There was a ruckus in Washington, DC. When was there not? But this was an unusual one - this was one that brought everyone together, whether out of curiosity, duty, or just happening to be there. And there were some that were there by some unnamed instinct - a sense that they must be there. It was an odd feeling, but one that could not be shaken. It had to be met in order for it to go away, and those affected simply had no choice but to follow that instinct.
The cause of the ruckus was the number of ships positioned just northeast of Virginia Beach. One one side was a number of Dominion destroyers and aircraft carriers and other ships that clearly denoted an intent to battle. But the States had not been unprepared; intelligence had prepared them for this attack, and so a similarly large group of Allied vessels were positioned to meet them before they could get any closer to land. The two groups faced off, and it was hardly long until the Dominion fleet opened fire. Thus, a fresh battle of their war began; the first lives lost, the explosions echoing inland and sparking almost like fireworks.
Post by Dakari Johessman on May 23, 2014 18:25:17 GMT -5
Dominion
The Allies had expected this battle. This irritated Young, who was at the head of the Dominion fleet, which was made up of ships of a variety of the Caribbean islands. He had expected it, of course, but that did not mean he was happy about it. Occasionally he wondered just how they had learned of the Johessmans’ plan, but as long as they were not fully aware of the full plan, then they were safe.
Next to him, Dakari counted the opposing ships. Her ability was powerful, and she could take down a few ships at a time, but she had limits, and the Allies, clearly thinking of Dakari when they made their formation, had not made that any easier for her. Concentrating hard, she began her work, puncturing as many ships as came within her range - which were few, as though someone knew the specific nature of her ability.
Shawn was not present, but was watching the battle closely via a live link provided by Rayleigh, who was inside the main cabin. Shawn was not far away; he was actually in a safe house in Chesapeake, relatively on hand should anything go wrong or need his immediate attention.
So far, so good. They were taking hits, of course. That happened on both sides. But no side had taken so many as to retreat. That was fine; this was only the beginning. And the Johessmans had another card up their collective sleeve.
As the battle wore on, a small and fast sloop slipped past Allied lines and made its way up the Potomac River, and straight into the heart of the nation.
Post by Marcus Rodgers on May 23, 2014 18:28:12 GMT -5
Allies
Unfortunately for the Johessmans, the sloop was indeed expected as well. A contingent of Allied troops awaited them, camouflaged in the area where the sloop was expected to make land. This time, they knew better than to split up. Marcus made a series of signals to his teammates, telling them to be ready when he saw the sloop dock and its occupants file out of it, generally all dressed in black. The group seemed to be making its way to the White House, based on their path, and with a wave of his hands, Marcus jumped out of hiding first, followed closely by Mira. Sparrow did the same.
Ana Johessman was leading the Dominion group, and instantly pulled back when the Allied group jumped out, guns and abilities and other weapons at the ready. “Ambush!” she shouted. “Pull back!” But the Allies were already on them, following and surrounding them, encircling them.
“For all the blood you spilled the last time we met,” Marcus said, with one more signal to the group. A wave forward.
Post by Christian Moynahan on May 23, 2014 18:41:52 GMT -5
Neutral
As for himself, Gabriel was no stranger to the feeling of having to be in a particular place and time. The problem was that that feeling was usually accompanied by a vision. With his ability wiped about, it was only instinct that drove him. Maurelle Lacroix admitted to feeling the same instinct, and it was agreed that they should go to Washington to see what the calling was. Of course, where Gabriel went, generally, Alexandria did too, and Christian went along for all of them. Although Gabriel explained what he was feeling to Christian, Christian thought it was best not to mention that he felt the same tug toward the capital.
They gathered via teleportation at the Lincoln Memorial. The proximity made Christian return to thoughts of the two last times he had been in Washington - the first, to face charges of espionage and treason; the second, to nearly lose his life containing the blast of a nuclear bomb. It did not make him afraid or uncomfortable, but it was enough to make him frown. He took Maurelle’s hand, but did not realize he had done so until after he had.
“There doesn’t seem to be much-“ Christian began to say, but then the sound of automatic guns too close by interrupted his sentence. He took off in the direction of the noise, and Gabriel and Alain rushed after him.
“Don’t you think we should be running away?" Alain shouted, but to no avail. They were already closing in on the ground battle.
[ooc: I'm sorry for the very short posts. I'm not feeling well and I expect the rest of the posts will be a lot more descriptive.]
Post by Jack Murdock on May 23, 2014 20:07:38 GMT -5
Allies
After the fiasco in Jamaica last month, Jack mostly stayed in the DC area doing some basic training with the Maryland National Guard preparing for the eventual counter attack on the nation's capital. While he wanted to give the Dominion some payback, even someone as rock dumb as he was knew full well that having superpowers isn't enough and he needed to learn new skills as quickly as possible even though he disliked the drill instructors and the rigorous training involved.
Perhaps the hardest thing for Jack was the fact he had curtail much of his drinking until after the battle was over, depending of course on who will win or lose. Still the lemon-lime flavored vitamin water was reasonably good once you have gotten past the taste.
Whenever he had time to spare, Jack read up on a few books on geology to better understand and use his ability to mimic solid materials. Much of the text was alien to him but he picked up enough to make a difference (or so he hoped). As Washington could not loan him a diamond or two, Jack had to find common items like rocks and placed them in a black cloth dice bag given to him by a national guardsman who was a D&D player. She wasn’t that bad once you got her to stop talking about “Pathfinder” and Jack hoped to date her again if they both survived this mess.
All too soon, Jack's training was cut short by the news that the Dominion had a fleet heading toward Washington and he was assigned to a unit commanded by a Marcus Rodgers. He didn’t know the man very well or those serving with him but Jack wouldn’t be surprised if some in the unit were Specials like him.
Once the ambush was sprung, Jack reached inside the cloth bag, took out a grey pebble, and within seconds Jack's skin changed into the grey rock like substance of the pebble though the camouflaged army fatigues he wore was unchanged.
However, Jack hesitated a bit when Rodgers gave the order to fire on the enemy. While he was issued an automatic pistol, he never liked to use guns preferring means that are more physical instead like beating the crap out of someone. Even his trainers gave up on him as it became obvious Jack had the marksmanship skill of a blind sumo wrestler.
Unsure to take out his gun and do a "Machete" impression, Jack still moved ahead, the limbs of his body of stone making soft crackling noises as he did so.
Last Edit: May 24, 2014 9:06:13 GMT -5 by Jack Murdock
Post by Alexandria Constant on May 26, 2014 0:18:42 GMT -5
Freedom and Mercy rested in their scabbards upon her hips, the pair of katanas that sat upon her hips. Two of the four visible weapons that she had on her at this time, the other pair were pistols holstered further in on her hips. She had four more and plenty of ammunition for the six guns inside of her jacket, the chest holsters keeping the weapons secure, not to mention an assortment of knives hidden on her body. It might have been a little much, yet for Alexandria, she felt naked even with what she was carrying with her into this situation.
This was something that she had been worried about, an occasion where forces who had too much power clashed and ignited. Alexandria could not have known what they were going to come upon when Gabriel had felt the urge to visit D.C., but she knew to be prepared for the worst. It had been too quiet since the riots and the incident in Kingston. War had been declared in the Americas but the maneuvers were not coming, not as far as she had heard. So she had trained and prepared in darkness for whatever burst of flame was to come.
Christian was uneasy company, as was his female companion, while his male seemed more a chicken than anything. Alexandria watched with her demons on, the inky blackness taking its cover over her eyes as she activated her primary ability. Her mind was racing, identify all possible threats and the best way to either kill or incapacitate them. She was the sword and shield of their group, the weapon for Gabriel to wield if the battle became too close them or if they rushed too foolhardily into it as Christian seemed to be doing. Gabriel foolishly going after him.
