Cry Havoc (Languge)

June 09, 2014: The secret war against Hydra turns a villa in Battery Park City into a battleground when Hydra decides to hit back hard.

Battery Park City

A posh villa on the southern end of Manhattan Island complete with a walled off yard. Luxury incarnate. In the middle of the night, no less.



  • Maria Eddings
  • SRD Troopers and Privite Security Mooks

Mood Music:

Battery Park City, New York. Not properly it's own city, this 90 acre division in Lower Manhattan is one of the nicest on this end of the country, period, full stop. Between views of the Hudson River and the Atlantic, sweeping parks, manicured streets and very expensive homes, town homes and high rises, this place practically bleeds security, stability and wealth. So it's a bit of a surprise that Maria Eddings, Deputy Commander of the NY SRD makes her home here. Government paychecks don't usually cover homes in Battery Park. However the Eddings are old money and Maria, despite her blue collar image at work and on the street, is most decidedly an upper crust child. She enjoys the finer things and that's evident in her home, a sprawling (for New York) Villa at the very tip of Manhattan Island.


Up comes that feed tray cover, before she tugs the chunky rounds over and nestles them into place before slapping it down with a -clack-. "We're on the clock in here, so maximum violence and give me room to work alright? This shit's gonna be fucking nuts."Back comes the charging handle, before she lets it fly home. PKP Pecheneg, Vepr-12 and enough grenades to level a city block? Check. "Wait for me to go loud first, and no shit Aspect don't fucking crowd me I'm gonna be hurtin' feelings in a very big way."Gloved hands fish that gasmask out of her bag as she bows her head in the back of that beat up plumber's van. Then slowly she raises that gasmask over her face and becomes, The Partisan. Carefully threading that dull grey shemagh around her neck before tugging her kevlar down over her noggin. "If it gets wild, just break and run alright? I can't do jack shit if I gotta worry about saving your ass, understood?"A glance to her ratty G-shock, before rolling onto her knee and resting a hand on the sliding door handle. Thirty seconds…


Odame has reason to be drinking. He also has reason to be burning through some serious coin doing so. SHIELD may have him on a leash, but he played his cards well and is about as free as one might get, given the circumstances. He chose to drink in one of Battery Park City's finest bars for this reason alone. However, he is still drinking, and it all has something to do with being even remotely involved with the Feds.

For the occasion, Kwabena has put aside his typical attire and adopted something at least somewhat more respectable; designer jeans and a designer shirt, both purchased on sample sale. The appearance of wealth without actually having it, per se. Keeping in mind his leash, he hasn't overdone it, and as the night rolls on, he steps out of that neighborhood bar to have a much deserved smoke.


Jericho has managed a bit of body armor this time -no sense in going all obviously digital if it can be helped- though Parti almost certainly noticed the small of blood on him when he showed up. Still he seemed to be moving okay. What he lacks in heavy artillery he's made up for in demolitions. C4? Check. Det cord? Check. And of course his usual suite of digital tricks. "T-minus fifteen." He says. His HUD keeps the time up for him. "Cutting communications in the Villa… now." Immediately down goes anything that's not wired to a land line. Which will, of course be Jericho's first target. He isolates, Partisan destroys. It's worked pretty well so far, anyway. "That'll delay the PD response. Still no read on what kind of hardware might be in that Villa. Pretty heavily shielded." Which makes him suspicious, but he doesn't need to tell Parti that. She knows.

The van is parked a block over from Odame's bar and… so far, it's just an ordinary night. A police cruiser rolls by on patrol, but Odame doesn't even rate a second look. Which is… good, if you wanna avoid more SHIELD attention.


Partisan rolls her shoulders, taking the final moments to snug her gloves back up and kick her toes tight to the tips of her boots. Head bobbing silently to the song rolling around in her noggin, before she finally pops the door just a crack open. Ready to be kicked open as the seconds tick down, grasping that sawed down belt fed with a soft sigh. Then a knock-knock on the bare roof of that van to get Aspect's attention, "Five, Four, Three, Two…GO!"She -SLAMS- a boot into that door hard enough to force the slider off it's rails entirely and send it skidding down the sidewalk. As if there was doubt that the woman in gray was SWAT or whatnot, she puts that thought to bed fairly early on with a shout. "FUCK HYDRA!"


