larkers: (pic#12386247)
MEADOWLARK MODS ([personal profile] larkers) wrote in [community profile] meadowlarklogs2019-01-19 09:58 pm

EVENT LOG 003

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: September 10-11
WHAT: New Amsterdam's Morningstar recruits come under attack.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Violence, injury, death.


> EVENT LOG #003

"High noon" still has a resonating historical significance not lost on the people of New Amsterdam. Old cowboy movies, complete with John Wayne standing in a dusty, old street are imprinted upon people's memories, helping them recall a simpler past where grudges could be settled with guns. By 2511, these movies have been remade countless times over with different set pieces, but nostalgia continues to be an ever-present factor. It's not nostalgia that drives the UNA soldiers and Morningstar agents into position during this hour, but the time itself serves as a reminder. A call to a different time and a different past.

Outside, the sun burns bright, but people sleep soundly, shades drawn securely over their windows to create a false darkness. This is why the UNA strikes at noon: their targets will be vulnerable, comforted by the presence of daylight only a drawn shade away,

Across town, Morningstar's agents are preparing for their own strike. One of them makes a joke about the non hour. He's told to shut it. They have fifteen minutes. Is everyone ready? Their uniforms are black, tightly fitting. Each of them pulls their mask over their faces. Up ahead, there's a wall to scale.

Fifteen minutes and the plan goes into motion. Each agent knows the costs of this mission. Their last one ended up with numerous dead – lost – with no reward. UNA soldiers are far more threatening than the armed guards Morningstar faced on that day, but the reward is more sure. Worth the risk. They're secure in what they need to do.

Then it's time. Across the city, the UNA soldiers descend in perfect unison. Separate but thinking with one mind, one goal. Eliminate a festering problem, one that only stands to grow in a world haunted by chaos and trauma. It's their job to set things right. To restore order to a world that is currently without.

> THE SAFEHOUSE

About forty five minutes in to the widespread assault, El sends out a message to everyone in the safehouse. This time, zeir communication is immediate, without the steady scrolling of text. Prepared in advance:

Hey, so. Emergency everyone. Come to the safehouse ASAP. Morningstar agents are in trouble, including a number who have helped you behind the scenes. Gaby will tell you more once you get there.

Once everyone shows up, crowded inside the part of the safehouse with the cots, Gaby gives everyone the rundown. The risk. The place where the rest of the agents are – this last bit of information being shared with an uneasy edge, arms crossed and body language giving off her discomfort. There are other people at risk, people who can't fight, who try to undermine the corporations with their regular lives, doing their best to keep the people they care about safe from their rebellious activity.

After she hands out the gear, she insists that it must be returned. But Gaby isn't stupid. Her desperation is inherent in her decisions, in the information that follows: exposing most of the inactive safehouses, giving away the addresses of the people likely in danger. Every Morningstar contact in New Amsterdam is likely at risk. So far, agents in other megacities aren't being targeted – yet. But this operation could be a model for future UNA efforts to eliminate the Morningstar threat.

The safehouses are spread across the city. Typically present in disheveled and forgotten pieces of real estate, there will be squatters and homeless alike taking up space as they move inside with the agents. This may prove a risk, and they may need to be bribed to go elsewhere, offered food and supplies. Other safehouses will be beneath bars, convenience stores, and through the storage room in less expensive apartment buildings – businesses and buildings owned by long-time Morningstar agents, kept ready in the case of an emergency like this one.

None of the safehouses will be prepared for living with the exception of cots and communal restrooms ready for use. This is a problem, but not a priority. She'll ask that everyone get out there and save the lives of the agents. Bring them and their families in safely – the rest can be figured out after that.

> RESTORING ORDER

Given the limitations over real estate and space even in a city as large as New Amsterdam, every citizen lives in an apartment building. The great majority of them were meant to be built quickly, similar layouts and designs behind them. A quick bit of research will get anyone the floor plans for these places – they're publicly available, ready for potential tenants. Most of these places are no dreamhouse, however: small and contained, they show the lifestyle of the typical Morningstar agent.