Alexandria crouched and dashed after her husband, the others were expendable if need be, but Gabriel was not. Her silent command was to protect the architect at all costs, even if it meant a man like Christian was vulnerable to assault. She was the weapon and the shield but she was no army, even as perfect in her design as she was. This would be beyond her abilities if they engaged but she would not let them know that, nor did she think Gabriel or Christian foolish enough to... that said nothing for the soldiers on either side of this battle though who happened to see them...
Post by Helena Rahal on Jun 6, 2014 15:55:39 GMT -5
Welcome to a world of dissolution Welcome to a world of bloody revolution
Helena had prepared mentally for this day but it still caught her by surprise when it came. This was the day she had been waiting for, when her friends in the Johessman's were launching their strike against the nation for whom she worked for. The same nation who foolishly unleashed the power of an unstable Special that nearly killed her as well as produced devastation in the hundreds of millions in damage just to "win" a battle. They had not, of course, or Helena would not have had the opportunity to contemplate her actions of the day.
Would she back up the Johessmans once more, as her heart felt she should, after the lengths they had gone to keep her out of harm. Or should she be loyal to her nation, to her those who employed the organization she worked for. Either decision would be seen as treason to the group that she choose against, and she would be in some sort of constant peril for the choice. She had become too intertwined in the activities to simply step away though, which may have been the wisest of the choices, one stolen from her repertoire.
The weather was surprisingly well for the weight of the day and the heaviness upon her own mind, only the explosions of shells being fired shook the serenity of the day. It would be a red sun rising the next day if such old wives tales were to believed, and Helena wondered how many people would lose family and loved ones once the day was through. How many of those would she take with her own hands, how much blood would her hands be covered in by the time this battle was over?
Pulling herself up off the ground, dusting off the camo shorts that she had on, matched with a camo shirt that was barely covering a kevlar vest that was her main protection. Her face was painted green and brown, mud had been smeared through her hair. It was all she could think to do to prepare herself for the day to come, to give her a hope of keeping safe and out of sight when not engaged. Pulling out the phone from her pocket, she went to the number that her heart told her to, Ana, and sent a very simplistic text.
Post by Alice Taylor on Jun 26, 2014 3:59:13 GMT -5
Allies
It took everything and then some for Alice to escape from the fiery hell that was the Kingston battlegrouds. She was battered and broken when she was retrieved by friendly forces looking in the outskirts for Allied survivors. So few returned home... so very few. In her mind Alice could still hear the screams of the dying... and the sight of the crimson serpents she tangled with. No doubt the Johessmans knew of her involvement in Jamaica, but for what reason they likely would not know. No matter how she felt about her friends, she was honour-bound to answer the call of duty, her loyalty lying firmly with the Company, and America. The Carribean campaign was a mistake on the part of the Allies. They now know the enemy was capable of so much more, and it would be unbelievable for Allied command to underestimate the Dominion again.
Alice was prone on the roof of the White House facing the beautiful big front lawn, her snow-coloured MARPAT combat uniform giving some decent camouflage against the backdrop. Despite her faked ignorance to firearms during the hunting trip with her friends, Alice had a pretty decent shot, and she was deployed with an Allied sniper team to protect the historic building and its denizens. She didn't have to wear the skull mask this time, wearing instead a dri-fit half-face mask that covered her mouth, cheeks, and nose, along with a standard marine combat helmet, just like everyone else. The only thing in her possession that wasn't standard to the other marines was her modified M40 sniper rifle, which allowed her to fire special rounds as varied as the mini-bombs she had on her utility belt.
The blonde agent checked and adjusted her scope again, knowing Marcus Rodger's forces had intercepted the enemy on the ground. Should everything go according to plan, the Allied forces would be sufficient to repel the landing attempts, but as Kingston taught them, nothing ever goes by script in this war. Pre-Jamaica tactics may have set Alice into the front lines to stack the assault, but this time, she was used as the final line of defence should Rodger's team fail to contain the Dominion strike towards the White House. Her telekinetic walls were impenetrable by any and all ballistic ammunition, even RPGs would be harmless as they would explode just shy of damaging the building.
The thought that the last combat force that assaulted the White House were the British in the War of 1812, striking from where 55 years later became the Dominion of Canada, made Alice smile. That was the only time a foreign power ever captured and burned the nation's capital, and it was by her country of birth (indirectly speaking). Come to think of it, since she was taken away by the Company, Alice technically was still Canadian. Go figure, a Canadian apologizing for her forefathers burning the White House by defending it against another invading force.
For the home I have built in this country. For the love I bear for my child and my wife-to-be. For the friends I have that shaped who I have become. Even with my very last breath... when this day is done, the Star-Spangled Banner will continue to wave in Washington.
Post by Gabriel McBride on Jun 26, 2014 22:18:18 GMT -5
Neutral
Gabriel had been driving nearly a week straight, only stopping for necessities; gas, food, sleep and recreation. He had so much energy since his latest fight, that he found it difficult to go even hours without some form of release. The fight...even thinking about it sent him into a near panic attack. He had made the single most impressive win of his career to date, but at what cost? Gabriel had lost himself in the fight and was replaced by something darker...something dangerous...something lethal.
After the fight, while being examined in the locker room, he expected Rosephine to lay out a list of fractures, deep tissue damage and bruising...he thought the adrenaline had taken over, but he was more than experienced when it came to injuries sustained in a fight, since he had a habit of losing far more than he won. He knew a shattered rib, broken nose, fractured clavicle, and dislocated shoulder felt like when they happened, and at least one of each of these events occurred in that fight; with a few encores for the fans, for good measure. Samuel "The Rama" Wattana was a master musician, and he played all of his greatest hits that night. However, when his physician/fiance gave him a clear bill of health, to say he was in shock, more so than he was to learn that he actually won, would be an understatement. He had been through a train wreck and came out 'miraculously unharmed'...He knew there was a joke regarding the movie 'Unbreakable' practically writing itself for him...but he was not in his usual joking mood.
This was seriously unsettling, and he didn't have even a minute to himself to consider the possibilities...Hallister came in shortly after Rosephine's examination, to give them the news that Wattana had been taken to the hospital due to the fact that he was unresponsive and barely capable of breathing on his own. Later Gabriel learned that the elbow that dropped his opponent, left Wattana temporarily paralyzed from the neck down, with a fractured skull and potentially permanent brain damage. He was 26 years old...career ended. Gabriel knew that this was something that happened, their profession was dangerous and death was an ever evolving possibility. This just didn't feel right to him. Something happened in that ring...something he just couldn't explain, but what he did know for certain. That 'something' made him more responsible than he would have been otherwise. More guilty...at least that's how he felt.
It only took a few days, but eventually he broke down and left. He needed time to himself, to reflect and to figure out his next move, if there was any. He left a note for his Fiance explaining that he would be gone a few days...he just needed time to collect his thoughts. Already he was gone nearly a week. He left Nevada on his way to Washington, DC. But, Why? What the hell did he think he would find in DC? There were no answers to these halfhearted questions...he just knew that he had to be here...for some reason, this was where he would make sense of all this senselessness and bring order to the chaos his life was quickly dissolving into.
It was a little before 1AM when Gabriel's 1985 metallic blue Camaro iroc Z/28 pulled into Virgina Beach, finally parking just short of the boardwalk, Taking a break before continuing on to Washington. He noted that the highways were abnormally vacant, though he was sure it had something to do with the time...after all, he didn't know much about the east coast. He made his way down to the nearest pier, a bottle of Bushmills 12 yr old Distillery Reserve in hand. He had a case imported from the Northern Ireland distillery 3-4 times a year (depending on how often he was losing fights and the number of sorrows that needed numbing). On this trip he had taken a nearly a full case with him...and only 2, soon to be 1, bottle remained. How would he ever manage to survive the drive back?...was he even going back?
Once under the pier, he leaned against a support beam and looked out over the raging waters in the distance. He broke the seal on the bottle and pushed the side of the lid against the palm of his hand, quickly running it down the length of his palm and sending the cap flying into the sand several feet away, a neat trick he learned after seeing it in a movie, though he had no recollection which one or how long ago. Everything from his past seemed like nothing but a blur to him now...as if it was all someone else's life...or a movie he didn't care enough about to remember.