The sudden ruckus is, of course, enough to draw Kwabena's attention. He darts his head toward the van, though he otherwise doesn't react. Not at first. A long, deep drag is taken from his cigarette, and for a few moments, he let's the second hand smoke pour out around his face. You see, he's in enough crap already, last thing he needs is to get involved in someone else's business. That shout, however, is enough to perk his eyebrow. With the cigarette dangling lazily in his hand, he watches like a good spectator with an amused grin growing upon his face.


Jericho moves out exactly three seconds and heads for the nearest telephone pole. He's already read up on as much of the building's schematics as are public. As Partisan moves in he winds a precut length of detcord around the pole. "Hardline communications blackout in three… two… one…" BANG It's a smaller explosion that one might see in a movie, but it's more than enough to knock the pole over into the street, barricading the street to normal traffic and cutting off phone and external network service via the land lines.

That bang gets attention in the Villa though. Behind the fashionable brick wall separating the yard from the street she can hear shouts and near military like directions being given out. Windows break on the second and third levels of the building. Partisan can see men preparing make shift but obviously rehersed fighting positions.

"Second story!"Is all she cares to call out, before that Pecheneg gets to work. With it's barrel cut down the cyclic rate is a little higher, but the clatter of a PKM is unmistakable. Hurling fat 203 grain penetrators at the windows with a scary degree of accuracy, never mind the twenty three pound weapon carried by a like hundred seventy pound woman. Advancing swiftly on the compound, and dipping the muzzle only as long as it takes to strip a pair of white phosphorus grenades from her chest rig and -pitch- them at the second floor windows. No shit, Partisan could totally play in the majors with that arm. "Willy pete out! Secondary, push to the secondary!" That would be the villa's front windows, not the front door itself.


Another drag if his cigarette is taken, during which the phone pole falls and the shouting comes from above. He throws the cigarette to the ground a moment before Partisan's weapons fire erupts, filling the street with noise and flashes of light. A moment later, though, Kwabena is gone, his clothing falling to the ground in a heap. Only a few tufts of black smoke signify his disappearance, easily lost in the night.

Snaking along the ground toward Jericho are tendrils of black smoke. They follow the curb, moving at high speed in the shadow, before the material rises into the shape of a man not far away. The sound of air being displaced with a -whoosh!- precludes Shift's reformation as a man, wearing the same uniform he had on the mission to Napata. "What's de mahk?" he asks. "Feelin' genahrous. You need a hand?"

Black bastard just can't stay out of it, can he?


Jericho blinks and nearly jumps. He'd been in the process of mounting the wall before Shift appeared. He *does* vaguely recognize Shift from the breach team at Kush… "Maria Eddings, Deputy Commander for the New York SRD and certified Hydra traitor. She's gotta go after what they tried to pu- Shit!" His eyes shift to something Shift can't see. His HUD just alerted him to bad news. "Parti, microburst traffic outbound. Couldn't lock it down before they got a squawk out." Crap. He should have figured Hydra would start upping their game eventually. "Sonofa- SRD Birds inbound. Lot of them. ETA thirty seconds for the first set." Jericho's gaze returns to Shift. "Yeah, we could use the help. Just don't crowd Parti Girl. She may shoot ya."

Two ends of the manor's second floor are going up in flames but there's plenty of fire raining down. Mostly small arms rifles, M4s and Styrs. Nothing heavy yet… but the SRD is coming… Small knots of security personnel are sheltering in covered positions on the Villa porch and in the yard behind hedges and low retainer walls mostly. Jericho comes over the wall and advances, laying down fire from his KRISS. "Reaper Drones inbound from the Guard armory. I'll see what i can do about those."


Partisan grunts, bracing that chunky belt box against the wall and leaning in before she goes full cyclic. Raining a long, continious stream of 30 caliber suppressive fire on the second floor. Working from window, to window without a pause. "Fucking bail you t- yeah, two!"Already lifting her support hand away from it's brace to rip the velcro tab covering the second ammo box free and pulling out the leader as she seems pretty fucking intent on investing all two hundred rounds in that building. Trying to keep the fuckers pinned between full auto fire and actual yaknow, chemical fire.


