To Kill is Inhuman

Summary:
January 17, 2015: Black Bolt suffers an attempt on his life. Other heroes help to save him.

Mutant Town

That part of town where all the mutants live.


Characters

NPCs

  • Secret Empire

Mood Music:
[*<http://insert.video.or.music.link.here>]


MUTANT TOWN
SUNSET

Plans to keep reconquer an alien civilization are perhaps the most important thing Black Bolt spends his time with. To think his brother now sits upon the throne has got to be the only motivation someone needs to devote their entire being to winning back what is rightfully his. But let's be honest here, one cannot simply spend 24 hours a day, 7 days a week doing this stuff, not even the great Black Bolt. Everyone needs a break, and it's during those breaksthose creases in the armor platingit is there where Maximus the Mad is looking to strike.

It was noticed, sometimes, that Black Bolt does indeed enjoy going out for a walk every so often, and though the strolls never seemed to follow a pattern, Maximus was willing to pay handsomely through his own networks to see that the job is done and done his way—a way that this might end successfully for him.

Everything is almost in place. Now it's just a matter of time.

THE TRISKELION

"Steve?" says the operator who is set to monitor New York City. "Are you seeing this?"

Captain America peers over the shoulder and looks toward the computer banks. The operator continues: "It seems that particulates of some sort are being added to parts of the air over Manhattan."

"How?" Captain America asks as he begins to buckle his helm. "I suppose the better question is why?"

"I have no idea. You wanna check it out?"

"Already on it."

Within moments, Cap's Harley burns out of the under ramps of the facility, headed towards Mutant Town.

Sneaksneaksneak. Being in hiding sucks, it does. When she's not onboard Starfire's ship, hiding in a safehouse or whatever, she's often helping keep the safehouse stocked, going to classes or trying to keep her promise to Magneto to look after the people in M-Town. Lunair is dressed much differently from normal. A sleek leather jacket, two black manacle style bracelets, her hair pulled back and dark jeans. Her car got exploded harder than a poll on if people want free money and cake. It's been a rough couple of weeks for Lunair.

Today, she's driving a sleek, dark purple Vespa with a couple of packages tied to the back. Yes, she has a helmet. Lunair does not tempt Darwin or nature if she can help it. Her path takes her through the section for her people. And then… the sky is … being kind of green? She slows, to look around.

And how is Shayera involved in all of this? She's not. She just happened to be there at the right place, wrong time. After hearing from Sirena that Mutant town has the best rolling Mexican vendor cart that Terran money could buy, she was there with bills crushed between her fingers, shoved in the face of Paco for a styrofoam plate which doubled down on the enchiladas and cheese, pinto beans, and puerto rican rice with the bits of ham and olive.

Shut up and take her money, would be the phrase, but the lingering gaze upon the plate spoke more words than not.

There was no being out of place for her, wings spread high in glee as the money (too much of it) was handed over for the greasy and artery (we're all people, everyone shits) and colon clogging treat, top popped open and fork dug in which draws out a clenching of a throat, swath of cheese hard to swallow.

"You. You rotund Terran. My people shall sing the songs of your glory once I return home." The fork was pointed in his direction, and planted in the plate of the warriors food, the hint at taking the fat man home with her left played upon his thoughts as she strolls off towards the street proper. She did not notice the green, hazy mist on high, but her nose twitches and quirks as she practically smashes her nose into the food to take a whiff. A turn upon her heels had her returning towards the cart, plate shoved towards the man aptly named Paco.

"If you have sullied my feast with your natural biohazard I will split you from stomach to gullet. MAKE ONE ANEW. NOW."

It had been a long ride from Texas; Scott Summers has looked better. He's in need of a shave, and his leather jacket is riddled with insect corpses and the signs of a long trip on the road. The cold, chill of winter, as he drew north, was a welcome stab of reality. A reminder of the reality he was headed home to.

A diversion into Mutant Town is certainly not the most logistically sound direction of travel when headed upstate. There are tolls, tunnels, and of course, Manhattan's ugly traffic. Scott clearly has come to Mutant Town on purpose.

With his motorcycle parked three blocks away, Scott is walking alongside an old friend, shooting the breeze. "Well, I pushed her pretty hard on the way back, you know? I don't think the clutch is gonna go out before I get home, but, you know. Be prepared. … Darren?"

Scott's friend, Darren McGibbs, is craning his neck upward, clearly distracted.

"Earth to Darren, do you read?"

"The sky is green."