As he lifted the bottle to his lips, Gabriel hesitated his eyes still staring out over the restless waters, glazed from a mixture of emotion, lack of sleep, and the obvious overly generous imbibing of his single malt, his most trusted confidant. He finally brought the bottle to bare and took a deep swill as he leaned his head back to rest against the wooden support of the pier. His eyes closed, feeling the smooth warmth move through his body, burning from chest to stomach...but that was not all he could feel at that moment... it was as if he could feel the vibrations of the water beating against the other supports several yards away from him. However, the booming became more forceful, sounding more like a lashed boat or something of significant weight being racked against the pier...but that was not too likely...as boats were not usually lashed to a pier support beam. At least not to his limited knowledge of boat lashing.
He opened his eyes and could see faint flashes followed by thunderous crackling in the distance. For a moment he thought that there must be some sort of firework display occurring...Fireworks this late at night? On a Thursday/Friday morning?...in February?
His chin slowly lowered closer to his chest and his eyes opened sluggishly, his hazed line of sight running the length of the pier above, until they locked on the waters beyond that made up the distant, shadowy, horizon. Now he was made keenly aware of the overwhelming evidence that was piling up against this being a firework display...it was a display of course...but not one of celebration...his analysis complete, Gabriel could deduce one thing for certain...something was happening off the coast of Virginia Beach...something destructive...something war like...
He dropped the half full bottle at his feet in the sand and began making his way back to his car, as if something else was making these decisions for him...He barely stopped to think, allowing his instincts to take over. At first it was difficult to take his mind off the spectacle off in the distance, but he knew only one thing for certain in those few moments of blinding uncertainty. He had to get to DC and fast. He didn't know why, and he didn't question himself...that would be crazy wouldn't it?
Fortunately- or unfortunately, depending on perspective - his Camaro was built for high performance racing, a hobby of his since he became addicted to the Fast and Furious films. He never exactly raced it on the streets, but he was known to spend hours on local tracks pushing his American muscle cars to their limits. He made it to US-1 N, in roughly a minute and a half, where it was a straight 205 miles to DC. Pushing the accelerator to the floor he shifted his way through the few cars that were still on the highway at this time of night. It was mostly sixteen wheelers and a few early morning commuters...his lucky streak was going strong...he just hoped that the highway patrol was otherwise preoccupied, or else they would find themselves being led directly to the capital...Gabriel wasn't stopping for anyone, or anything, if he could help it.
The Camaro iRoc 3rd gen Z28 coupe had a "theoretical" cap at 132 mph, with his modifications and customizations he knew he could break that cap and get it up to 150 mph under his full control on a straight track... however safety was an issue in this particular instance... he knew he could make it the 205+ miles to DC in less than 2 hours, perhaps even an hour and a half...he just hoped it was enough time to do...whatever it is, his instincts were calling on him to do.
Gabriel McBride "I do not fear death. I did not live for billions upon billions of years before I was born and did not suffer the slightest inconvenience from it."
Post by Lucius Kilvayne on Jun 29, 2014 20:58:59 GMT -5
A lot of people won't get no supper tonight A lot of people won't get no justice tonight The battle is gettin hotter In this iration, Armagideon time
Lucius surveyed the scene. The war had started long before this battle, even before the last one. The war for him had started the moment Registration was announced. But his involvement had long remained a matter of secrecy. But now, that time had ended. He was an enemy of the State, a status he had hoped to avoid as long as possible. The government had forced his hand, though. Attacking his fiance's family was crossing a line that could not be uncrossed. A point of no return. His Rubicon moment, he mused.
He was at Dakari's side, once more. She was well placed, and he could have been useful elsewhere perhaps. But he was unwilling to engage in combat too far from her. It made him uneasy, as independent as the two were, that he should feel that way. It was strange to him, even after all this time. Brogan had expressed similar sentiments regarding Sayeva, but he still managed to overcome it. Perhaps, it was a question of mortality. Brogan's mind could be eased by the thought that they would survive whatever they faced. Lucius could not claim that certainty...not with Gabe's power failing as it was.
Adrian and Alexander strode through the waves, smashing and sinking US ships, while Kari used her abilities to control the battlefield and take out ships in her signature manner. Lucius took to the air, in the insulated waterproofed armor he designed for situations that might place him in danger of neutralization via exposure to moisture. Such as a battle on the high seas. Electrodes at his fingertips allowed his electrical attacks to reach the intended targets. Conventional warfare be damned. They were Gods. They would continue to fight like Gods.
Brogan had been placed in the ground battle, where he was most useful. He was literally cutting a swath of destruction through the ranks of the enemy. Blood spraying in his face, spilling on the ground. Terror in their eyes, a primal rage in his. At his side was Lars Erikson. The man had been imprisoned for some time in the District of Columbia, but they had finally located him. He was freed and took this battle as an opportunity for vengeance on those who held him captive. Nevermind that he deserved it or whatever. This was a war. The victor would write the history of it later, and who was a hero or a villain would be decided in the aftermath. For now, it was kill or be killed. Fight to survive. Fight to conquer. This Brogan understood to be the deepest truth of the world.
Post by Trevor Taylor on Jun 29, 2014 21:58:24 GMT -5
You're broken, so am I, I'm better off alone No one to turn to and nothing to call my own Outspoken, so am I. Explosive words that your World wouldn't understand. Turn away again!
Trevor Taylor was battle hardened. Too many years spent in strife. He had lived a peaceful life for a time. But that had all fallen apart in mere moments. Every time he had seen the hope of peace. The hope of a new life. It was taken from him by the cruelties of the world. He would have vengeance if nothing else. Justice was something to strive for, but vengeance was something taken by force of will. And Trevor had plenty of that to spare.
At his side were the Company agents Marcus Grant, Sparrow and Watchers investigator Ronan MacGuinness. He was also in the company of his Elite comrades Marcus and Mira Rodgers. All had been present in Kingston. They had all gotten separated, a bad turn of fate. Not this time. Trevor would not see the same mistakes play out. This was their home turf, after all.
Marcus Grant smiled. They had expected to get by unseen. It was a good ploy, but the Allies were prepared for it. Marcus carried an AR-15 and his usual Browning Hi-Power. The rifle was at the ready. Trevor was carrying a more unusual weapon, an FN P-90 personal defense weapon. Ronan had elected to utilize no weaponry, but had opted for some kevlar armor. His ability made a bullet somewhat redundant.
“For all the blood you spilled the last time we met,”
The group took Ana Johessman's force by surprise, and Rodgers seemed almost too happy about getting the chance to put the shoe on the other foot. Well, Grant could hardly disagree with the sentiment. Nor could Trevor or Ronan, who had witnessed the carnage and remembered it all too vividly.
Post by Maurelle Lacroix on Jun 30, 2014 0:16:20 GMT -5
D.C. called to her through both instinct and intellect, as well as her ear to the ground. Following the attack on Kingston, Maurelle knew that there would be retaliation from The Dominion and it would be a heavy handed bout of retaliation. While it would only be a first strike, so to speak, Maurelle knew that the first movement following an attack usually were heavy strikes meant to cripple the enemy. There were then two obvious answers to where the Dominion would strike, New York City or Washington D.C., with either the capital or financial capital of the country the best way to cripple the nation.
Yet New York City would be a foolhardy move, the Kilvaynes made the city their primary residence and place of business. It did not seem to her that the Johessmans would risk having the Kilvaynes assets harmed even through collateral damage. D.C. then had to be where they would make their strike and knowing how the clan operated, she expected them to be leading their troops as they had in the attack on their home island. The show would be quite something else, even if Maurelle thought it was a very empty venture.
The world would keep on turning after this battle and the problems of tomorrow would continue to plague them. Maybe a new government would solve some of those problems, maybe it would not, Maurelle did not know with her power still on the fritz. What Maurelle did know was that if Gabriel or Christian merely asked it, her forces could be here in to put a stop to this nonsense in just a simple phone call. However, given how this had escalated into a full scale war, that probably would just turn into a momentary ceasefire and not a true peace.
