cover and sweeps a hand out at the remaining drones, sending a series of explosions at them that at least appear to be coming from a different direction all together than the door or the gate they came in by. With the imagined calvary hopefully distracting them, she turns and runs in, heading down the hallway, looking to take out the guards more than likely coming toward them. "Ryan, how hurt are you? Come on, people, we /have/ to get those cells. Down as fast as you can" "False alarm," comes Alice's report back from the perimeter guard. "A vehicle didn't stop at our check but it was just a tourist." The other guard is sticking with Alice, weapon drawn as they head towards the cells. There are no guards coming toward them. Not yet! At least, well, there are guards but at the sight of the intruders they have stayed around the corner, blocking off the stairwell that will take them down to the nearest cell-block floor. What /is/ coming towards Peace, though, is bullets. Just one first. Then two more shots down the hall in quick succession. The guard dealing with the red-head in the medical lab gestures to one of his compatriots; an IV sack full of blood is thrown his way. It's tossed on top of the red head's chest with a rough, lewd *SLAP*. "Happy birthday, freak," the guard tells the red-head -- just as his eyes pop open. Just then, a second guard is entering, carrying a small briefcase with the biohazard symbol on it -- inside, several long vials filled with a black syrup. The vials are labeled 'VENOM'. The second guard is already loading a syringe up with one. "We seriously doing this?" one of the guards outside ask. "We turnin' on the mother-fucking DRACULA?" -- "Shut up," the oldest guard barks from within the room. Then, as he reaches to his headset, even as the black VENOM is injected into the groaning red-head: "Control, this is Station 3. Ready to activate protocol Maximum Carnage. Greenlight?" Ryan reigns in control, adrenaline a natural combatant to the pain as it numbs his mind to the sensation in his nerves. Enduringly cheerful, he answers, "Fine, I'm coming!" to Peace, limbs flexing as he breaks back into a sprint in pursuit of the guards. A hand flies down to the box at his waist -- an amplifier, and he turns up the volume -- just in case! "/Green light/," comes back immediately enough to be urgent, even /without/ the clear urgency in the voice coming through all the Promethean's headsets. "Security breach. Intruders on floor one." On Parley's floor it is clear enough something is happening, even without empathic senses; their guards suddenly more /tense/, tromping footsteps on the floor above. Those brief flashes of Foreign Mutant as Flicker investigates. And to empathic senses, the sudden bright flashes of alarm, anxiety, anger. Or sudden determined calm as protocols are activated. Among these protocols, there is another order coming down the line: "Floor two, prepare to evacuate. Stand by." Though. The order to be ready for evacuation that comes through the headsets comes, also, with the guards on Parley's floor readying their weapons. And doing a quick count of cells. Liam hisses and presses against the wall as gunfire starts, frowning. "Blinding them in tree, two..." He raises a hand and a beam of light lances down the hallway. A flash glares down the hallway, as bright as a flashbang, blinding to anyone who was at the wrong end of it for several seconds. Alice shoulders through the last door, one that brings her into a stairwell that will lead down to floor two. The pace that had threatened to slow at the all clear from the perimeter now picks up. Down she does with her guard in tow. "Control, perimeter reports all clear, be aware that intruders have access to our comms," she says into her mic. And then there is someone /there/, there and gone, and she stops abruptly. The woman blinks, more puzzled than alarmed. Then, with fresh determination, she continues down the final few steps. "If anyone attempts to break evacuation protocol, no matter their uniform, shoot them," she tells the guard as they arrive on the containment floor. Peace slams herself back against the wall when a bullet smashes into her kevlar vest, knocking the breath out of her and causing her to choke. It is not the first time she has been shot like this. She curses in Spanish and struggles painfully to catch her breath. << Hive. Can I blast down? I'd rather fight my way up than leave those people lingering any longer. >> She can't do much else physically for the moment other than wave the others on. << You'll be getting more than bullets in there soon, >> Hive's