Lifting his head, Scott peers at the sky, but all he can see is ruby red. "Green, huh?"

There are many things that Attilan has over the human-populated world, chief amongst them is their lack of disease and pollution. The drawback of breathing nothing but fresh, clean air? When you get exiled to live with the filthy humans, you don't tend to do well at first. Black Bolt and every member of the Royal Family that went with him into exile spent several days sick as dogs, nearly running out of the supply of advanced medicine they brought with them when they left. Since then, they've all built a slight tolerance to the smog-filled air of New York, but there are still some days when it hits them exceptionally hard.

Today, unfortunately, is shaping up to be one of those days.

Black Bolt never brings a change of clothes on his many ventures into the city, so when he clutches his throat to suppress the need to cough in full, black and silver gear, he draws more looks than he might normally expect to. Desperate not to blow up half the block, he staggers against a wall and massages his chest until the urge subsides, whereupon he turns his gaze skyward and frowns.

Ten seconds later he's sprinting through the pedestrians, back towards his safehouse.

That green haze? Well it's a mixture of a particulate to hold certain little nasty guys called Influenza. Though the normal people will get the flu from it in a couple of days, the little buggers will run wild inside of Black Bolt, procreating and expanding at levels that graph like j-curves.

All thanks to Dr. Alchemy, who has taken the time out of his day from being one of the Rogues to get paid. Just like any rogue would. He's long gone by now, but that's not the immediate threat. It's more the assassins who are shooting towards Black Bolt's antennae that might make people worried.

A motorcycle roars from the south and Captain America, wearing circular goggles peers high above. He analyzes the targets, or potential targets, from the trajectories of the sniper's rifle shaft.

A leaping Captain America puts his shield just in front of Black Bolt, having no idea how powerful the Inhuman he is protecting truly is. But as bullets glance off every which way, the assassins are clearly ticked off.

With the first shot, the mass of mutants that make up this area all hit the ground and begin screaming and crying. There are more shots; coming from high—windows in high rises, that sort of thing. Between the echoes, it's hard to tell how many there are.

GAME: Hawkgirl has set the pose order to Steve, Lunair, Shayera, Scottie-boy, Blackgar

Poor guy. It's not just lotion tissues vs regular, is it? And Black bolt getting the flu most be awful. One wrong sneeze and half your house just landed in Jersey. Which might be cause in and of itself to sneeze again. It never ends. At least these days, Lunair's got a nice, normal immune system but getting doused in flu is gonna suck so, so hard. It seems Lunair was delivering food to a mutant who couldn't afford it this week. Sure, she's kinda murderous but she /tries/.
And then, the sniping starts. Her breaks screech near a mass of people. Who's shooting? Where? Are there glints of sniper scopes? She parks (street legally, don't wanna park illegaly in front of Captain Freaking America, here) her vespa and hops off. Armor comes up, although its air filtering is futile. She's gonna be chugging soup and cursing microbes in a couple of days. Nevertheless, she looks up, trying to spot the snipers. "Um. It's okay, let's go inside. Please." She's - so not good at herding people. But she can at least pull a portal gun to try to get up there once she spots someone. Just - gotta - make that spot check.

The fearful gaze of Paco was not upon Shayera, it was lifted towards the sky, the green mists slow descent causes Shayera to drop her fork into her food, dig out another bite, and toss the plate of heavy food right back upon the cart from whence it came. Alright. Two more fork fulls, and then she was away, utensil tucked into her lips as she walks through and past the screaming and running few, the sounds of gunfire like music to her ears as she reaches back to.. find.. nothing.

Yeah, she left her newly favored weapon back in Metropolis. Here's to hoping this worlds government doesn't figure out where, for it will be shoved rightly up tookus' just before she takes her toy home. So she would have to go about this the different way; she hadn't planned on fighting today and meant to skirt down as soon as she had her delicious treat. So she runs, ducking off slightly into the corner in betwixt two buildings to pound at the circular object that connects her harness twice to mimic a beat of her chest, fingers press and turn as Nth flies and fires to life to coat her in golden armor that brings wings to strike out like a clash of metal on a razors edge.

With a crouch of her knees and a quick take off, she launches herself high into the air, away from the screaming and hollaring, bitching and crying, clashing of the carts so that she could focus on one sound and one sound only. The wisp of bullets that rain down upon the streets.

There was a particularly glib way in which Scott had responded to Darren. He couldn't see green, not with these glasses at least. In very short order, however, Scott's dry demeanor is forced to change.