Any of the agents with a child – and there will only ever be one per agent, with the restrictions on childbirth – will have a roomier place, with better furnishing and more space for a child to run and grow up. These places will afford the family within better privacy, and many of them have drones and advanced robotics to help maintain the household, even caring for their child and keeping the door locked as the UNA soldiers move inside.

Where it's viable, the majority of UNA soldiers will move through the front door of these buildings. Never numbered over five, these soldiers will take the endless staircase up, erasing what little chances there are to run into anyone along the way. The knocks are just a cover to soothe the close-packed neighbors. Not all are fooled, and that's where the calls to the NAPD come in – though the UNA is prepared for this, too. Ready to assert their jurisdiction. Rather: their bosses are prepared. These soldiers have their orders and beyond that, only follow their orders with their formidable physicality and swift training.

But they are physically assertive: most of them are tall, seemingly without gender within thick black, metal armor. Despite their size and their robotic carapace, they are human underneath. Their extensive armor doesn't slow them down, instead seeming to propel them forward in a fight, letting them predict their enemies' moves as the mask they wear provides diagnostics and likely attacks on the fly. They carry extensive weapons and supplies, all to wear down any opponents. When they fight together, their actions are perfectly complementary.

They won't start a fight, but as soldiers, they are prepared. Though they enter through the front door, they intend to leave through a window, into a large flying vehicle outside, ready to hold the targets and bring them to a temporary dropsite. They don't expect any assailants, anyone to provide trouble – but they wouldn't be very well-trained, well designed if they couldn't expect or deal with the unexpected. They won't shoot unless someone forces the matter. Their training means their stature should be enough to put down most threats.

> A WELL-LAID TRAP

Confident and well-trained, the Morningstar agents have the plan ahead of them all mapped out. They know the shifts, the patrol patterns, especially at hours like this one. Fewer, right now, but they aren't nonexistent. Several strike teams spread out, ready to move to dismantle the UNA soldiers on site as needed. These are combat-trained agents, but five versus three UNA soldiers, or two, or even one still leads to odds where they don't win. Morningstar knows these soldiers intimately, has studied and discerned their few weaknesses. But these UNA soldiers are formidable opponents.

UNA Soldiers en route to Morningstar's goal will be handled with an eerie lack of follow-up. No reports of reinforcements incoming. The swift-moving Morningstar agents are too focused on their goal, which is close now, to worry about the implications. Besides, their information told them most agents would be away on training exercises. Reinforcements being delayed is no surprise.

Each agent has their own reason for being here, for believing that Morningstar needs to be more proactive, more forceful in fighting back. They aren't career soldiers, but people who thought that they could wield a gun and change a world that hides its problems under false promises and shimmering gloss. Many are impatient, frustrated: they were given a lead on weapons in June. They weren't mislead then, at least not intentionally, but what they got instead was a bus full of disoriented people. This cache is real, verified, and vulnerable, housed here temporarily before being moved for some unknown operation.

Once the Morningstar agents are all inside, the concealed UNA soldiers left at the base line up in formation. Perfectly tailored for the fight ahead, they move onto the site. Any agents on lookout duty will see the UNA moving in, ready to lay waste to anyone in there. This is a trap, they message frantically. The very real weapons inside are meant to mock with false hope.

The UNA aren't worried about Morningstar making off with their toys. After all, this is just as planned.

> INTERLUDE

Numerous officers pass by the holding cells in the NAPD's twelfth precinct, talking softly about what can they even do, muttering to themselves. Others pop a squat nearby and call it a well-earned day off. Let those soldiers take care of whatever mess they're cleaning up. That's not their job.

It's around this time that a third, unidentified group, takes advantage of the chaos. Well-dressed despite what is a late hours right now, they head into the precinct to take care of a dangling loose end. They show credentials that link them to New Beijing's governing body and personal security, they claim the men temporarily known as Tak and Alexei. As they're brought out of their cells, they're injected with the same compulsory drug as always, leaving them veritable walking zombies at first, leaving them unable to speak or act as they're given orders that tell them to do otherwise.

The records of these men will disappear with this action, the two of them swept away into the back of an expensive four-door sedan. The whole incident erased. Two somehow anonymous men didn't kill semi-innocent bystanders during the festival. As long as the records can be trusted, that was a fantasy. A whimsy.