"Needless bloodshed over the hill for $1000?" She muttered to herself as the group decided to proceed forward.
Post by Jack Murdock on Jun 30, 2014 0:49:54 GMT -5
Jack hissed loudly and instinctively covered his eyes with his arms as bullets from the Dominion soldiers impacted against his stone like body as they tried to stop him from getting close to Ana Johessman.
The key word was 'tried'. It mattered little as the slugs did nearly nothing except tearing his uniform apart piece by tiny piece.
Annoyed, Jack swung his fists wildly here and there and taking grim satisfaction in causing injury to the Johessman thugs. One solider fell down to the ground screaming from a broken rib cage and a couple of the others run off with shattered noses and lower jaw damage.
A part of Jack still felt sorry for them. They were just doing their duty though it was a duty most likely brought about by fear of the Johessmans and the Kilvaynes than a pride for their country. Jack winced as he heard the firing from the Allies and tried not to think about the bodies piled up all around him.
"Your troops are getting killed, Ana. Hope its all worth it cuz in the end to the rest of your sick and twisted family you are nothing more but a martyr. An excuse. Something they'll remark at parties then forget all about within minutes as they continue to indulge in their power games." Jack said in a tired tone as he proceeded to grapple Ana.
"Sure, you won't just surrender?"
Last Edit: Jun 30, 2014 0:58:20 GMT -5 by Jack Murdock
The Johessmans and their forces hardly had time to react. The Allies surrounded them on all sides, firing with precision. The Specials among them often chose to use their abilities as well. Many of the Dominion soldiers fell, and Ana Johessman, armed with one handgun in her hand and another at her waist, looked around wildly, trying to find the center of the shooting while moving back and to the side to avoid getting injured herself. She felt her phone vibrate, and took it out to reply. Come from th-
And then, out of nowhere, a body crashed into her. Ana grunted as she fell to the ground; her shooting arm had been locked to her right, making shooting her attacker improbable, but she did have more natural talents to use. They were easily at disposal, whether the man who had struck her or stood back. Unfortunately, he deigned to touch her, and that was a mistake.
Ana used her secondary ability to afflict the man with a nasty case of shingles. For good measure, she made sure to center that illness on his groin, that very special part of a man’s body that men like to wave around. The effect would only last the night; Ana decided that was long enough for him to learn his lesson.
Meanwhile, her brother, Raymond, wrapped his arms around the man to pull him off, then set a punch flying at the man’s face; but laughed when he saw the red splotches covering the dude’s face.
On the ship, Dakari was watching the land battle as closely as she could through a telescope, and heard Andrea yell over the comms, “Ana’s down! Ana’s down!”
This was before Raymond jumped in, but Dakari didn’t care at all. “Raasclaat!” she hissed. “Oh fuck no!” And, taking Lucius’ hand, assuming he wanted to come along as well, she had a teleporter whom they had found in their army drop them in the middle of the land fight.
Instantly, Dakari redirected all enemy bullets to their shooters, creating a shield for anyone who needed it. She saw Brogan and Lars cutting down men left and right, and that made her smile. Meanwhile, she felt certain Alexander and Adrian would continue to engage the ships.
Dakari took a volley of bullets and broke them down, leaving only their metal. This she formed into a small dagger, which she slashed at Ana’s attacker. Ana had already afflicted him, and Raymond had thrown a punch, but the Johessmans were a solid group, and none of them would let harm against another go unpunished. The other siblings might have jumped in too if they weren’t pressed (and if Young had not still been on the ship).
On the Allied side, Mira held a brace of pistols, firing them with astonishing accuracy. Double pistols normally meant wider range and less likelihood to make a target, but Mira’s ability helped with that. Marcus was both firing a pistol and using his own ability, felling foes with heart attacks. Ducking behind trees, and moving as fast as he was, though, he could not get a lock on any of the Johessmans.
Sparrow was not only fighting for the Allies. She was fighting for Reggie. She was certain that the Dominion had kidnapped the young woman, and was going to use her as a bargaining chip any minute now. That had to be their last plan, didn’t it? Hold the President’ daughter in case things went awry, then use her as a shield? That was cowardly, but Sparrow would not put it past them. Besides, the simple truth of it was, while the Johessmans and their friends were definitely winning at sea, they were losing more and more ground against the Allies on land.
The Allies pushed the Dominion away from the city; the Dominion fought back at an angle, bringing the fight perpendicular to the Capitol. Gabriel could see clearly now which side was doing well and which was not; he could see bodies falling left and right; he knew that this was a battle he did not wish to enter. Christian, however, seemed to be of a different opinion. Sure that the man was planning to help the Dominion, Gabriel picked up speed, running as quickly as he could toward Christian. He felt Alexandria’s presence behind him, and considered the choice between running headfirst into the battle while following Christian, bringing Alex into the fray with them; or stopping here and keeping Alex safe. His children flashed through his mind; he would not leave them without a father or mother. Christian and Lucius were his two best friends, and he knew Lucius had Dakari by his side; Christian, however, would be going in alone, with only Alain at his aid.
Gabriel came to a stop, and turned to hold Alex in his arms, while looking back at the battle. “I’m sorry, Christian,” he said softly.
Alain was still running, but he thought more wisely and teleported in front of his boss, appearing with his arms out at shoulder breadth in order to stop Christian gently. Christian stumbled back a bit. “This is madness, boss,” Alain told him. “What is your plan? Do you have one?”
“Do I need one?” asked Christian.
As if in answer, the sound of a group approaching reached both men's ears. Alain was about to say something, but stopped when he recognized the leader of the group. Christian had already recognized her. “Why are you here?” he asked softly, with an odd feeling that his priorities had now changed; he had to protect this woman at all costs. She hardly needed protecting, but that bore little matter in Christian’s consideration.
For his part, Alain looked up at the street, nearing them. He thought he heard the unmistakeable (to him) sound of a Camaro growing nearer.
Christian walked to meet Maurelle. “This is dangerous,” he said, despite obviously having seen her contingent. “You should not have come.” Now, seeing her, he was ready to leave the Johessmans to their cause and take her back home, wrapping her in his arms. But he knew She would have something to say about that. Probably that he was a short-sighted fool.
“Say it,” he said plainly.
Meanwhile, the battle was raging not far from either pair, shots and electricity flying everywhere, shooting and ducking for cover and shooting again. The sides were hidden behind tree lines, with a no man’s land running down the middle of it. A blast of wind suddenly shook the trees, and a small group of people, led by a woman, suddenly appeared at the river side of the no man’s land.
Drawn to D.C. by some stroke of will, John Daugherty had been wandering not far from the river when the battle suddenly erupted. He took cover behind a clump of trees, and no one seemed to notice him. Good.
However, he was the first to notice the woman and her entourage, and, half-curious as to what they were doing, followed them. That was when he recognized one of the members of her group - his own wife. Nadine was standing next to the woman, as though she were the woman’s personal bodyguard.
The woman had a slender, graceful form; short, raven-colored hair covered part of her face, which she raised a delicate hand to brush away. She was taller than some of her followers, due in part to skinny-heeled boots that went up to her knees, deep black boots. In fact, everything she wore was black. Even her lips and eyes were made up in black.
“All right, all right, kids. You’ve had your fun.” As she approached, everything on the battlefield stopped; every bullet, every punch, every swing of a sword. All movement stopped, in fact. Whatever position a person had been in at that moment, she or he remained stuck there indefinitely. The woman paused and surveyed the battlefield around her. Then she smiled - a beautiful smile, but dark and foreboding.
Post by Adele D'Alteau on Jul 7, 2014 14:00:24 GMT -5
Oh wicked thoughts From where did you come? Darks things breathe their heated sighs
I kiss the cheek And eat the mouth And taste the tongue that never lies
††† ۵ ۵ ۵
Washington, D.C.