voice ripples through his team's minds, though it's got a faintly puzzled undertone. And for the mutants /in/ the compound, there is a quieter interjection, sudden but calm: << You may have noticed there's some commotion. There are people coming for you. To get you out of here. Be ready for them. If any of you /can/ fight, you might want to be ready to fight, too. >> At the immediate response of 'Green light', the guards standing at Station 3 stiffen... and the oldest turns, barking back at them: "GO. NOW." They don't stick around to wait for an update. Guard #1 turns to the red-head, who's eyes are now open -- and turning a shade of peculiar pink. The guard produces a knife from his waist; he brings it down, slitting the bag open. Blood spills, dribbling down over the man's chest -- soaking through his gown. And as it soaks... it begins to move. Spreading. Sliding. /Rolling/ across his body. When it reaches his neck and face, he archs his head back -- as if in ecstasy. Tendrils of it spread downward, into his mouth; his eyes glaze with euphoria. The blood spreads, growing thinner and thinner, forming a web of delicate, vein-like patterns across his skin... He sits up, staring at the older guard -- who is staring him down with fearless determination. The red-head glares... and croaks a single, throaty, *hungry* word: "MORE." "You know where to get it, freak," the older guard tells him... and then he steps aside. The red-head rises to his feet... and throws his hands outward. Tiny red *whips* of razor-sharp blood snap out from his fingers, severing the wires that connect him to the medical equipment. He moves, stepping past the older guard -- moving into the facility proper. Heading straight for the nearest cell with a mutant inside. "Dracula's up. And he's pissed. Stay the fuck out of his way," the older guard states into the comm. And then he moves, running off to join the rest of his team. "Stairs," Flicker's voice comes through the headsets in response to Peace's query. "Floor's thick as fuck. You'll have a few guards to get through. But there's someone at the bottom to open the door for you." The guards at the stairs are still very much /at/ the stairs, though rather disoriented in the wake of Liam's flash. Some intrepid few still hold their weapons at the ready. Another just squeezes his eyes shut with a muttered, "Fucking freaks," to his companions, and to his headset, "At least three, maybe four intruders, floor one, moving towards floor two. We're holding the stairs." Badly. Blindly. He /might/ just shoot in the general direction of any approaching footsteps. "PEACE," Ryan calls from behind her, a hand against her back for stability. Utilizing the din of voices, especially his own, there is a subtle wave of calming relief in the sound of talking; suggestive of peace. "You okay?" is more than reassuring, but empathically pushing towards /soothing/ as he flick his head in a nod forward, indicating the rest of the team to proceed in front of them while he attends to (wo)Man Down. The guards at the stairs are still very much /at/ the stairs, though rather disoriented in the wake of Liam's flash. Some intrepid few still hold their weapons at the ready. Another just squeezes his eyes shut with a muttered, "Fucking freaks," to his companions, and to his headset, "At least three, maybe four intruders, floor one, moving towards floor two. We're holding the stairs." Badly. Blindly. He /might/ just shoot in the general direction of any approaching footsteps. Parley's new roommate - a younger girl with a deep, untrusting frown - hasn't responded. She sits on the bed and watches him from the corner of her eye, a shoulder braced against the far wall. He walks past her first, to place tented fingers against the door of the cell. And then pauses, both of them lifting their heads slightly at the voice speaking inward to them. The girl slips her feet down to the floor as well now, her eyes alarmed. Parley stands rigid, the fur down his shoulders bristling in their follicles... he then suddenly begins scanning the room, yanking back blankets from the bed and then the mattress off the cot. He yanks at the frame, once in a practical fashion, then a second time. Then suddenly with desperation, steps back, /kicks/ at it, and then suddenly strides into the bathroom. Liam turns to Ryan, hissing quietly, "Footsteps right next to them, Ryan." he says, peeking briefly around the wall. It is only for a moment, though, before he tucks himself against the wall once more. "Quickly." he adds in, glancing back at Ryan. "I'll give them another flash at the same time, and...." He