Hydra. The name has come up in Kwabena's criminal circles, but he hasn't bothered to figure out exactly what they are. Probably a wise choice, considering… a few things. Regardless, mention of SRD has him sneering. "Fucking SRD." He looks between the villa and Jericho, sneer having turned to a frown. "Birds and I ahnt friends," he quips while following Jericho to the wall. He leaps upward and transforms to smoke halfway through the leap. The cloud of smoke curls upon the wall, then vaults itself at a fast speed along the wall itself, performing what look like little hops until it reaches the furthest of the guards. Shift, in this state, merely curls himself around the guard's head, choking him out. Then, he moves on to the next one, and the next one, their weapons firing up into the air as they collapse in choking fits.


Jericho takes the opportunity to make the actual villa between Shift's collapsing of their defensive perimeter and Parti's suppressive fire, breaking a window and chucking a block of C4 inside. A simple adhesive strip on the back makes it stick to a coffee table which a moment later is turned into a mess of flying splinters. Then he's inside. Parti's call to pull out comes over his comm line and he's about to acknowledge it and start figuring the best way to exfiltrate when he hears turbine engines overhead. "Damn. They're here."

SRD quick response verti-birds are based on the Quinnjets SHIELD uses, but much less… everything. The turbine technology is the same though, enabling them to go from forward flight to a hover in very short order. Five of them arrive very short order, each with a squad of twelve aboard. Rappel lines descend followed quickly by SRD Officers. Above the birds lay down tear gas and suppressive fire in the form of M240-G machine guns.


Sixty, sixty well armed, well trained soldiers with air support. That takes Part for the first time in many years, for surprise. "Five birds, many footmobiles! Break and run, break and run!" Part ducks down, calmly swapping belts out before jerking the charging handle back and letting it fly home. That little voice in the back of her head, starts it's whispering. Break contact and run, fight again another day."We've lost control!" She hollers over the radio, before taking a glance down the nearby alley. A second's indecision, before she sprints to the hood of a nearby Chevy Celebrity and gets to work.

She eases back, pitching out a pair of Thermite grenades, a CR grenade, Three no four frags, followed by colored smoke. This isn't the cool, calm collected Part who occasionally swears. This is manic last stand sort've shit, trying desperately to focus the SRD's entire attention on her and her exclusively. That Pecheneg barks to life, walking fire over the cockpit glass of the nearest bird before slowly walking her fire aft."Don't wait for me, I'm right behind you!"It's a lie, she knows it's a lie and she even knows either man will know it as well but she has to give them their excuse. This worthless 1980s shitbox just became her Alamo, damn the consequences as rounds fall around her but thus far she doesn't seem in the least bit injured.


Yeah, they're here, and it didn't take long at all. Shift reforms not far from Jericho, scowling. "Figures," comes on the tail of his alert. He spins about, taking a moment to watch as the flying contraptions deploy. Aircraft like these can present him a unique challenge, one he answers by hardening. It's visible, the way his skin crackles and turns to something that resembles rock, but while it does, his expression takes on a somewhat enraged demeanor. He has no idea if he'll be able to block those bullets in this form, but it's worth a shot. The harder he gets, the less he needs to breathe. The less that tear gas will effect him.

Not seeing much of another way out, he goes running right into the thick of things. The bullets he draws do, in fact, bounce off his super-solid body, and his boots leave dents in the pavement. As he goes, he moves low, swiping his arms across legs, shattering them. Non-lethal is the name of his game for now. His path seems to be taking him toward the van, and he's leaving a path of destruction and broken bodies in his wake.


"I'm in the building for now and stuck there." *Jericho says as machine gun fire slaps into the yard around Partisan, off Shift and, into the building that's in. "If I can find a way to exfil, I will." Which is not a lie. It's not. He'll get out if he can, but he's not leaving Parti behind. The ground floor is a bad bet right now, so he wastes a pair of security guards as they come running in from the foyer. "On the move." He turns and moves up the stairs. His best chance for getting out, and odds are, their mark, are on the third. In the mean time he's working on those birds above them and still inbound. "Reapers in thirty." He announces.