In the weeks she'd spent recuperating from her more or less one-on-one battle with a blonde telepath, ideas of revenge took root in her mind. Alice had put her life in danger by causing severe enough injuries to the point where she nearly bled out. If not for her ability's unique survival mechanism, her life would have ended on the streets in the Jamaican capital, and Alice would have returned state-side to be greeted by her loving family. Unfortunately, Alice had severely miscalculated the petite doctor's will to live and the rage which slowly stoked the fire in her soul until the pent up energy exploded in a volley of nerve-paralysing and pain-inducing attacks which eventually rendered both her and Alice unconscious.
Fighting on the front lines of a battle wasn't something that she was prone to do. And yet here she was, again, fighting alongside the Dominion soldiers, though her role in this particular war was more or less being a field medic to those in need. She threw out attacks as she deemed necessary, such as when an Allied soldier charged at her with a military-grade rifle levelled at her head while she ministered to a patient whose hand was hanging on by a thin thread of ligaments. Before the woman could make the neural motor connection that would result in the squeezing of the gun's trigger and its subsequent discharge, she fell dead in her tracks.
The characteristic dark hue of her eyes gave her a limited amount of vision, but it was sufficient to reattache the nerves, blood vessels, and connective tissue to buy them a few hours before the hand would need to be amputated. She couldn't perform such intricate surgery in the field, and she'd never attempted stimulating the cells in tissues to force them to regenerate the most vital organ of all—skin--and she wasn't about to turn one of her comrades into a guinea pig.
“Ryan, be a dear and unwrap some gauze and two large hydrocolloid bandages from my bag.” Her medical bag consisted of a number of antiseptics, analgesics, sterilisation tools, stitches, bandages, and other implements of her trade. She turned her attention back to the patient currently in her care. “You're far too young to be engaging in this sort of fight, Private Carlisle.”
“Didn't manage to 'port out in time.” He was on the lowest rung of the military hierarchy as far as rank. Just a standard, run of the mill foot soldier for the Dominion's nascent Marine force. He knew what he'd been getting himself into when he'd signed on to their payroll a year ago when he was nineteen. Now here he was at twenty, and could be very well facing the rest of his life without his hand. Oddly enough, he couldn't feel any pain. Whether that was due to the fact that his body was in shock or due in part to the doctor's unique ability—probably a combination of both—he really didn't know. Before his hand had nearly been torn off by taking a bullet to the wrist, he'd managed to teleport out two of his comrades to a nearby medical ship where their much more severe injuries could be tended to more immediately. Field medicine could only do so much.
“They should be able to save your hand. All the major blood vessel and nerve connections have been repaired.” She packed the wound with sterile gauze. Ryan was taking a little too long in locating the bandages, and so she changed her directions. “The self-adhesive cloth bandage will work just as well. I just need something to secure the gauze in place.” She held out her hand and gestured toward the roll of beige-coloured fabric tape. “For future reference, the hydrocolloid bandages are in the blue Granuflex box.” She took the tape from him and rapidly unrolled a long length of it before wrapping it around Carlisle's wrist and hand, fastening the gauze in place. “Do you have enough energy to get to the infirmary?” If necessary, she could temporarily energise his metabolism and give him enough energy to make the short teleportation journey to the medical ship.
Since his bloodflow had been adequately restored and his brain wasn't busy fixating on being in excruciating pain from nearly having one of his appendages forcibly amputated, he reckoned he had more than enough energy to make one final journey. “Only one way to find out. I'll radio you when I make it.”
Adele released his hand and stood up. In the time it took for her to turn back to her portable medical bag and zip it up, the soldier was gone, and his voice sounded off in her ear. “Made it.”
Private Carlisle may have made it to safety, but she and Ryan were still in the middle of a warzone. She was vaguely familiar with the layout of the nation's capitol, having visited it from time to time during her formative years. She'd also attended a handful of medical conventions at some of the local hotels. They were a few blocks east of the White House. From where they stood, she could see a faint sliver of green she understood to be the house's magnificent front lawn. It was quickly blotted out by a flurry of bodies running past, though from this distance, she was unable to determine for which side they were fighting.
Gathering her wits about her, she shouldered the large medical bag and walked down the street, once again reactivating her ability and ripping the blood from the bodies of the dead and dying soldiers around her to create a thick shield in front of them which would have been able to withstand several rounds of bullets. Creating two small 'windows' in the shield out of the blood's clear plasma, she was better able to make out the shapes of the moving, living bodies in front of them at the end of the next block. Something seemed . . . off.
A woman several years her senior entered from the cross street on the right, a small flock of followers trailing in her wake. “All right, all right, kids. You’ve had your fun.” Almost as suddenly as the bullets had started flying, all sounds of gunfire and fighting ceased. Although she'd been supplied with a small arsenal of knives and had an M4 rifle crossed over her back, guns could jam and throwing knives could always miss their mark. Instead, she relied upon her ability to create a weapon which she knew she could control. Streams of blood flowed upwards from the pavement, weaving themselves into a thick but flexible braided whip. All of her senses were on high alert, and so as not to give into her instinct to flee, she concentrated on quelling the adrenaline flooding into her veins and controlled her breathing.
Against her better judgement, Adele raised her voice from where she stood nearly two blocks away, behind her protective shield. “Our fun hasn't even started.” She'd worked for years at keeping her boiling hatred of the Company and those associated with them to a simmer. But keeping those feelings dead and buried had only caused them to fester. Her previous fight with Alice had been the lance which had cut the boil, which had once again exposed her feelings in all their raw, disgusting beauty. “Ce n'est pas votre droit. Maintenant foutez le camp de mon chemin.”
††† ۵ ۵ ۵
† Word count: 1387 ۵ Mood: Yey! Done in time for work! † Outfit: Whatever the Dominion equivalent of an Army Combat Uniform is, M4 carbine, MOLLE vest, IOTV, Advanced Combat Helmet, Unit One Pack ۵ Lyrics / Quote: Dark Thing, Johnny Hollow. Can't find a link to this particular version. The only thing youtube has is the shitty Obsession remix. † Illustrations: None. ۵ Comment / Informational links: Off to work now. Joy. Fucking hooray.
Last Edit: Jul 7, 2014 14:01:37 GMT -5 by Adele D'Alteau
Post by Ryan D'Alteau on Jul 7, 2014 21:25:26 GMT -5
...I think I owe you an apology. Somehow, you bring the violence out in me. I'm just a shell of what I used to be. Passion is sometimes a fucked-up thing for me. ______________________________Korn - "Prey For Me"
Ryan may not have been someone who closely followed the news - in fact, he was far more prone to doing his best to ignore it - but not even he could escape the various mutterings about the Jamaican Dominion. With the government's propensity for shrouding the happenings in the United States from the general populace, the most many people really got out of the subject were rumours, hearsay and conjecture about what might have been done by the rebellious islanders. Every so often, new rumours arose on the internet, cropping up on social media and prompting the people to think about something different; something which may or may not have had the potential to concern them.
A month ago had been no exception. Word had been floating around of a "military presence" in the Caribbean, spread around the internet by people who had apparently managed to evacuate and make it to the mainland US. Initially, Ryan hadn't bought a word of it, believing it to be some sort of fearmongering tactic. After all, the Caribbean was over a thousand miles away, far beyond the range of all but the most sophisticated missile technology. If they were telling the truth, then it would still have been days or weeks before the alleged presence would reach his doorstep. And that was if it was a malicious one. What had prompted Ryan's mind to slowly change on the matter, however, was Adele's passport.
Having been set at ease with a story involving a medical conference out of town, it was upon his fiancée's return that Ryan had managed to spot something out of the ordinary. Purely by chance - presumably before she'd had the chance to sequester it away in its usual spot - he'd managed to sneak a look at Adele's passport while she'd been out of the room. Unless the conference had been really out of town, he'd deduced that she would have had no real reason to carry it with her. Identification could be taken care of with her hospital ID or her driver's license and, as he began to flip through the document's rear pages, there was nothing out of the ordinary. The destinations stamped there were places to which he'd either accompanied her or already knew she'd been. Gatwick Airport for when they'd visited Darron, Nice for when they'd dropped in on the Maignys in Saint-Tropez, another airport he assumed was in Italy...