points a thumb and finger and mimics shooting a gun at Ryan. "Oh, quit it, boys. I'm fine." Peace gets her breath back with Ryan's help. "I'm going knock those jerks around a bit. Clear out the stair well. Fire in the HOLE!" Fingers working under her vest to rub gingerly at the blossoming bruise, the mutant 'freak' gathers enough energy and flicks it down the hall and into the stairwell to cause an explosion as near as she can guess to the center of the group there that is powerful enough to knock down free standing beings and objects, but not ruin the stairwell all together. As 'Dracula' enters one of the cells, there's a brief yelp -- a squeal, a shout of horror -- and then a dull, wet *SPLORSH*. The windows of the cell are instantly caked in blood... and a few moments later, the blood is sliding -- slowly, yet far more quickly than it should -- downward. Every last drop of it rolling down the windows, the walls, even the edge of the doorway... into the center of the room. 'Dracula' emerges -- now caked, from head to toe, in blood. Glistening wetly -- even his eyes are red. His teeth, when he bares them, seem to have grown longer -- row after row of sharpened, gleaming needles. His fingers are talons -- razor-sharp, made of blood. Through his spine, blood-formed 'quills' begin to emerge... as he walks out of the room, a passing guard catches sight of him -- terror registering in his eyes, lifting the gun to point at him. 'Dracula' politely reaches forward, pushing the gun aside... and plucking the guard's comm device up. Clicking it on with a *CKRT*: "Hello? This thing on? They've got a telepath. Probably somewhere outside. He's sending messages to us freaks." 'Dracula' licks his lips with a tongue that is *far* too long. "Tell me where they are. I want something fresh. All these ones've been eating are fruit cups and fig newtons." While he waits for a reply, he grins at the guard -- who is just staring at him with abject terror. "Don't worry, sweetie," he tells him. "I don't like *human* blood." He looks up, now -- at the next cell. Maybe it's Parley's. Then he hears the explosion, head cocking toward the stairs. From the stairs there is -- well, a brief more /erratic/ couple gunshots, one rather unfortunately headed for Liam; but then a thudding of bodies. A clatter of guns. A /resounding/ bout of cursing. The smell of singed flesh, singed clothes. It is such an appealing stairway now. It has a squishy carpeting of guards. << -- Hurry, >> Hive's voice urges, just his team this time, << There's a guy down there. Manipulates blood. Be /careful/. But he's killing prisoners. Redhead. You'll know which one I mean. He's blood all over. >> "This could prove interesting," Alice murmurs as she listens to the chatter coming through her ear piece. She scans the hallway, marking the positions of the guards on the floor, the doors they face, the doors beyond that that hide more cells. As she completes that survey, and the building shudders with the concussive blasts occurring below, her lips compress into a thin line and she backs away from the stairwell door after gesturing her guard to take up position facing it. Her own gun raises, aimed over his shoulder. The shot skims over Liam's left shoulder before it hits the wall next to him. He falls back against the wall with a cry of pain, hand clutching at the wound. He glances over it and grits his teeth as light seeps through his fingers, scorching the wound shut. It is, as they say, a mere flesh wound. He straightens up and follows the rest of the team, quickly. "I'm fine." he says, teeth still gritted. "Let's move." Pain sounds in his voice. The guard with Alice drops to a knee, down the hall but with a good view of the stairwell. His gun is trained on it, as well. He seems rather calm, given the explosion that just rocked that stairwell. Waiting. Even when the order comes through his headset: "Intruders moving to floor two. Begin evacuation," he looks calm. Steady. The dull-sick spike of dismay that hits him is easy enough to feel, though it does not show through to his steady eyes, steady hands. It's a spike that's echoed -- as fear, as disgust, or as sudden tight hardening determinedly-not-feeling -- through a handful of other guards, as they get their weapons. Start in on the far bank of cells. A guard unlocks a door. There's not even time for any screams, just a pair of gunshots, and then the chaos is two minds less chaotic. "Go, go, Go." Peace leans over to scoop up a gun as she begins moving toward the stairs. Despite her hastening words, she enters the stairwell cautiously, looking high