The soldiers land in squads and split off into fire teams. As the most visible and heavily armed targets, Partisan and Shift draw the lions share of the fire as Sonic "Whump guns" designed to incapacitate fire on both. .223 fire from M4's pings around Parti's position and off Shift's back. Seeing him go all "rock man" on them, someone decides that really, what Shift needs is some 40mm HE from a grenade launcher. Which is not… the usual SRD fare…


"Give me a minute, I'll open up a route!"She grunts, as a 5.56 ploughs through her forearm but that doesn't stop her as she mounts that hood and rests a boot on the Celebrity's roof, it's fucking suicide for even her. She's tough but, even she has limits right? That Pecheneg barks to life, pounding out fire as she works her way along the mass of troopers rushing her position. Sweeping them down with short five or six rounds bursts before swinging that eo-tech onto the next closest man, it's a move so utterly balls out aggressive and the fire she lays down so withering. It works.

It just doesn't work forever, no matter how bold the gesture. Rounds come pouring in like bees, impacting her chest plate with audibly -thuds-, whilst others zip through her stomach before a string finally strikes home where it matters. Her knee is blown out in a mess, splattered over the Car she's now kneeling upon as well as the van behind her. "FUCK YOUR SHIT!" Comes her more or less trademark battle cry as that PKP surges onward, chewing up links, spitting out high velocity death and smoldering like a forge.Her previously ruined forearm already moving to try and free her next ammo belt, only to find the belt mangled beyond all use. Another short burst catches her in her lower spine, before walking up her chest rig and ploughing into that mask. Spilling Part over into a tangle in front of the Chevy. Her helmet goes skipping down the street, with a partially fragmented 5.56 wedged inside the kevlar pot.


Being in the thick of things and not trailed by Jericho has caused a slew of obscenities to form in Shift's mind, but he's too busy to let 'em loose. He grabs hold of a line after knocking a soldier clean of it, and begins climbing as fast he can. He doesn't, however, notice the heavy artillery coming his way. To rounds hit him, leaving heavy dents in his super solid body and erupting him in flame. He goes flying, grasping hold of the line in defiance. The pendulum motion brings him upon another line, just as the one he's holding is burned out above him. So, he snatches the next line and goes swinging again, like fucking Tarzan.

Rock-like teeth are exposed in a crackling snarl as he resumes climbing, up and up, his body smoking as he goes. It hurts like hell, but his only advantage is going to be from -inside- one of those machines.

He can see his target in sight, the open port through which the soldiers had dropped. If only he can get up there before more heavy artillery takes him out…


Jericho clears the stairwell into the ruined and on-fire second floor. Four men are still there. There's a flurry of fire exchange both ways as the shocked security guards scramble for cover. Three of them don't make it. The fourth puts a magnum slug into Jericho's chest. The SAPI plate buckles and his sternum cracks. "Damn." He coughs. "Eagle out." Wings open and flap hard, sending everything not nailed flying out the nearest window, including the guard with the shotgun. Okay. New plan. Time to get out. Can't let whatever Parti's doing out there to hold them off be for nothing. He makes for the window himself, flares his wings to slow his descent and he hits the ground with a roll about twenty feet from the Partisan.

The bird Shift is ascending is listing slightly as his superdense weight throws off the center of gravity. The pilot is struggling to keep it in a hover and not doing as well as might be liked. More grenade fire arcs his way, but at this point between his own ascent and the Partisans fire, it's an open question if it'll hit.

Partisan is drawing a *lot* of attention and thus fire now. Jericho's KRISS chatters into action as he rises. Three SRD go down, though he's moving a bit slowly.

Reaper drones are like Predators… but worse. Full missile load, M61 Vulcan cannon. Loiter time from God Himself. Three of them come screaming down onto the scene. The first one strafes the yard wildly, chewing up the road, the yard and the house with 20 mm cannon fire. And then Parti hears over the radio… "Gotcha." Drones are not the thing to send at a hacker. The second one plows into the road, skids 100 yards and catches fire near the bar Odame was at. The third pulls up, firing, downing the first and sending rounds into one of the SRD birds opposite Shift.


Part grunts and groans, her Injuries seem to have stopped healing but any number of those hits she's taken should be fatal. Still she writhes, working herself onto her stomach as a hand drunkenly gropes after her mask and peels it off. The mask brings with it ha…oh jesus christ there's…that isn't just hair. Blood washes onto the pavement as that mask comes away, one eye's gone completely black and nearly swollen shut. She's got intestine spilled out onto the pavement, her legs are nearly pulped and below the shoulder her left arm is basically shot away. Still she coughs, and wretches and with her one good arm starts to drag herself out from behind cover. She gets halfway out into the street, before her head comes to rest against the pavement. Coughing and sputtering up blood, her good right arm blindly trying to work the clasp on her holster before she draws still. There's a slow exhale, and then it starts.