Norman Manley International?
Where the fuck was that? As was ever the case in this day and age, Google held the answer to his mental query and, once he found his laptop, it took Ryan a few seconds to key in the name and begin a search. During his time with Adele, airports were something he'd begun to see a lot of. Their sporadic trips, whether on their own volition or at the behest of either GEIST or the Company, had taken him to quite a number of them but, over that half-decade, Norman Manley was a name which escaped him. Until, that was, he hit the enter button on the computer and watched the browser load up the response; a response he immediately regretted wanting to be given.
Norman Manley International Airport was located in Jamaica, a twenty-minute drive from its capital city, Kingston. Unless Adele was somehow being monumentally stupid, given the rumours, she had absolutely no reason to go there. It was only weeks later, when she'd suddenly seen fit to drag him to the nation's capital, that he'd confronted her about the impromptu excurstion she'd taken in January. Between her explanation and what he'd quietly discerned after their arrival, the truth was somewhat haunting.
There had been a military presence in the Caribbean. The Jamaican Dominion had steadily taken over just about every member landmass of the island group and absorbed their able, experienced and trained into a singular standing armed force; a naval-based infantry batallion and the warships to go with it. Not only had the rumours been right for once, the Dominion's leader had been someone he'd already met. Dakari Johessman. It seemed that the casino and hotel proprietor was a hell of a lot more besides. Of course, this only made what happened next more difficult to bear. One hundred and fifty miles to the south, near Virginia Beach, the Dominion Navy had run into the American forces which had been waiting for them.
With the Delmarva Peninsula in the way of approaching the capital directly, Virginia Beach had seemingly been the next best option. Nevertheless, the chaos had quickly spread north and, before long, the fighting reached him. Having not had a face-to-face meeting with Dakari since the Hallowe'en party, Ryan was reluctant to consider himself allied with her Dominion but, with Adele clearly having made such a choice herself, he would simply follow his fiancée as he'd always done. However, without the capability to quickly defend himself with his ability - or as quickly as he would have liked - Ryan had taken to scrounging the weapons and ammunition from the dead Allied soldiers.
It may not have been the P226 he'd used in the Company, but it hadn't taken him too long to figure out how to operate the army's standard-issue M4 and, with it, he'd become Adele's ever-present guardian. Between her occasional murder of an Allied soldier with her bloodborne ability, Ryan's fiancée had taken it upon herself to be the Dominion's resident combat medic. Although she hadn't gone around helping everyone she met, there had been times where she'd stopped. Private Carlisle was the latest in a short line of such people to whom she'd rendered assistance. Ryan didn't really care that the young soldier - who was four years his junior - had nearly had his hand blown off at the wrist by a stray bullet. With the three of them at a standstill, they were sitting ducks.
"Ryan, be a dear and unwrap some gauze and two large hydrocolloid bandages from my bag?"
The gauze wasn't hard to find. But the hydro-whatever bandages were a different story. To him, bandages were bandages and, to his annoyance, Adele had packed quite a lot of things which, when rolled up, looked like bandages. There were more important things for him to do than working out which bandage was which, such as ensuring that he and his fiancée weren't shot in the back of the head. Eventually, Adele seemed to give up waiting for what she needed and settled for pointing towards something which would suffice. "The self-adhesive cloth bandage will work just as well. I just need something to secure the gauze in place. For future reference, the hydrocolloid bandages are in the blue Granuflex box."
Picking up the beige roll, he tossed it into Adele's hand and let her get on with her work. "Sounds like somethin' I should've known... I dunno, b'fore we showed up in the middle of an invasion," he sighed. With his wrist gauzed up and his general condition stabilised, Private Carlisle was finally able to go on his way, winking out of sight as he teleported himself directly to the nearest infirmary. With him gone, the two of them set off once more. Making their way down the street, Adele had taken to creating barriers out of the spare blood which was literally lying around the place in the form of the dead and dying. The makeshift riot shields - he hoped - could stop bullets.
Through the clear gaps in the barrier, Ryan could just make out the distant procession as they strolled out into the middle of the road nearly two blocks away. "All right, all right, kids. You've had your fun." The voice echoed between the buildings, carrying it towards them as, for some reason, the fighting ahead of them drew to an abrupt halt. As far as he could tell, nobody had actually died ahead of him. They were just... not moving. The situation wasn't exactly helped when Adele yelled back, ordering the strange woman to get the hell out of her way.
"I could try hijacking one of her friends..?", he suggested quietly. Were Adele to extend the barrier in a cylindrical fashion around them, he could project himself out from behind it and search for someone closer to this newcomer who was susceptible to his otherworldly charm. "That'd get 'er out of th'way."
Last Edit: Jul 7, 2014 21:26:03 GMT -5 by Ryan D'Alteau
Post by Maurelle Lacroix on Jul 7, 2014 22:16:06 GMT -5
Maurelle rolled her eyes when Christian finally realized that she was here, it seemed her presence had been more cloaked than she had anticipated. Perhaps that was for the best, if Christian had not noticed her approach until the moment that she was upon him, then perhaps those forces battling it out would not have as well. It also spoke highly of her ability to still sneak into places that she should not have been without being detected, stealth was a key component to a successful assassination, and her skills were apparently not diminishing.
"Oh you know, I just decided to take a nice walk, it seemed like too nice a day not to. My personal bodyguards decided to follow along as well." Although she was grinning like a Cheshire cat, she was sure her humor would be lost on Christian, he was being over protective, as was his companion with his own wife. "Oh Gabriel, I never thought you would holster your weapon in a situation like this, what a very interesting development indeed." She flashed a small smile towards the Constants before turning back towards Christian.
She should not have come? What sort of malarkey was that, why shouldn't she be here when he was here, risking his neck again? Of all people in the world, he and Gabriel would know that she thrived in dangerous situations... well maybe the Johessmans would know as well, though her exertion of skill there had been years passed. Here he was foolishly putting his own health on the line and he had the gall to tell her that she should not be here because it was dangerous, what a freaking hypocrite. "I do not need protection, you know that." Her eyes were cool and looking past him, to the scenes of battle that were edging closer.
"Tell you what, that you are a short sighted fool? Nah, you already know you are, yet you continue to make the same mistakes. I would think someone as intelligent as you would realize that your own life is bigger than yourself and if any of us should not be out here today, it is you." The nation did not need its newest hero to be turned into a martyr or collateral damage in this ridiculous conflict. Noticing the gunfire and shelling getting ever so closer, Maurelle motioned behind her.
"May I suggest that we move out of the firing range if it is oh so dangerous?"
Alexandria felt a sense of relief that Gabriel pulled her close and did not push her to proceed. This was not a battle that she was going to win, regardless of her ability to make whichever side they went against to have a Pyrrhic victory. More relieved when Maurelle showed up with her contingent and started to berate Christian for the foolish move in engaging closer towards the conflict at hand. Without a word, Alexandria gave a simple gesture with her head towards behind Maurelle, indicating to Gabriel that she agreed with the woman's suggestion.
Helena was surprised when she did not get any instructions back from her text to Anastasia, which left her with the decision on how best to deal with the situation. There was plenty that she could do to tilt the balance both in the land and the naval engagements. Her abilities left her with so many options, a plethora of them to choose from, an overabundance really. It was up to her to decide how best to utilize them though and tip the scales decisively.
Looking into the harbor, she knew that the ships were going to be the most trouble for the Dominion forces. While the body of water was too large for her to freeze, at least in any reasonable amount of time, there was something that she hoped she could do. It was going to take a lot of effort, considering the amount of water that she was going to have to exert control over, but if it worked, it would most definitely turn the tide in favor of the Dominion and make quick work of the assembled fleet.