Morningstar cameras will see this sedan stop near the current safehouse, near the typical entrance, and order Hei and Jake out. "Stay here. Sit down. Don't do or say anything until someone comes to retrieve you. It'll be a bit – they're tied up right now."

The man in the passenger seat in the front rolls down his window, leaning forward on his arm. His face is concealed, utilizing technology that's not the same but not dissimilar to what Morningstar has at their disposal. "Try not to do anything else too stupid, will you? The cops are gonna have a bug up their asses about you idiots."

And then the sedan rolls away, lifting up and passing through the city. Morningstar cameras will spot a specific – or perhaps the more apt word is "suspicious" – lack of license plate.

> MEDI-UNITS

Each of the safehouses were designed for the worst case scenario. There is a medi-unit in all of the safehouses, a large and complex machine that can heal most ills, but given the expensive nature of their design and the risk of using them, they're not used lightly.

The medi-units are reserved for the direst of needs. come into play. Dependent on a person's time of death to bring them back to the living, they need the exact time so that someone can clock it in and prepare the restoration process correctly. There are many risks in lacking that information – someone may come back damaged, unhealed, hurt in some way. They may not live for long. Assuming that a body is brought in with a time of death, they'll be directed to a safehouse with a free unit.

The person is kept in a medically induced coma while the machine repairs their body. What dreams someone experiences will be at the end point – which can be between 48 and 60 hours – as they slowly surface, starting to return to the world of the living. As they surface, their mind will be encumbered by images of bright blue lights glowing, swirling, communicating – but language seems thoroughly out of reach.

Once the medi-unit opens, the person inside will be thirsty. Desperate for water. But there will be no other signs of the wear and tear on their bodies.

> FINAL OOC NOTES

Please refer to the OOC EVENT POST for this event for all OOC info, including suggestions for directions on how to engage with the event and the questions thread for any questions regarding this event. The outcome for this event will depend upon character plans and actions developed in both this OOC post, and any additional plots brought to the moderators. Please feel free to submit any game-changing plans to us under the questions thread – but we will be reading all comments on the post!

The Operation will continue until September 11, IC time. An aftermath wrap up post will be made on January 26 which will detail the resolution and fallout of the event.

As a reminder, there is one power level up available for this event. This will be granted for a thread of at least 5 action/log comments containing your character utilizing their power in some way. They will need to reach the 5 comments required by FEBRUARY 23 to be eligible. Submission will be handled on the wrap up post.

Our Activity Check will be posted tomorrow, January 20, at 9 PM UTC. It will run for seven days and close on January 27. We will not post a warning list.

selfimage: — ɢᴀʀʙᴇᴛᴛ — (A reality tour.)

[personal profile] selfimage 2019-01-25 02:33 pm (UTC)(link)
[ there are a few details about the UNA that he's both noticed for himself, and have been told from those who have tried to use their own manifested abilities on them. ]

From the state of this world in particular, it's not surprising that loyalty to the cause is difficult to come across.

[ there's disarray, but subtle disarray. the population is content with bones of necessities, with those at the top drain everyone else of their own resources. ]

What makes you think that?

[ curious, curious. ]
kgbs: (F O R T Y N I N E)

[personal profile] kgbs 2019-01-25 04:04 pm (UTC)(link)
I have said what I intended to say. [ he'd just tried to not be incredibly abrasive about it. later, he'll realize it was his fear making him lash out, fear that she could have been seriously and permanently hurt. ]

Your Russian is getting better. [ because it was the perfect time for a compliment like that. it was, though. that she could understand and even say a word was progress considering the difficulty of the language. ]

Next time, take a weapon. You know how to use one. Never leave without one in this place. It is too dangerous.
daemonized: (75)

[personal profile] daemonized 2019-01-25 04:16 pm (UTC)(link)
Whatever you say.

[Ardyn can sever that loop of yes you did and no I didn’t with his own dismissive words, which is likely just as frustrating.]

But that’s not true. I do care enough to watch it all unfold from a distance — though I have no loyalty to Morningstar beyond that, and I don’t know why you would, either.

[Helping people for the sake of it? Been there, done that, punished for it.]