It happens when the left side of his face becomes splattered with blood and bits of flesh.

"Darren!" Scott catches the man's limp body as it slumps, lifeless and sporting a hole from temple to neck. The stray bullet went through gray matter and jugular alike, which explains the blood spilling everywhere.

A second passes, during which Scott simply stares at his friend. His jaw tightens while he lowers the body to the sidewalk. The skin around his eyes begins to tighten, and when he removes the glasses, his eyes are screwed tightly shut. The glasses are stuffed into his duster, and he's almost knocked over by a frantic pedestrian, before the hand emerges wielding a single lensed visor. The item is fixed over his face, a vicious scowl spread upon his lips. "Everyone, stay low and seek shelter in the closest building!" he shouts, while scanning around, looking for hostiles with a hand pressed to the control knob by his ear.

Blackagar can already feel the virus seeping through his system as his limbs grow heavy, his head pounds, and his stomach does back-flips with every step. There's far too much at stake to stop, though. Clearly something is going on, and his first instinct is that he's the target, an instinct that's only proved correct when the bullets start flying towards his head — no, not his head, his antenna.

Barely registering Captain America's presence, let alone his assistance, the former king of Attilan stumbles to his knees as he adds the sudden super-pollution and the curiously luckily aimed shots together and gets Maximus the Mad. Truthfully, the list of his enemies that could find him in exile is actually pretty small considering its usual size, but the double-pronged attack designed specifically with his particular weaknesses in mind leaves no doubt as to who sent the would be assassins.
One hand still clasping his throat, Black pounds his other fist into the ground in anger at his brother's treachery. The sudden flood of emotion gives him the focus he needs to materialize a particle/electron field over his mouth, filtering out all particulates from the air as he begins gulping down wonderfully fresh oxygen. While it helps with the need to cough, his efforts do little to stop the spread of the virus already in his system, but he should have several minutes before that really takes him out of the action.

Silently, he pulls himself to his feet and offers Cap a slight nod of thanks, before his eyes turn skyward again and he wraps himself in a field of anti-gravitons, rocketing up towards the roof tops at near sonic speeds. There's no pause to search for scopes or shooters, even the brief second he takes to stop his upward momentum invites three snap shots that miss by a hair's breadth. Instead, he immediately drops onto the roof of a building suspected to harbor a sniper, presses his palms to the ground, and presses outwards with a concussive force of several tons, collapsing the ceiling of the apartment below him as he drops in and begins combing the area for killers.

Deadpool returns to OOC Land.

Now that Black Bolt is on the move, assassins begin to show themselves more readily as they switch positions in order to finish the job. Some are street level, some are in windows and appear in other windows. A few are even repelling from the sky onto nearby rooftops.

In all there are maybe 100 to 150. They're all dressed the same; a military style outfit except the dark tones one would usually associate with are replaced by a crimson color. Now that the cover is blown, they seem to scurry around in a particular fashion as if they planned for this. Presumably, they would have backup plans, then.

In order to keep Captain America and other chivalrous minded heroes at bay, a dozen begin firing indiscriminately into the crowds, killing a handful immediately. Those in the buildings and on rooftops continue firing on Black Bolt until he dips down into the room below.

Ironically, the leader of the Inhumans crushed one of his would be killers as he burst through the ceiling. But as he begins searching through the building, his antennae are being lined up from across the street. As he moves into the next room, he takes shots that come through the window towards him. Below, the assassins begin to flee, leaping out of windows on ropes.

Meanwhile, Lunair, Hawkgirl, and Scott aren't considered to be a threat as of yet and are pretty free to do what they will. Captain America is bumrushing some murderers now that Black Bolt has departed.

Oh geez. Serious? That many? And she thought the metahuman hunters after HER were obnoxious. Then again, at least these guys seem to be just gun nuts. Lunair is finding she is not so good at the people herding. Armwave… armwave… sadness. Okay, then. Armored up, scooter safely parked, it's time to get helpful in the best way she can. Sadly, she doesn't know Darren is there or Scott. Not until someone nearly knocks poor Scott over. Waitaminute. How many guys wearing ruby glasses DOES she know?

Well. "Hey!" Okay, then. Time for her to help the only way she can. She's no doctor, but she does have a portal gun and an assault rifle. She'll figure out where a few are and pick them off. Swinging easily, she seems to have figured out rocket boots. Not well enough to fly, but well enough to boost herself and portal around. "That's" BLAM "Just." BLAM. "RUDE." More shooting and violence occures.