and low with the barrel of her gun pointing in each direction before taking a step in, over the bodies. "Shots below. We have to move!" Unless she see something, she's bolting down the stairs two at a time, gun pointed ahead and down. "Gentlemen," 'Dracula' rumbles as his head turns toward the explosion at the stairwell -- handing the comm device back to the guard in front of him. "Bring me mutants." -- The two guards behind 'Dracula' flinch. "Excuse me, wha-" -- "BRING ME BLOOD!" he snarls, throwing his hand at one of the cells -- claws extending outward, *swelling* into a set of massive blades -- tearing through the door's frame, *hooking* into it. Blood takes the shape of muscles and tendons, pulling -- ripping the door off the hinges. Bringing it to him. Inside, two patients scream, clinging to each other. The guards move -- gunshots. Two more minds disappear. Faces pale as ash, the men begin dragging the corpses toward 'Dracula' as he extends his claw-arm -- now attached to the door -- and *slams* it horizontally against the stairwell entryway, bracing it shut. "What are you /doing/?" Parley's cellmate stands in the doorway separating their small bathroom unit, watching him rip the shower curtain off the rod, and then hop up to /swing/ on it. "I don't know," he says back tightly. Also "Kshh!" when the rod breaks loose from the wall and (after nearly landing flat on his back) he stands, hands gripping white-knuckled on the rod. Surely not to keep them from trembling. He slips around her and begins to move back towards the door, hefting it unprofessionally... and then slows to a stop as terror, pain, /hunger/ all begin to flood through... his eyes slipping wider in a curious mix of horror and something /easing/ inwardly as it awakens and streamlines. "Get into the bathroom." "Shit," Ryan spits through his teeth, looking over his shoulder as he hustles past Liam. Down the stairwell he spills a low hum in the back of his throat, volume amplified by the microphone bud positioned over his mouth -- like a verbal trigger ready to fire. "Everyone, stay close. Be careful," he says, echoing Hive's message. Again, there is a ripple of emotion in the reverberations of his voice, enough to nudge the mind towards a sense of security. << Thirteen to get on this floor, >> Hive is reporting, after another quick in-out-in-out appearance by Flicker through the waiting and carnage on the floor. And then, a pair of gunshots later: << Eleven to get on this floor. >> has a grimmer urgency to it that does not /need/ to say: Hurry. << Guards with guns trained on the door. Be ready to take them as soon as it's open. >> When Liam reaches the bottom of the stairwell, he raises his hands. Bright light lances out along the edge of the door, dripping molten metal in drops along where the light has touched. He raises the line of light along the edges of the door. The hinges creak and the lock melts, but the door does not fully open. Liam leaves a little bit of the door still attached, then gestures for the others to finish the last bit as he backs away from the door frame. Out of gun range, hopefully more successfully this time. To Alice's credit, she only flinches a little when the bloody mutant performs his craft. She is ignoring the guards' progress through the cells, the doors behind her at her back--their task is not hers. Her hand remains steady around the butt of her gun, her finger gentle on the trigger. Another flicker at the corner of her eyes... "Bring others," she calls out suddenly, loudly, to the guards at their labor. "Reinforce him. Quickly." She pauses for a beat. "/Now/," the woman amends. "Listen to the pretty lady," 'Dracula' purrs -- as the bodies are dropped behind him, two 'tentacles' spring from the quills along his back -- diving into the corpses. There is a grotesque *SCHRLP* sound -- their bodies begin to crinkle, growing ashen. And the mutant is getting... *bigger*. His flesh rippling, swelling -- long cords of blood whipping across his skin. His teeth are covered in blood, now -- long, red talons -- his skin intermingling with red and black. Becoming... less humanoid. More just sharp edges and long chords of whipping blood. And then the door *explodes*. The door he's using to brace it is snapped in two beneath the force of the explosion; he snarls, letting the pieces drop to the floor. "OPEN FIRE!" he roars. "BRING ME *MORE*!" His other arm swings forward, once more turning into a massive claw -- once more, ripping a door off the hinges, swinging it in front of him as an impromptu shield. The guards move in for the kill -- it's the room Parley is