And these soldiers... they remind you of anything, Prompto?
memoriams: (66)

[personal profile] memoriams 2019-01-25 04:51 pm (UTC)(link)
[A comment that would have Alucard huffing out in amusement — not having credentials on walking, indeed — were it not for the seriousness of the situation at hand. Still, lips quirk from under the mask, and he considers what he’s being told from the other.]

Then we’ll try that. And if we’re given issue regardless—

[He’s noticed that hand, the strain as Prompto shifts the gun between one to the other.]

—your hand. Will you still be able to manage to defend yourself? I might can help with my own power.
saviorexe: (91)

[personal profile] saviorexe 2019-01-25 06:27 pm (UTC)(link)
[The entire time, he’s not far behind Connor. He might as well be a shadow inlaid in his gait, barely-there footsteps trailing behind the other, drawn close by both necessity and the simple wish to keep him safe if needed. Even if he’s not taking point, some tendencies are hard to completely dislodge. Together, they sweep the empty zones of the flat — Markus notes the sleeping child about the same time Connor’s message flickers into his vision, illuminating his own suspicions. If she’s drugged, they’re either too late, or they’re walking straight into a trap.

Hard to tell, the apartment eerily quiet, as if the moment hangs mid-pendulum swing. The kind of atmosphere that feels like a thread waiting to snap, especially when they find themselves faced with a closed bedroom door, obscuring either danger or absolutely nothing within. It makes Markus’ jawline go taut beneath the mask, but ever unshaken, the text comes firing back quickly.]


I can, just be ready for whatever’s on the other side.

[Commentary about his thighs notwithstanding Markus is the stronger of the two androids, and the task isn’t a difficult one. Gun gripped firmly with two hands, arms bent at the elbow, it’s easy enough to kick out with enough force to jar the door next to where the lock is mounted. The impact of his heel forces the bolt to give way, and the door swings open.

He allows Connor to take the lead again — as much as he bristles against it, not knowing what awaits them — but he’s in soon after, gun ready, eyes sweeping corner-to-corner of the bedroom.

No movement. All quiet.]
verflair: (031)

[personal profile] verflair 2019-01-25 07:33 pm (UTC)(link)
[ X’rhun is used to battlefields, be they the large, sweeping landscapes of his homeland, or this tiny apartment, but being used to something does not make it any easier to bear. He simply files it away easier, tucks the horror and the pain of loss away someplace safe until he has a moment to take it out and examine it properly.

Prompto tosses a blanket over the body, and with a slight bow of his head, X’rhun offers a brief and silent prayer to whatever gods may care to watch other this place for the deceased. ]


Ready.

[ Then they’re off again. X’rhun feels lost without his rapier, and he’s no good with a firearm at all. It will have to be up to Prompto to do any distance fighting, should it come to that. He keeps the sleeping girl tucked close to his chest, ready to shield her if he must, as they make their way to the elevator. ]

Do you suppose any of the neighbors might have called the authorities?
selfimage: — ᴍᴄᴋᴇʟᴠɪᴇ — (You've got a habit of leaving.)

[personal profile] selfimage 2019-01-25 08:50 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Ardyn's going to do what he likes, regardless of Loki's particular comments. if he stays, he decides to stay. Loki can make a fairly good educated guess as to why he's here. ]

No, I rather doubt it, actually. [ there's something about the UNA soldiers and the way that they approached, well, almost everything—like they were a sort of hive mind rather than individuals. ] There's something deliberately unnerving about this place. I suppose you could say it's what's not hidden under here.
Edited 2019-01-25 20:56 (UTC)
retravel: (003)

[personal profile] retravel 2019-01-25 09:17 pm (UTC)(link)
[ with how frantic and distracted his friend appears, fitz allows himself to be pulled and handled, uncaring for the blood beyond what it means for how connor is keeping, at present (and where he came from, moments earlier). connor's compartmentalisation ability hasn't been forgotten. could cause trouble for him later, if he used it (and he undoubtedly did, with that heart of his).

as fitz lifts his arm out of the way again, connor's free to check that area over. nothing to be found on his shirt, but a firmer press over his skin will reveal the tell-tale knot of a rib gone wonky. any touches there will make him wince at best, arching away from the contact. any comment about connor being the one covered in blood gets cut off by the lad's demands. no doubt he'll make good on the demand, too, as the stronger of the two, even when fitz stands at his healthiest.