Ah, there they are. She was going to grab for the five that scale down the building as such. Her wings extend as she tilts, firing off in the sky like a rocket as she begins to dive down towards the attackers. Surely, no one will know or see what she has done, for she's moving fast, cutting close to the building with wings extended, clipping each assassin that she passes to cause them to crash upon the building. A dozen few.
Upside down loop, and a land in the middle of the masses she's cut down, her wings a threatening extension attached to an unarmed, yet armored woman.

And really? Who does that? To stop and offer witty banter, to allow those who kill others to attack her first? No. Not this one, for she jumps right into the fight, Nth clad hands punching and delivering hard blows that break jaws and knee caps.

A low figure skaters rapid twirl to slice tendon with the blades edge of feathers, coupled with a hit here and there upon her person upon visible flesh that only enrages the bird woman. So they were descending fast, joining the fight, rapid fire grazing open skin, bouncing from Nth and hitting their own.

Upon both sides of the street there was chaos atop of the roof, the one collapsed would soon have a twin as Shayera quick flies up and descends with a hard landing which collapses the roof and makes it their /home/.

"Keep moving! Get indoors! Quickly!" Scott's even motioning about with his free hand, but his true attention is drawn onto something else. The dial is moved to a setting that is non-lethal, but certainly well into the 'knock you on your ass' range. The assassins are making themselves an easy target now, and he's got this little advantage we call 'look-and-shoot'.

A tight, red optic beam goes soaring through the crowds, narrowly missing one or two residents before striking gold. The crimson-military attacker goes flying backward, knocked right on his ass against a filthy dumpster.

Two more blasts sear through the crowd, serving to scatter them faster, but there's no collateral damage where Scott Summers is concerned. You see, where other people to out drinking and hit on girls, or learn to play the guitar or write novels, Scott Summers conducted target practice in the danger room.

*ZART!* "All that target practice pays off," he remarks darkly toward Lunair. *ZART!* He's side stepping through the crowd while blasting away, hoping that it might throw off any return fire. "Doesn't it?" *ZART! ZART!* "There's…" *ZART!* "…too many of them."

*ZART! ZART!*

Unfortunately for the assassins, Black Bolt has nothing even approaching a desire spare the lives of the human scum that dared to attack him. The first gets a one-ton punch to the throat, splattering the wall behind him with blood and bone fragments, while the next two are used to block several shots meant for the former King of the Inhumans and promptly discarded out a window. Another takes a kick to the side the snaps his spine, collapses both lungs, and sends him hurtling into a fridge to dent the door with his concussed skull.

Continuing on in such a manner, Blackagar eventually manages to pick off killer after killer until he faces the last in a commandeered bedroom. With two rapid strikes, he snaps the man's sniper in half and is just about to send a small, controlled concussive blast from his palm to send him crashing through a wall when a lucky shot snaps off the last inch of the right antenna prong.

The effect is immediate, as he momentarily loses control of his power. Instead of the calculated attack he meant to unleash, his palm glows blue as twenty-five tons of force turn his assailant into a red mist and the wall explodes outwards with a cracking *boom* that rains debris down onto the street below and opens Blackagar up to another shot that slams home in his shoulder blade.

As Scott and Lunair talk, they mow down red-clad baddies with reckless abandon. The street is littered with guys who are knocked unconscious. But because of the number, they're put at a disadvantage. Scott will sense that he's begun to be flanked on each side, as the Secret Empire is attempting to get him into a crossfire situation. Lunair, who is close to Scott suffers the same concern.
Hawkgirl has several well trained operatives leap out in front of her as she makes her way through the floor of the building. Like ants on candy, they seem to be everywhere and they keep coming. Out of the corner of her excellent eye, Hawkgirl can see, across the street, that Black Bolt has been hit and is down.

Meanwhile, Steve is knee deep in battle himself, engaging as many as he can at the same time in order to prevent the wonton death of innocents. As more run, it becomes easier to see and fight. It also gives the Secret Empire less targets.