in. The guard's weapon stays trained firmly on the door, even as it starts melting away. He /is/ rather more tense at the bloodshed behind him, but his jaw is set and his focus steady on the door. He doesn't waver even through the explosion. Nor through the gunshot behind him, as another body is dragged out to the haemokinetic. << Ten on this floor, >> Hive reports, and though his tone sounds even it's hard to miss the faint weight of nausea it carries with it. Liam winces as the door explodes, but he follows quickly with a set of blinding flashes down the hallway, and one particularly bright one scorching towards the blood manipulator. "Oh /god/," he mutters, pressing backwards away from the doorframe and taking one step back. "Peace..." he says, voice quavering once. The guard is quick to pull the trigger, at the first sight of a person past the doorway. His head turns reflexively, eyes shutting against the sudden bright glare. There's a twitch of motion, his instinct to /move/, but, compromised in vision he stays where he is, keeping his weapon aimed towards the doorway to squeeze off one more round. Alice drops to a knee with this new explosion, gun and head both lowered as the shockwave rocks through the hallway. When she straightens, she has turned to stride back towards the newly opened door. "Where is..." And that's when the lights flare and she is left momentarily dazzled. She presses the heel of her palm into her eyes, trying to rapidly clear them, and presses against the wall to make less of a target of herself. The shower rod slams down on the guards gun before it even enters the room - to be fair, Parley was /aiming/ for his head, but somewhere between dumb luck and trained reflexes has the guard yanking back his head and only losing his /gun/. From behind Parley -- the girl mutant sees a mad moment of opening and rushes forward, sprint into the hall. Where she stops and SCREAMS at the creature filling it, before five slugs to the back turn her run into a skidding to her knees and then face. Behind the unarmed guard, a second fires, and Parley doesn't seem even /aware/ he's hit in the shoulder as he backs deeper into the room, retreating. Peace swears under her breath once more at the blood tendrils and the door and the people behind being dragged out. She shakes her head and stays half hidden as she charges something larger than the last explosion, jaw set as she tempers it. Her concentration is jarred with the bullet ricochet, but she springs into action after, bowling the energy down the hall as she dives back into the stairwell, exploding it as she clears the threshold. << Nine, >> comes the count. A quite, imperceptible sound of the volume dial clicks up his voice amplifier to its fullest, as Ryan bursts through the exploded door. The sickening carnage of the blood-feasting mutant shape deters him little; rather, it contorts his face caught hallfway between a disgust and anger. Mouth open, he emits a loud, forceful "AHHHHHHHH" down the hallway, channeled into a concussive force that follows the light display in a shout of sonicboom rending its way for the redheaded, tendriled *thing* wreaking havoc on fellow mutant-kind. Another dead mutant. Another tentacle. Another feast. The hemokinetic's back arches; he's *swelling* into something beyond description -- from his shoulders emerge every manner of horror. He's sprouting extra limbs -- produced from solidifying blood, forming into hardened, tendon-like appendages -- bone-like scabs. Malformed battle-axes. Curved knives. Barbed needles. *Dozens* of them. And he's starting to giggle, his brain awash in euphoria. "MORE!" he squeals, even as the laser hits the door in front of him -- leaving it smoldering and hot. He throws it toward the entryway -- right before he *rushes* forward, moving on all fours. And then -- the combined force of Peace's explosion and Ryan's amplified *SHRIEK* hits him -- and the flying door -- simultaneously. The door explodes into nothing more than shrapnel; the room is filled with chaos and screams and smoke -- as this rampaging horror is *SMASHED* backward, sent reeling back with an enraged scream -- those appendages snapping, several of them crumbling into dried blood -- falling off of him as he's flung back. The explosion and the following sonic force accompany what the blinding flashes did not; the guard in the hall with Alice is thrown backwards, skidding a short way but then just lying. He does not get up again. In the stairwell, though, the bodies they walked over to get down here are -- well, some aren't moving. One is. Not a zombie. Just recovering