fitz even has the decency to look stricken, features slack at the gravity of his response (ever unable to understand the care others have for him). he tries to grasp connor's arms and slow his movements. ]


Connor. [ razor sharp, instinctively defiant against an order. then, softer — ] Connor, hey. Easy, I'm telling you. [ a coarse exhale. ] Just — a cracked rib. [ careful word choice, as always, when he can’t say if it’s fractured or broken without an x-ray. he does know, however, that he'd have been dead by now, if it had nicked anything internal, given how long he left it untreated, so. ]

[ he makes an effort to contain his chaotic emotions, pushing them down and securing them beneath a rattling hatch, to be dealt with later. and provided that answer placates connor enough for fitz to dodge the shitting medi-unit, he catches connor's hands, bringing them together and covering them with his own, fingers laced over the top, as if he means to keep them captive and warm after a journey out in the cold. 'cause trauma begets tremors and chills at the extremities, in need of treatment as much as lacerations and the like.

although he doesn't say, he notes the freshness of the blood now staining his own hands. a little arch of his brows, not challenging but checking. ]


I'm clear to stay right here with you, okay?

[ now let him help, you dramatic guardbot. ]
selfimage: — ɢᴀʀʙᴇᴛᴛ — (Battle for Britain (the letter).)

[personal profile] selfimage 2019-01-25 10:23 pm (UTC)(link)
[ the thing about Loki is that he's calculating, but that hadn't changed between worlds. while he's currently not Stephen's biggest fan from their last scuffle, they both have something to gain from this, as does Morningstar, and he can trust Stephen's demeanor. he knows him that much. they head out with Loki striding alongside him, keeping easy time without a hiccup. there's a direction to his own chaos this time, and it's straight toward the apartment complex.

he's wearing all black, clothing that conceals whatever weapons that he may be holding on himself for Loki-specific purposes. with his back pressed against the wall, he heeds the sign for now.
]

I'll meet you on the third floor.

[ he says with an easy drawl. with a dart and a pivot off the outside wall, he's grabbing the edge of the fire escape, swinging backward and silently pressing his boots against the inside.

he gives Stephen a little wave.
]
rehandle: (263)

[personal profile] rehandle 2019-01-25 10:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[ it shouldn't surprise him. it doesn't, if he were to think about it for any length of time, but as it is time isn't a luxury they have and Stephen's left staring up at Loki from the ground where he's been thoroughly left behind. the instinctive resulting frown is the least surprising thing of the day all around.

he knows his limits. even with special gloves, he's not about to attempt to parkour up the side of a building without a magical assist.

with a deadpan wave in return, Stephen turns to take a more traditional route: through the front door. he'll be a minute, we're not all twisty flippy godly types. ]
blyat: (★ do you know what to eat?)

[personal profile] blyat 2019-01-26 12:23 am (UTC)(link)
[Surveying Keith with a critical look as if trying to guess at the nature of his athletic ability, Cain sets both feet back on the ground.]

You climb walls a lot?

[Not one of the strangest things he's heard in his life, but it numbers up there. Their interactions have been limited so far -- not enough to get a glimpse into who Keith is or his experience in whatever world he knows. He's not going to ask after it without provocation.

Still, it's frustrating. Cain's not weak, but upper body strength alone isn't all it'll take to ascend a vertical surface.]
Fine. Show me how.
blyat: (☆ it seems like someone's watching)

[personal profile] blyat 2019-01-26 12:25 am (UTC)(link)
[After the rapidly executed rescue mission of Patil, Cain returned to the streets in an effort to apply himself where his skills were best utilized. It would be easier with a rifle in his hands, something he could shoot from a further distance where careful, accurate aim could actually do some damage. Combined with the aid of his gifted spatial ability, maybe he could take one of the soldiers down in a more permanent manner. It's not his aim, and if given the choice he'd turn and run for the sake of his own survival, but the option rested there nonetheless.

Death appeared to be a contentious issue. To Cain, he doesn't see a reason not to fight back when his life is endangered, when it's kill or be killed. Why spare one from an army of hundreds, ruthless and trained with the synchronicity of a well-oiled machine? It makes no sense. They won't achieve anything by being nice to this enemy.