It's a sound you feel more than hear, deep in the pit of your chest. A rapid pulsing beat which grows slower, and slower. As the beats slow down, The temperature around Partisan begins to fall. Blood and spilled intestine freeze against the pavement, frost begins to form in a thick sheet. Parked cars lights begin to pulse in time with that beating, streetlamps overhead even in the daylight begin to flicker on and off in perfect time. For miles, the magically inclined are instantly made aware of something's pending arrival until…the beat stops. The shot to hell woman exhales slowly, and all those lights? They start going out, batteries die, fuses trip, as something..somewhere siphons up the power around the fallen Partisan…


This time, Shift sees the grenade fire coming. He snarls at it and blurts out, "Kwa'tana Pomee!" before hauling himself skyward. The bird lurches to the side, and the port all but swallows up the African, whose body began to revert the moment he vaulted himself free of the cable.

Kwabena hits the ceiling with a thud, but he's still in the process of 'softening', for lack of a better word. He leaves a dent in the fuselage, but it helps to throw the bird back on course, at least enough that the pilot won't be staring down the barrel of a crash. When he hits the deck, he's in human form again, but he's making extra special effort to prevent himself from bring turned to smoke form. He'd simply lose too much mass! It leaves him with a couple of cracked ribs, something he's not entirely used to, and it throws him off for a moment or two.

Just in time for a pair of bullets to strafe through him. While he can prevent himself from going smoke in most circumstances, he's not well trained enough to willingly take a bullet. Two tufts of smoke go flying, but it's superficial. "You son of a bitch!" He charges for the pilot, throwing a good, solid punch right at his face while his other hand moves to grapple with the pilot's sidearm. He barely notices it, save for the unsettling feeling in his chest, that something is happening below. All he cares about is wrestling control from the pilot, gaining control… even if the lights on the flying machine's controls are flickering.


Jericho brings the now hacked reaper around for another pass at the SRD birds. Fortunately, though he didn't see Kwabena go up into one, he's not targeting that one yet. "Missile lock." He broadcasts to anyone still listening. "Fox three!" An short range Air to Air missile lances out from the drone and blows a second SRD bird to pieces. Large, dangerous chunks of fuselage rain down on the street and yard, causing a momentary halt to all the shooting as absolutely everyone scrambles for cover. This includes the hacker, who ends up about five feet from Partisan behind a piece of ruined masonry. Sudden, arcing pain shoots through his chest. He's not sure what's happening, though he can see his HUD flickering. "The… hell…?" He gasps, momentarily unable to move.

Two birds down and the two that don't have a Shift on board are starting to move, realizing that their air support has been turned against them. The pilot Odame is wrestling grabs at his arm… but he's seated and caught by surprise. He's in a bad place, in short.

There's still a good thirty or so heavily armed SRD soldiers and while they've stopped shooting for this very moment… that's not gonna last long.


The frost turns into snow, as it saps the moisture right out of the air. Partisan's form is slowly obscured, and then seemingly dissolves into the roadway leaving only a few lumps where her equipment now lays. The snow though, doesn't all hit the ground it stops a foot or so above the frost covered ground and comes to rest on something unseen. Slowly taking shape, but exactly what shape is the question. Then, slowly comes a stirring. The snow covered form rolls upright, but the shape is utterly inhuman. The proportions just aren't right, even as it's head rolls skyward to let out a howl. Glass shatters, and the snow quickly falls away to reveal the real Partisan. Seven foot eight inches of utterly inhuman monster, all teeth, muscle and claws. That ladies and gents, is a mother fucking werewolf. Cast in a sort've rusty nutmeg sort've color, with a stark white pattern overlayed across the pelt across it's head. A wolf's skull mask, almost like painted on war paint.

Those brilliant yellow eyes snap open, and it get's immediately to work. Exploding from a dead rest in a dead man's sprint, because that's what you call the first SRD trooper the big wolf tackles. Sinking it's jaws into his throat and ripping it free amid a properly blood curdling scream, you can't fault the next nearest guy for balking. The wolf turns and opens him up hip to face with a single swipe of those big claws that leaves chunks of him to rain down after his comrades. Yep, that's a motherfucking grade A man eating werewolf right there!