Lunair looks uneasy. She's already been flanked and it ended in an exploded car with her flopping out the other side. Fortunately, it being New York traffic, no one probably noticed the exploding car *too* much in the flow of traffic, right? Ahem. She seems uneasy. As her rifle runs out of ammo, she dismisses it and calls another. If she could see Black Bolt fight, it would probably really cool. But for her part, she's picking off killers as she can in turn. Her eyes widen a bit at the blasts. She's going to remember that noise. It still startles her. Lunair is quiet, "Yeah. I wonder who the heck sends this many guys…" They are unfamiliar to her, amidst all of the zarts, gun shots, Hawksmitings (various noises - use your imagination) and America'ings. "Hey, um. Being surrounded makes it easier, right?" More targets, less problems? She's going to pull a grenade unless someone requests she stop.

*BLAM BLAM BLAM*

Bullets bounce off of wings that cover her in a heart shaped shield with arms tucked in, and soon splayed off. The fork that was within her mouth, spat out towards the ground of three and were soon rushed at, as she stops within striking distance, sending a half hail slice in an upward angle to drop the three of them in one fell swipe. With a turn and a launch, her arms extend to catch the rest of the four, using them as shields to barrel through the side of the brickmasoned building, dropping them onto the middle of the street with a force enough to explode spines as she heads straight for Black Bolt.

She saw him go down out the corner of her eye, and with the way they were shooting at him before? He couldn't have been an enemy. This enemy deals in guns, not the power to level the roof as she had just done. Crossing the way, she glances down towards the three surrounded in the streets, her hand lifting towards the middle of her harness to draw her ship into play. Too many people to injure, so little time. And soon, they'll learn what the Thanagarian meaning of Defcon-1 is.

Her wings arch as she skids to a stop in the building, her clawed hand reaching out to grip Black Bolt.. that's if he doesn't decline her aid by the uninjured wrist to tug him to his feet.

Surely her armor and her are bloodied, and if it wasn't obvious that she was a friendly, she gives two hard thumps to her chest to signify. And a nod to seal the deal. Lets rock.

"Damn," curses Scott between optic blasts while echoing Lunair's observation. "Not exactly. We're too exposed." As more people scatter, they're also becoming very much in need of cover, and the window to find cover is closing, quickly. Fortunately, Scott's would-be sidekick has this weird knack for conjuring things out of, well, matter itself. "How big can you go?" he asks Lunair. "Bus. There, and there." He points with his free hand toward places that would essentially cut off the enemy's flanking efforts if, say, a very large bus were to suddenly knit itself into existence into each of those places. "We need cover!"

Here's hoping that Lunair has the chops to create something so large! Otherwise, they're about to become overwhelmed, and at that point, the only way is down.

*ZART-ZART-ZART!!*

It's hard to say if Scott is recognizing any of the other combatants. If he sees them, he's not acknowledging them. Of course, his motions do seem to be influencing those attackers who flank he and Lunair, by pushing them toward the place where Captain America is engaged. Wouldn't it be funny if, suddenly, the attackers found themselves flanked between the world's first supersoldier and two incognito X-Men? That would be a strategic feat of impressive proportions.

Have we also mentioned that Scott Summers plays a mean game of Risk? God damned strategic genius, he is…

It takes a second for Black Bolt to realize he's been hit as the adrenaline pumping through his veins kills most of the sensation in his body. This, along with his years of training, helps to suppress any grunts or shouts of pain as he drops silently behind a nearly shattered bookcase and grips his shoulder to try and stem the bleeding. Thus, when Shayera comes hurtling into the room, he's already gathering breath for a last ditch attempt to defend himself. Luckily, before he can so much as open his mouth, she makes her intentions clear and, after a brief hesitation, he allows her to pull him to his feet with a curt nod of appreciation.

Captain America sees the man with the visor and does Scott Summers one better than flanking him. He gets into position down the street with dozens of Secret Empire agents between them. He gives a flip of the fingers towards himself while making eye contact with the visored hero and nods. Then, he puts up his shield.

But all the game planning won't be possible if that guy about to shoot Scott isn't taken care of, hint hint, Lunair.

Meanwhile, Hawkgirl and Black Bolt are now the subject of fire as the room they're in begins to explode in sparks of gunfire and dust from plaster and chipped wall-studs.

Lunair's - not really sure about the whole bus thing. "Well, in theory, yes. I am not sure I've ever pushed my absolute limits." And she really doesn't know about her intelligence being unusual. On the other hand, she did learn to invest in a weekend and now sensibly picks stocks. Hmm. But she can at least shift some stone over, if not buses thanks to creative use of portal gunning and a really, alarmingly deep understanding of physics and geometry. Weird. And maybe a few half-cars as she can find. "I'll try it la— Whoa." He's zarting like a boss, but even a boss has to watch out for snipers. She's not picking off any shooters, due to the whole shifting rubble and such around.