from her daze. It takes a moment before the guard lifts her handgun. From the angle of in-the-stairwell, from this range, she is shooting towards the back of Peace's head rather than her front. Having almost reached the door, it is both luck and positioning that sees the next explosion all but flinging Alice into the cell with Parley. She collides with the door frame and then falls inside onto her side, head hanging low and grip momentarily loosened on her pistol. Her breath is coming short, ears ringing, stars dancing in the field of her vision. There's a scratch on her cheek where a chip flung by richochet has cut the skin. Slowly she begins to climb to her feet, fingers groping for the earbud. "Control...Control, floor two holding but...Control, can you hear me?" It doesn't matter--she can't hear them. Liam calmly levels a hand and burns the gun in the guard's hand to ash. It might take a good chunk of the guard with it, but once the threat is neutralized one way or another, he glances down the hallway. He searches the hall with his eyes, peeking around the column and flashing several more times down the hallway to dazzle any remaining guards. Parley's cell is a mess of debris. The door lost a chunk along with the blast, the ground jumping under the feet of occupants. The guards heads jerk towards the door when they realize Alice has fallen through - and Parley /takes/ it, ducking his presence under the moment of distraction in a single moment of adrenaline and wide-eyed... peace? Exquisite terror? and finding purchase on the ground with his /fingertips/ he pulls himself forward, digging in his toes and makes a mad scramble for the door. Only one shot is fired, making a sharp 'ping!' off the wall before they realize they're also firing dangerously close to /Alice/ at this angle. Alice, who Parley practically steps on in his rush into the hall, gripping his shoulder.
Peace eases out into the hall gun in hand again, looking this way and that for guards, eyes constantly returning to the crumpled form of the red head. She scowls as she starts moving toward unopened cells, blowing the locks with small charges in the palms of her hand and opening the door. "Sorry about the racket. Head for the stairs." Her attention is still very much on the Dracula. When Parley makes his break for it, she calls out. "Liam, prisoner on his way!" She keeps her gun pointed at the downed figure as she works. The hemokinetic's landing isn't pretty; one guard catches the brunt of it -- those wickedly barbed blades descending into him with a lurid *THKRT*, carving him to pieces as he shrieks. The blood goes to waste; what gets on the mutant's body rolls off like water across oil. He's surging to his feet again -- arms extending, seizing hold of the doors on opposite sides -- tearing them free, only to smash them together in front of him -- to form a makeshift shield once more. Bracing it with dozens upon dozens of those blood red tentacles -- charging forward as he does, fangs extending into tusks, scimitar-like feet carving deep gouges into the floor. He's not even bothering with the interred mutants anymore; he wants Peace. "BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD--" To the prisoners Peace is releasing, there are quieter words. Terse, still, but not quite so snippy: << The mutants opening your cages are here to get you out. Go with them. They'll bring you to safety. >> There are prisoners scrambling out of the cells, when Peace opens them. Some a little dazed, some skittish-wary. Most all confused. One skinny young teenager screams at the sight of the haemokinetic, frozen in her doorway. Another older man retreats back into his cell with an uncertain expression. But most head -- well, out. Though once in the hall they don't all seem to have a clear idea where to /go/. Except perhaps /away/ from the creepy bloodmonster trying to eat Peace. Oh no they didn't. Alice may not clearly hear the ping, but she feels the wind of that passage. "Cease fire!" she yells. "Cease fir--" There, she finally loses the gun as both hands go to her temples. Telepath. Telepathtelepathtelepath. Training kicks in and defenses are raised; her attempt to fight the push is more focused than some. Her mic is keyed again. "Control, floor two is lost, they have a telepath," she hisses through gritted teeth as she scoops her gun up and limps back towards the door. Stepping into the hallway, the pistol is raised, the trigger is squeezed. She is half-blind with pain, inside and out, but she is aiming for anything that resembles a fleeing back. Ryan's sole focus remains on the hemokinetic