Navigating towards the shoreline, Helena sat herself in the sand as the waves washed in an out. She reached out with her mind, following the feel of the water as it swam underneath her feet, legs, and backside and then retreated back out. As it came back in, she pulled on it, then swayed it back out with stronger force as it receded. Again, she did it it, a small tidal pull forming, getting larger as she exerted her power over the incoming waves and receding water, like a pendulum. Her exertion would not have gone unnoticed, but she split just a splinter of her mind towards quickly building up a sand shield around her, flash heating it to form a layer of thick glass. It would have to do...
Until the moment came where her powers finally had collected enough of the water under her control and enough force. As the huge wave came, crashing all around her, it receded as a tidal wave, towering in height, heading with the force of a small tsunami towards the assembled American fleet...
Post by Jack Murdock on Jul 10, 2014 18:10:09 GMT -5
Jack yelled in pain as he reeled to and fro from the Dominion boy toy's powerful punch that he felt even in his stone form. His head and ears ringing, he nearly lost consciousness but quickly regained his second wind. Which was fortunate as that meant he was still able to focus and maintain his altered form.
Strange, he had a odd itchy sensation on his thigh but ignored it. His country as well as his very life was at stake and therefore more important than some mild discomfort.
"My turn. And this time, try and hit more like a man if that is even possible for you." Jack snarled as he swung his rock hard fists at his attacker. Or was it attackers as the Dominion troops seemed very ticked off at Jack right about now.
Good because the feeling is mutual.
Last Edit: Jul 10, 2014 18:47:02 GMT -5 by Jack Murdock
Post by Christian Moynahan on Jul 11, 2014 3:14:15 GMT -5
I can’t be held responsible This is all so new to me Just when I think I’m invincible You come and happen to me -Crossfade, “Invincible”
At Maurelle’s jab regarding her bodyguards, Christian rolled his eyes. How perfectly like her. In fact, he should have expected her to be there, even if it was not for him. She had a hand in anything of importance, and he was sure this qualified as one. He certainly thought so. The Johessmans were his friends, and he had more or less had enough of the current American regime.
Gabriel’s lips twisted at Maurelle’s remark regarding his weapon. “You have to choose your battles,” he said, still holding Alex close. “This one is not ours.”
Alain was hardly paying attention to their conversation. He was looking at the battlefield. “Do you see that?” he asked, gesturing in its direction. Everyone on the battlefield - Alain and the others with him were too far away to be affected - had stopped, suspended in whatever movements they had been in before. Bullets had stopped; punches did not hit their marks. The cause of it all seemed to be a dark-haired woman making her way up the no man’s land, with a smirk on her lips, saying something to the people around her. Alain tried to read her lips, but she was too far away, and there was no way he was going close enough for her to freeze him like the others.
Unfortunately, while Gabriel was watching the events on the battlefield as closely as Alain was, Christian was paying no attention to it. His focus was on Maurelle; he was studying her closely. He knew she did not need protection. She was going to get it anyway. She was a force in her own right; she was a woman to be feared, not to be underestimated, and that was part of what drew Christian to her. She could take care of herself, with or without her “bodyguards.” But Christian felt a need to protect her all the same. This was a new sensation to him; he had never let anyone so close as to feel so protective. Then again, she had never let anyone so close to her either; perhaps that openness between them had formed a bond between them, a deeper bond than he could fathom or describe. That, he thought, that vulnerability, that tenderness, perhaps that made him want to shelter her, despite knowing how strong she was.
Maurelle told Christian exactly what he thought she would - that he was a short-sighted fool. But she said something he was not expecting. He did not consider himself important at all; being a “celebrity” was new to him. Fallon, discovering that his combination of confidence, charm, and good looks could boost Ark’s image as well as any of their products and projects could, had done her damnedest to make a star out of him. It seemed to have worked; first he had been on the cover of a few business magazines and then in the 40 under 40 list (along with Lucius and Maurelle), and then as Time’s Person of the Year. He supposed that made him someone important. But Maurelle took it a step forward - that his life was bigger than himself. Was he that vital, then? He had never looked at it that way; he knew only one thing… and it was that there was another life that was bigger than even his.
Upon Maurelle’s suggestion that they move, Alain agreed immediately, mostly because the dark woman was a potentially dangerous unknown. He ushered everyone, including the bodyguards (if they wished to move) farther up, well out of range of any bullets - although that hardly seemed to be a problem now. What did matter was what the woman and her entourage’s abilities were and how far those abilities reached. Besides, he thought it would be better not to be seen. He navigated their group into a small line of trees, out of sight and hopefully out of range.
As they walked, Christian took Maurelle to the side. “Must I say it now, with all that’s going on? I love you, mo chuisle, and if my life is big enough to matter, if I were ever to lose you….” He placed a finger under her chin and raised it so he could look into her eyes. “I can’t promise I would be the same.”
His gaze flickered from Maurelle briefly to the battlefield and back. “Which is why, above all, I need you to stay safe.”
Post by Lucius Kilvayne on Jul 25, 2014 23:01:14 GMT -5
Fåfänga, glömda råd Ingen nåd, inga tysta ord Borsprungna, vilsna De löpte I en cirkel Av oändliga onda dåd
En tystnad så tom utan tid
“Oh fuck no!”
Things at sea were going well. Unfortunately, the US had prepared carefully for the land battle. Their forces overtook Ana's troops and one man in particular managed to get close to the Johessman commander herself. Lucius alighted next to Dakari, withdrawing from the sea battle. His fiance wasted no time connecting with him so they could re-position themselves within the confines of the land battle. With them in the fray surely they would turn the battle against the Allies.
Lucius blasted at Allied soldiers, while Dakari protected the pair from stray and not so stray bullets, forming a knife to harry and potentially neutralize the brazen combatant who decided to fuck with a Johessman for some inexplicable reason. He saw a face he recognized in the opposing ranks. Trevor Taylor had come to fight against the Dominion. Last time, Brogan had engaged the man. Now, it seemed that bloodlust was motivating the Kilvayne ancestor rather than honor, so he ignored the presence of the worthy opponent in his midst. That was fine by Trevor, because he wanted a piece of the command chain to take down. He approached the power couple with no fear, no hesitation. They considered themselves Gods, but they were nothing compared to a life force manipulator. When he came within range, he began to drain their life force. Trevor only believed in one God, and no one there that day was Him . With white light blazing around him, and his brown eyes glowing blue...onlookers might just have disagreed with Trevor that day.
"And I thought we were friends," Lucius said as Trevor's hands grabbed him and lifted him off the ground. Lucius had never felt so weak. Not since he lost his powers. This was another kind of weakness. He had no energy at all. Especially since he had discharged so much of his stored electricity. He was a rag doll in the enemy's grasp. He only really feared for Dakari's wellbeing at this point. His life was nothing if he could not protect her...
"In another life, we might have been," Trevor said.
Lucius was tossed to the ground, and Trevor's fist stopped just short of his face. Something was very wrong here. Very wrong indeed.
Meanwhile, Marcus Grant found an opportunity to settle an old score. He noticed the big men from his first outing with Sparrow, when she joined the Company. The blond Scandinavian fellow was Lars Erikson, his quarry at the time. The other man was Brogan Kilvayne, who had knocked him out with a sucker punch. The bruise was there for weeks. He knew the guy couldn't be killed , but he could be hurt. That would be fun in itself. The Marine leveled his rifle at Lars, and fired. The burst of steel hit the man in the chest, neck, and head. Or rather, it should have.
Brogan's own blade fell short of its next victim's death at that moment, to the bewilderment of its owner.
{Conceit, forgotten advices No mercy, no quiet words Ran away, fled They set in a circle Of endless evil deeds
A silence so empty without time} Tiden Utan Tid by Finntroll
These people were so cute. All their sickness, and their fighting, and their warring, and it had all been for her. They’d had no idea. That was the intention, of course, but to see it in action was just precious. She smiled. Moving as slowly as she liked through the motionless battlefield, with her team behind her, she observed the killing that had been taking place at her whim, and smiled upon it as if she saw that it was good.