Both Odame and the pilot are briefly caught off guard when the windshield shatters and the sight of Partisan's reformation is laid before them on the street below. It's Kwabena who responds first, cracking the pilot's face back against his headrest, before ripping his harness free. Moments later, the pilot is screaming on his descent to the earth, and Kwabena is behind the controls.

Now, he's never flown one of these beasts before. Hell, he's never -flown- before. But he does a lot of reading, and has studied some avionics. Sitting down, he quickly looks over everything, making a rough estimate of how the thing works before grabbing the controls. The bird is suddenly moving away from its compatriots, flying a bit haphazardly in the direction of the Werewolf and Jericho. "Please don't shoot me out of de sky, you crazy fucks!" he calls over the engine noise. No way they'll hear him, of course.


Jericho's eyes widen when he manages to pull himself to his feet. The pains in his chest and arms worry him. He'll have to get that checked later… but for now… Well shit. She told him she was a werewolf but hearing that and seeing it are two entirely different things. Once more Partisan is drawing the lion's share of the attention from the troops on the ground. No idiots, they're backing, seeking cover and directing those grenade launchers and whump guns at her, hoping at least to slow her down while the SRD ground team rolls in. Too bad they're a good ten minutes away. One particularly bold soldier loads up an incendiary grenade, thermite possibly which is waaaay out of SRD's usual arsenal, and lets it rip.

Up in the air it won't take Shift long to realize the triggers on the stick control dual riot guns, automatic 40 mm grenade launchers usually loaded with gas or smoke but today, HE is the order of the day. SRD came in hot for some reason, wonder why. Jericho's drone is buzzing around for another pass and there's two other SRD birds angling for better shots at the Partisan-Wolf. No shortage of targets up here…

Jericho quickly finds that while Parti has most of the attention, someone still has some to spare for him. Probably objected when he shot someone lining up a shot at her flank. In any case he's dumping rounds at a knot of soldiers on the far side of the villa that are similarly unloading on him, unaware that he… has a Reaper..


She moves with downright supernatural speed and agility, but what exactly did you expect right? Grabbing one SRD trooper by his chest rig, and slamming the back of his head against a nearby fender hard enough to nearly take that head clear off. Then she's on to the next, bowling the poor fuck off his legs and swinging him down into the ground where she makes short work of the proned out trooper. The grenade gets her attention with a snarl as it hits right nearby, and immediately she's off. Clearing like twenty something feet as she swooshes over a crashed car to plow into the grenadier and twist his head almost completely off his body.

The rounds pour in, but well not many seem to even hit and those that do? Well they're not having much effect, but she's a -werewolf- right? The wolf moves with a downright cheater's grace among those troopers, ripping apart every man she comes across. It's brutal and savage, and downright gut churning for many but she just seems to run all the faster with every passing second. Working out the kinks it would seem.


The SRD bird levels it's flight a bit, still coming closer to where Jericho and Partisan were located at last sight. Shift is still getting used to the controls, muttering under his breath as he goes. "Gotta go be on mah good bahaviah, drink some few in a nice neighborhood. Good FUCKING idea, Kwabena!"

Finally feeling a bit more comfortable, he abruptly swings the bird around. It flies as if it's a bit ass heavy, and has to swing back the other way before Shift is able to line up a good shot. He goes for the grenade launchers, and begins disgorging munitions upon one of the other SRD birds. "Eat dis, you mutant-hating, racist fucks!"


The cockpit of the bird explodes and separate from the rest of it. The fuselage falls fifty feet and crashes into what's left of the villa yard, quite on fire. The remaining bird swings around on Shift, door gunner going cyclic on him. Rounds ping into the fuselage and whine past Odame's face as it comes around on him.

Most of the remaining SRD are rabbiting. Sure there's still twenty or so of them left, but that's still two thirds of them dead in one or another gruesome fashion. Only a few have the sense to lay down covering fire. The knot engaging Jericho are caught off guard as his reaper drone rains down cannon fire on them and then follows up with a 57 mm rocket. Seeing no further threats to engage, Jericho rises and makes for the safety of better cover at a run, preferably somewhere he can give Parti some fire support from anyone else with a grenade launcher.