At least there's a new love match made today. Jerk Targeting Scott meets Bullet. A face to face match~ It's a bit messy, since she went for the kill to avoid Scott getting picked off. And now they can do their super cool laser move!

It's a damn shame that Shayera, in truth, was larger than life. Larger in the sense that, while far away? She seems tall as all get out, but up close?

She's a fucking midget amongst titans.

So once Black stands, she has to crane her neck to see him, and with a little smile, she turns and.. is pelted with fire. And it hurts.

She was the only thing standing in between the gunfire and an unarmed Bolt, her wings shoot up to provide a wall of cover, her hands pressed towards his shoulders in attempts to get him to duck as she braces herself against the fire. Her ship was still on the way yet it won't be there in time, and as much as she would /love/ to claim the Nth was powerful, she could not. Not when the fire towards their direction was critically aimed and intent to do harm.

But she holds true, pushing back against the pelted pressure, her wings taking a beating as her head hangs, knees nearly buckling forward as she does the all too familiar warcry of pain and anger to keep her appendages steady through the attack..

In approximately the same moment when Captain America motions for Scott, the incognito X-Man also notices that everything seems to bounce off the man's shield. Bullets, shrapnel, people (probably even orphans, but fortunately, we've reached our angst quota for the issue). The grim line of Scott's lips turns upward and becomes a smirk.

That dial is adjusted, widening the beam. "Luna, get behind me and get down!" He takes a sidestep around Lunair, crouches low upon bended knee, then opens the visor, aimed directly toward Captain America.
The optic blast damn near takes up the entire diameter of the shield. When it strikes, a resonating sound that's irritating to the ears splits the air, while dozens of little red beams bearing concussive force splatter in every direction. Enemies go down left and right, and there's a very real chance that various insurance companies may sue SHIELD after the property damage claims start rolling in. Scott, crouched low, leaves the beam open for a moment longer than usual, wincing as two richocheted beams go whizzing over his head.

The Captain America / Cyclops team-up. Shit just got turned up to 11.

As soon as Black Bolt is on his feet, the gunfire begins and Shayera is forcing him back down as she shields them both from getting torn to shreds. Despite the effectiveness of her armor, though, he can still see the pain she's suffering to act as a barrier against death, so his hand comes up, threading beneath her arm so he can hold his palm up towards the open wall behind her. Instantly, a translucent wall of layered electrons forms between them and the street, but it flickers and fades in spots as his broken antenna arcs blue electricity into the air.

Standing once again, he places his free hand on Shayera's shoulder and indicates the bookcase that was his cover until she arrived. It's not much to go on, but hopefully she gets the idea to take refuge. With a simple nod, he rockets back out into the air above the street and gains altitude, looking down to the bodies of those few civilians that were unable to escape the firefight. Though they are not his people, they accepted him into their home and sheltered him in his exile: Their deaths were unforgivable. Then and there, Blackagar makes a vow, that when his throne is retaken, Maximus would answer for his crime against the humans. Slowly, still shielding himself with a failing forcefield, he angles himself to face the remaining hordes of soldiers, the streets now free of bystanders. Still, they continue to fire on him and the few who stayed behind to help him. Anger builds up inside him, but he forces himself to calm down. Rampant emotions would only hinder his next move. Finally, he opens his mouth and whispers:

"Enough."

Scott's blast begins following along as Captain America bursts into a sprint, knocking out a host of red-clad agents with splintered beams of force. The X-man and the Star Spangled Avenger work together to make like the blades of a lawnmower, taking out enemies in one sweep.

By the time they're finished, there are no more agents on the lower level who are in any shape to do much of anything but moan.

Cap looks up and sees something he cannot quite comprehend fully. From almost nowhere the windows and much of the infrastructure in one of the buildings across the street at about the 12th floor just explodes. The building holds, luckily, but a split second later the windows blow out of the building behind it. And the building behind it, and building behind it. A focused and terrible blast and suddenly the shooting stops. All the shooting.

There's no way for Captain America to know that no civilians were killed. Not yet, anyways.

From high up in the night sky comes something that the Captain immediately things smacks of a UFO. It sidles up next to the building and at where he's standing, Steve can see two people enter the ship: Hawkgirl and Black Bolt. He knows neither, but he's certainly going to be investigating. Within moments they are gone, with destruction and bodies and three heroes left in their wake.


Back to: RP Logs

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License