Not an enemy like this one. One that kills mothers, takes fathers, leaves children drugged.

En route to another pinned location on the map overlay, alone, he's ducking between streets when the heavy footsteps slice straight through combat-tuned concentration. Cain stops - glances to see if there's somewhere he can take cover - but the approach is too quick.

... What he's not expecting is to see a flash of movement, and then to feel the world tilt out from beneath his feet as he's lifted and swing over a pair of strong shoulders. The air wheezes out of Cain's chest, gun gripped tightly in his other hand, carefully angled away from whoever has hauled him up. He can't tell through the concealment of masks.]


What - the fuck - [stuttered through the rhythm of Achilles' boots on the ground,] are you doing? Fucking put me down!
Edited 2019-01-26 00:50 (UTC)
blyat: (★ i will not vanish)

2

[personal profile] blyat 2019-01-26 12:26 am (UTC)(link)
Wow. It's you.

[Flat and dry as the desert, he passes Prompto a quick glance, mask still fixed over his own face. Where he's crouched on the ground in the corner of an apartment building's hallway, it wouldn't look like there's much to be said for the defensive position - except for the heavy burden in his arms. Cain is carrying a sedated child. The girl can't be much older than eight or nine, short dark hair, face smudged with soot, and wearing a brightly-patterned dress. Gun tucked into his belt, he hasn't yet dared to make for the exit, not after what he witnessed past the door ajar to his right.]

Don't go in that apartment. [Assuming Prompto's here to cover his back, he climbs to his feet with the girl bundled against his chest.] Let's get the fuck out of here. You know the way?
blyat: (★ he regained his perspective)

1a

[personal profile] blyat 2019-01-26 12:28 am (UTC)(link)
[Geared up in a similar ensemble counterpoint to the heat, Cain's fastened the bulletproof vest provided by Morningstar overtop a black leather jacket, gloves and mask over his face. After Patil's rescue, after separating with the team, it only makes sense to return to the field. Get as many others out of the UNA's crosshairs as possible, limited by time and mobility and - always - the lethal threat posed by the soldiers themselves.

He's noticed the trend: a large apartment, a child somewhere in it. After encountering the first one, sedated and alone with only an adult body (one of the parents, surely, the other missing) left as company, Cain endured the stark reminder of violence. The parent must have put up a fight to prevent the family from being splintered apart and paid with their own life. At least the children aren't being killed.

The UNA are already in this building when Cain creeps into a hall, crouched low to the ground, eyes on another GPS-pinned door number. He finds Loki like this - they both arrive at nearly identical times. A brief nod, then, voice coming muffled through the mask,]


We gotta make this quick. Don't think they've reached this floor yet. Ready?
blyat: (★ one night)

[personal profile] blyat 2019-01-26 12:29 am (UTC)(link)
[Riding down the crash of adrenaline, Cain's hit by a wall of fatigue where he leans close to the fold-out table, beginning to sag into a crouch on the ground. Yet within the exhaustion, his nerves are singed, jittery in the hangover. He's used to the feeling. It's not that different after the fight of a battle against the Colterons, but he'd always solved that... differently. With himself, more recently (and more to his satisfaction) with Abel. That outlet doesn't exist here. Not unless he goes looking for it.

It takes a moment to realize he's being addressed, head lifting, back straightening from a slouch. He doesn't complain about the recruitment. Just grabs the bottle and steps over to drop down on the kid's level and twist off the cap.]


Don't drink it too fast. [Cain's gloved hand holds the bottle steady as he tips it up. Then he glances at Noctis, voice lowered.] Any others come in with him?
selfimage: — ɢᴀʀʙᴇᴛᴛ — (The next day.)

[personal profile] selfimage 2019-01-26 01:05 am (UTC)(link)
[ where Loki could produce wiggle room to move, for improvisation, he's now watching their every movement, ready to account for anything that may go wrong. it's a divorce from his other self, to have the moment work for him, rather than manipulate its outcome.

for the moment he's still, turning his head half toward Jason, but keeping an hidden eye on those soldiers.
]

Can you navigate there? I can cover you.