and subduing him. He walks, still projecting a banshee shriek with its powerful blast of soundwaves; the destructive vibration and frequency poses a threat for the solidifying blood appendages as he continues to stalk down the hallway. Intent, buying time for the rest to conduct their retrieval of inmates. Liam hits Alice head-on with a bright series of flashes directly into her eyes, then he grabs the gun out of her hands and hits her over the head with the butt of it. He carefully ushers the prisoners back up the stairs. "I'll take them out," he says, leading the clump of prisoners back up the stairs quickly, gun held in one hand. "Someone bring that one! She was in charge." he calls down the stairs, peeking around the corner as he escorts the mutants out. << Nofuckno leave the woman get the prisoners, >> Hive is contradicting, in minds and in headsets both, with a quiet added grumble that probably /shouldn't/ be over their comms but is: << The fuck are we going to do with some important government bitch /I/ don't want her in my fucking apartment. >> Sound-waves. Fucking SOUND-WAVES. The brunt of the force is absorbed by the makeshift shields the hemokinetic has in front of him -- but some of it gets through, shuddering up his arms and tendrils, loosening the connective tissue which keeps that shield braced. He descends upon Peace like an incoming bull-dozer, several of his 'arms' sprouting additional faces -- faces that swell with hundreds of needle-like blood-teeth. All of them screaming, all of them CHANTING: "BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD..." Bullets don't stop him. The few that don't hit that shield hit the blood -- and don't penetrate more than half an inch. He's gotten /big/ and he's gotten /hungry/. But the grenades rolling underneath that shield -- those catch him. He's just about on top of her when the first one *EXPLODES*, a flash of heat and light as he's sent reeling back -- the shield slamming into the ground, blocking the next few, dragging across the floor with sparks. "BITCH!" he shrieks, and the blood tendrils are writhing higher behind that shield, *pushing* it along the ground -- screeching like metal as he gets closer. Only about 15 yards, now. Tendrils snaking about -- axes and knives and *hooks* -- swinging for Peace's head, shoulders -- a toothed face snapping out for Ryan's chest. Parley is bringing up the rear of the group of escapees, an arm slipped around the back of a hesitant other prisoner with his head turned, looking over his shoulder. He hangs back for a moment, watching the battle ensue for a single moment, his expression oddly attentive. Then he turns back to the stairs, stooping to pry a stun baton from the dead fingers of a dead guard; people have picked apples with greater confliction. Gripping it white-knuckled, he sprints after the rest, skipping steps as he goes. Ryan is holding down the fort (read: stalling the blood monster at the end of the hallway). He's not leaving Peace behind! Nor is he leaving her unguarded from the serpentine blood weaponry brandished at her by the hemakinetic. Playing off the ambient shouts and his own voice, he diverts the brunt of his wall of SOUND with its booming assault for the various blades closing in on the woman, leaving himself open to the headed appendage that sinks its crimson dagger-teeth, biting through his kevlar vest to puncture skin. "Fuuuck!" With his pain comes MORE SONIC ATTACK. Peace keeps lobbing explosions, small ones, where it hurts him most. When he drops the doors to the ground and pushes, she starts lobbing them over. Her free hand is charging something larger. When the bladed things fly at her face, she falls down trying to dodge backwards, avoiding the blow but finding it hard to get to her feet again. The large explosion is heaved, lifted over her head and then thrown back behind the creature. "RUN!" She screams as she scrambles for the stair well, desperate to get Ryan out as well. For a moment -- for just a moment -- it feels like Ryan's blood is being drained from his body, /sucked/ straight out of him. If it lasted for a second longer, he might lose more than a pint. But in the next instant, a massive explosion is hammering over his head -- and sound-waves are buffeting his dozen or more limbs -- a shriek of rage goes off as the ceiling begins to collapse, the doors retracting. The blood-horror is *retreating* -- but as he does, dragging his way back into the corridor -- they can hear him giggling, his voice high-pitched and shrill: "I got a taste... I got a taste of your blood... I'll FIIIIIIIND YOOOOOOOOOU..." | |