And that's when the sniper rifle fires. It goes right through his chest, through one plate and out the other, missing his heart by millimeters. Still collapses his lung nicely though and the energy transfer puts him down on his face. In the ruined door of the manor stands the youngest deputy commander in the SRD. Maria Eddings. She works the bolt on her rifle, loading a new round.


The big wolf pivots on a dime, sweeping in a hurry right back the way it came. Sixty plus miles an hour maybe, maybe less it's hard to judge really but it's fucking fast. By time she turns to find a wolf coming for her it's -WAY- too late. the Impact cracks the door frame, structural 2/4s behind the siding shatter and blow drywall back into the house. It's a nasty hit sure, but the wolf isn't done. Grabbing her by the face with one hand, before ripping that rifle out've her hands and flinging it away. Then, well she bowls the deputy commander over and gets to work. Closing those jaws around her face and shaking like a dog with a chew toy, until everything above the shoulders is just wet pulp. She stands motionless a moment, before stepping back out've the house and hurling the body towards the SRD troopers are mostly bunched up.

Distraction by dead body delivered, she takes off. Clearing the van, the fence and most of the street in a single leap before turning and heading to scoop up Aspect. Yes it's a giant man eating werewolf, yes it's a giant man eating werewolf covered in blood and gore and whatnot, Yeah sure it's a seven foot slaughter machine. It's still the Partisan however, and she's still going to kick Aspect's ass for getting shot.


"Aw, -Christ-!" curses Shift as the rounds whip past his face. "Dis is a -getaway- vehicle! Not a moddah fucking shooting gallery!" Yeah, he's shouting at whomever is piloting the one remaining SRD bird. It's entirely ineffective, aside from taking his mind off cracked ribs, hot skin, and the eerie sensation that still lingers in his chest like an icepack. Let's not even talk about the fact that he's doing all this for some stranger and a Werewolf. Let's just say… he really, really dislikes these anti-meta types.

Grenade fire puts an end to that bird. Poor sucker was just too slow, and Shift isn't afraid of bullets. "Let's get de fuck outta here," he grumbles, then swings the bird around one last time.

The commandeered SRD bird drops down, one door open and the other half busted off its track. Shift peers out past the busted window and shouts down at them, "Get your asses on board, for fuck's sake!" His fingers rap nervously upon the controls, watching as the wolf gathers her fallen comrade.


Jericho's still conscious when the werewolf picks him up, even though he very much wishes he were not. He could still even move under his own power but… there's probably no use arguing that point. Besides, getaway bird. Very thoughtful of… whomever that is. Shift, right? Yeah… he thinks that's right. Reaching out with his online suite, he fries the transponder. There. Let them track that. The drone? He's done with that, and crashes it into the largest group of still living SRD he can find to give them something else to think about while the three of them bug out.


The wolf and wounded chew up the distance in a heartbeat, before she makes the leap to board that bird. Panting softly as she ever so delicately lays Jericho out on the deck. Cutting away his kevlar with careful claws, and tossing it aside before ripping open his shirt to expose the wound. It only takes a look around, until she finds the medical kit and rips it apart with maybe too much force. Only to ever so delicately rip that OLAES bandage open, peel out the plastic occlusive layer and get to wrapping that wound.

Shift gets a chuff, almost bark which is probably wolf for, well who knows what the fuck the big wolf is trying to say. So instead she just reaches forward and points, Northward.


He doesn't speak Wolf, but Shift understands pointing. He glances once from Partisan to Jericho before swinging the bird around, pulling some altitude, and heading northward. He doesn't say anything, having expended the last of his snark on the battlefield, but not too long into the flight, he simply begins to smirk. SHIELD leash or not, the man can't help but love a good ride.


Through and through. Jericho was lucky. The collapsed lung is the only damage. He does have a pretty nasty exit wound on his shoulder. It looks old, but Parti may well suspect it's new and perhaps he's somehow able to recover more quickly. It's not all the way healed so… clearly not that quickly. "Damn…" He gasps. "No matter how much I get shot… still sucks ass every time… Thanks Part." He doesn't talk after that, still awake but finding the effort more than it's worth at the moment. Police and EMS finally arrive. SRD and the National Guard spin it as a tragic accident, both unable to admit exactly why so much heavy firepower was in the area. That's for the news… odds are good the police will be given the real scoop and told to keep quiet and help.

Man. SHIELD and the NYPD are gonna hate this.

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