[ which means he can distract the soldiers so Jason can get the child out of here. there's something in his voice that suggestions an edge to a blade, a sharp sound where there's usually a poetic tilt. the cadence has been wiped away, and now there's something sharp underneath. ]
evite: (i am so much older than i can take)

[personal profile] evite 2019-01-26 01:19 am (UTC)(link)
this isn't working.

[ they're calculating together, as it turns out. thinking in parallel, because they're suffering in it. so far, they're down two soldiers — the one rey targets by hand, and the one that daisy shoots in the face out of sheer surprise when he moves forward faster than expected.

it feels good, but the sight of the two that advance directly behind him quickly mitigates any celebrations she might want to kick up.

they need a new plan, and they need it now. ]


i can't make a barrier strong enough that fast
can you lift them? or us?
evite: (aos202_0228)

[personal profile] evite 2019-01-26 01:32 am (UTC)(link)
I wish we had a — I don't know, a census or something. "Need explosions, call this guy."

[ but such a list would be dangerous, daisy knows. it had been dangerous, back in the framework, and she knew any suggestion of such a universal list would be shot down by more than just fitz. he might be afraid of his own decisions, but there were others who erred high on the side of privacy above all else.

so no, a yellow pages of displaced and their abilities wasn't likely to be high priority any time soon. ]


We might as well start with the idea we have. If we run into anyone, maybe they can offer up suggestions.
evite: (nonstop earthquake dreams)

[personal profile] evite 2019-01-26 01:37 am (UTC)(link)
Sitting... what?

[ doesn't matter. maybe he just means chickens. probably more important to get to work on assembling all the pieces. the hubcap, the drive chain, and the now-assembled handle, plus various bits and bobs from her scrap metal collection spread out around her — all in all, it shouldn't take more than the ten minutes quoted to do her thing.

it just takes all her focus, so any conversation prompto might have hoped to have while she was deep in thought was going to have to wait.

a lot of blue glows, a lot of pieces, and a handful of minutes later, daisy finally has a somewhat finished product. it could use more work, but there's no real time for that. at least it's sharp. and heavy. ]


Here. Give it a swing. Not at me.
reneger: (you should be scared of me.)

[personal profile] reneger 2019-01-26 02:28 am (UTC)(link)
( he understands what loki is getting at, but jason doesn't like it. there's a thought to hand the child over to loki, tell him to get them both out of dodge but--between the two of them, loki is more sturdy. agile even with his superhuman strength, a better distraction between the two of them.

jason doesn't like it, but he nods his head. this isn't for him, it's for the child, and--putting the child's needs first: a bit of risk for loki is better than the alternative. )


Be careful. Don't get caught. I don't wanna have to patch you up. ( voice soft still and lips pressed tight before jason does turn off into the direction of the nearest hover vehicle, stays behind walls as best as he can and waits for loki's signal before he starts running across the street to get into it. )
forcevisions: (i should probably)

[personal profile] forcevisions 2019-01-26 03:14 am (UTC)(link)
If I don't go, do you know what her parents are going to face?

[ He doesn't. She doesn't. No one does. That's the point -- Rey's nobody, a lot less to lose than two parents of a child they're maybe about to orphan. And every minute she spends arguing here with Illya is a minute that the UNA can be getting away, spiriting them away to some cell somewhere or some shallow grave. ]
blyat: (★ when you look so smooth)

[personal profile] blyat 2019-01-26 03:21 am (UTC)(link)
[It's a good play. The steely clench of nerves seize in his chest again, but it keeps his mind heightened and focused on what he's going to have to do. A lot rests on this. Their lives, as well as the life of an important Morningstar operative, along with whatever information UNA intends to obtain from her. A situation he never thought he'd come to find himself volunteering to carry out. Not that there's time to wonder if this is where he's supposed to be, if this is something he can do, and why these people - Fitz, Markus, Peggy, all blindingly capable - would trust him to handle it on word alone. Maybe they're out of their minds, too, just as he feels.

Maybe he's thinking about someone else completely.

Cain takes in a deep breath at that gesture. He points two fingers down, a sweeping motion to signal direction.]
drop me from the top

[Like Fitz did before to split the soldiers' formation, this time purposeful for what he wants to try. The window of time is narrow, and he'll have to utilize his own power almost at once.

As soon as that hole opens in the ground, shearing through a picture of the world from a strange and upended angle, he clicks his gun off stun and leaps in. Cain's boots land on the single soldier's shoulders, bearing him down flat with all the weight of his body. In the same moment he triggers the flash of power, blue glow masked beneath layered clothing, and takes out a sizable chunk in the armor of a chestplate while landing across the lower half of the soldier's body.

It's only a matter of aiming his gun into the gap and pulling the trigger. (Chest, back, head. Any would do.) The sound is a sick dull thud, and he realizes the bullet hasn't exited the other side due to the density of the armor, like shooting a watermelon in a steel bowl. Blood begins to leak from the entry point, though, and Cain sees that - bright red in the reflection from the window, very much human.

The Oh, fuck is audible to everyone in the room, including the soldiers who whirl on him all at once, drawn by death in the ranks.]
forcevisions: (taken away to the dark side)

[personal profile] forcevisions 2019-01-26 03:29 am (UTC)(link)
Run.

[ Not lift, maybe. But Rey has already done this other move twice now, and she thinks she can do it again. Lifting is new and difficult, but her panic has welled up in her, and she tries to hold tight to it to remember the feeling she'd gotten when the monsters attacked, when she'd been under the influence of that sickness and gone after Kylo Ren.

She reaches out with both hands and the light in her chest blooms blue beneath her stealth gear. The UNA soldiers stagger and stop in their charge, like they're trying to move through quicksand.

It's hard. Rey's jaw is tense, muscles rippling beneath her mask as she tries to hold it. She didn't think they'd be this strong. Stronger than Kylo Ren, certainly. Maybe as strong as that creature.
]

Go. Get a head start. I'll be right behind you.
revlon: (094)

[personal profile] revlon 2019-01-26 04:23 am (UTC)(link)
[ Oh, fuck. She doesn't say it out loud when Cain does it for her but that was a reckless call on both his and Fitz's part and it happened too quickly for her to voice any protest; but she isn't running point on this mission. Too many conflicting orders are just as dangerous as reckless ones and she tightens her jaw, resigned, aware it was ultimately necessary. And now the heat is off her, off Markus and Patil. Now she has room to clear a path to the exit.

Just as planned. (Kill, not stun. Decidedly not as planned.) ]


Bloody hell.

[ That's out loud, sharp and under her breath. She rolls back her seconds of footage on her interface, mapping the room again, and then she's up and moving. ]

On the exit.

[ It's a small apartment, not much room for manoeuvring, not much room for stealth. She vaults over the sofa into the open with eyes on the door they all came through, knowing they need to make for the hallway and either the stairs or at the window at the end of it. Fitz needs a clear line of sight and he's not going to get it in here; but if they draw the soldiers away from Markus and Patil, the pair can inch around instead of being pinned. She barely makes it past the coffee table when one of the soldiers closest to her, no doubt signalled by a teammate, whips around — too close to loose a shot — and slams his forearm across her chest, throwing her back from the door and into the wall.

She grunts; the impact winds her, knocks the gun from her hand. He fires, she leans sharply to the side, the bullet pings the wall where her head once was, and she makes a grab for the soldier's gun instead. Two hands cover wrist and grip and she twists the arm back on itself to wrench the shoulder, break the joint, effectively drive the larger combatant to the ground — which she manages, used to fighting men twice her size. But just as she gets control of his weapon, his free hand draws the knife to his thigh and slashes at her leg. That doesn't miss but she staggers back and fires his own weapon back at him.

That doesn't miss either, cracking the armour. She fires again as the soldier tries to get up. Kill, not stun. We'll see. ]
Edited 2019-01-26 06:27 (UTC)
warfares: <user name="na-i-cons"> (pic#12150748)

just imagine the bridal carry icon here instead

[personal profile] warfares 2019-01-26 06:01 am (UTC)(link)
( one advantage of the late hour, at least, is that the few people milling about are so absorbed in their own things that they're unlikely to really comment on what he does next ㅡ which is to lift Rey up and into his arms and to start walking.

the apartment block isn't far but it is tucked away, making it difficult to find if you've never been there before. )

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