Lilith waved a hand, and her team stopped behind her. “I think it’s about time that I introduce myself,” she said, projecting her voice naturally, and adding a bit of her energy to it, loudly enough that everyone could hear it. “But first, I’ll give a mention to those who came before. I’m not the only one of my kind, you see. Just the first - and the last.”
She smiled. “I began my assault with a touch of mutant cholera. That was the unknowing handiwork of a young man in New York. That was pestilence. I’m nothing if not creative, as you’ll see. And I like themes. Did none of you recognize it? Really? That’s a shame. Even if you couldn’t figure out who I was, you ought to have seen this coming. I’ve planned it for years.”
With a disappointed shake of her head, she continued. “And my plan was almost foiled by a group of individuals who were as creative as I was. Almost. That was the famine. It was caused by a little Special girl in the Midwest. It should have sent the nation into a tizzy - but that group saw it first and stopped it.”
She shot a beaming smile up at the Lincoln Memorial, or near enough to it, where a small group of people, too far away to be seen clearly, were standing. “But then one man - the organizer of that group, actually - went for vengeance and chose to reveal the famine to everyone, destroying his own work. And that is why, however accidentally, you" -her smile was sickly sweet “-you, Christian Moynahan, are the true Famine.”
Next she nodded to her right. “The next one was less obvious, so I’ll pardon you for that. She’s a wily one. War is my dear friend Nadine Daugherty. She uses sweet untruths to bend nations to her will. Did you wonder where were the papers that started the war with the Dominion? They never existed. The Dominion never planned to take the Panama Canal. We just made that up because we knew the idea of it would drive certain nations to war.”
Now she took a bow. “And I am the end of everything. Of you, of your family, of your world as you know it. My name is Lilith, but you will know me as Death.”
She gestured to everyone around her. “I could just sap the life out of you right now, but that would be boring. I didn’t come all this way for boring. No, I expect you’ll all fight me, and fail, because I hold your lives - and your deaths - in my hands.”
She raised her hands, palms forward, in the air. “Are you ready? I mean, you can keep fighting each other if you want, but as I’ve shown, there’s no point,” she drawled. “I’ll ease you back into motion. It hurts less that way. One… two… oh, not quite yet….”
With another saccharine smile, she lowered her hands, and everyone in the vicinity had use of their bodies again, to do with as they wished.
Post by Sparrow Akiyama on Jul 29, 2014 0:54:23 GMT -5
West Potomac Park
When Lilith released her hold on them, Sparrow was the first to run at her. She’d already had her gun in her hands, but now she was firing at the dark-haired lady. Take out the head and the body withers, she had learned. Therefore, killing the leader was the best option, leaving the others to scramble and maybe even run away.
Ana and her siblings seemed to be of the same opinion. Following Sparrow’s example, they opened fire on the group, focusing on Lilith, completely forgetting that just moments before they had been shooting at Sparrow, not with her. There was a new threat now, and they had to neutralize it. Besides, now it was all out in the open; Lilith had confirmed that the Dominion had never had any designs on the Canal, and there was no longer any reason for the two sides to fight each other.
“Are you getting all this, Young?” Drea asked over her comms between shots.
Young was still on the flagship. Out by the coast, the Allies and Dominion ships were still firing at each other. “Getting what?” None of Lilith’s words had translated over the comms.
Drea was distracted. “Call a cease-fire!”
“What the hell for?” The Dominion was ever gaining the upper hand at sea, thanks in great part to Helena, and Young was not about to give that up. Unfortunately, Drea did not get a chance to answer him right away.
Dakari did not lower the shield - but it was weaker now. The same man who had saved her life during the cholera outbreak had decided to take it now, or try to, and the last she had seen, Lucius had been tossed on the ground next to her, where she had fallen herself. Now they were only lucky no bullets were being aimed their way. Dakari knew the woman and her crew were dangerous, but she had other cares to take of first. “Lucius,” she whispered, holding a hand to his cheek. “Are you all right?”
Marcus and Mira were now focused on the new arrivals. Unlike the others, however, the pair remained crouched where they were. “We need a plan,” Mira said.
“I don’t think we’re going to get one with everyone just firing off at the lot of them,” Marcus pointed out.
John Daugherty was making his way into the middle of the group. Of everyone gathered, he was likely the only one who realized how grave the situation truly was. He was reading the abilities of all of their foes, and they were not promising a very bright outlook for the rest of them. He needed a sonokinetic; the closest one was out on the bay, but he did find a teleporter, and asked him to bring the sonokinetic to the park. Within a few seconds, Rayne Campbell materialized next to John.
“I need you to help me get a message out to everyone,” John whispered as explanation, “but without Lilith and her gang hearing it.”
“Lilith? Who is-“ Rayne looked over at the black-haired lady. “Is that her?”
“Yes. She’s extraordinarily powerful, and so are her friends. Once they turn against us, we’re done for,” John said. “We need to warn the others.”
Rayne nodded. Within the next few seconds, everyone would hear John’s voice in their ears, as though he were standing next to them and whispering. “Listen. Lilith might have power over death, but she isn’t the only one who needs to be dealt with. The whole group is dangerous - and they’ll kill us all if we don’t take them out first.
“The blond man is a negator. He’ll drop all our shields and leave us exposed. He can negate as many of us as he wants at a time. The next one is a cryokinetic, and the weather’s just right for a bit of ice sculpting. The third, the one with the glasses, is a mental manipulator. He’s reading the Johessmans’ minds right now. Soon enough he’ll move on to the rest of us.
“The next one is a shapeshifter. She could very well morph into one of us and we would never know it. The other man’s a spacebender. I don’t even want to know what he’ll do. The last one… is the deceptive one. Leave her to me.”
All that being said, John got up, picked up a gun, and made his way to the group. The blond spotted him and moved toward John, but could not use his ability, as it was already in use. John overrode the man’s ability and put a bullet in his chest. Then, in the next second, he was on Nadine, twisting her arm back and pressing her to the ground, the gun level with her head, his concentration set to override any Special who tried to attack them.
He looked down at her with a slight shake of his head. “Please don’t make me use this, Nadine.”
Post by Christian Moynahan on Jul 29, 2014 0:58:44 GMT -5
Lincoln Memorial
Wonderful. Christian had really not needed the reminder of how his decision to expose the famine had cost the nation so dearly. But he had fixed it, and that had to count for something. He doubted it would count for Maurelle, who was still smarting from the losses she had taken in personnel and property, and he was sure he would not hear the end of it again. All his words, the ones he had just spoken, were washed away just like that; like so much sand on the water. And it was at that moment that Christian decided, knew, in his heart and in the pit of his chest, that he was going to kill Lilith for it.
Gabriel frowned. He knew what thoughts were pacing through his friend’s mind - could see them written on the man’s face. He placed a hand on Christian’s shoulder, meant to reassure him, but Christian barely seemed to react. Alain looked over at the two of them, and also realized what his boss was thinking. “Don’t beat yourself up, boss,” he said quietly. “She’s just trying to get to you, the bitch. Nobody’ll pay her any mind.
Suddenly, Gabriel started. There had been a gunshot - there were many gunshots coming from the park - but one in particular had made a percussive burst in his ears. His eyes went blank, and his form limp as he let go of Alex; he fell onto Christian’s shoulder, and Christian had to hold him there to keep the man from sliding to the ground. Neither Christian nor Alain had ever seen Gabriel in this state before, but Alex knew it well. Maurelle might not fall over, but she would experience a sensation similar to Gabriel’s.
When John Daugherty overrode and then shot down the ability negator, he restored the world’s precognitives to full power. Gabriel was immediately launched into a vision. He always switched to his subconscious when having a vision, but the sudden onset of this vision hit him with too much force. But it was over within a few seconds, and Gabriel stood up on his own, surrendering himself to Alex’s side once again.
Post by Jack Murdock on Jul 29, 2014 1:32:26 GMT -5
To say Jack was very confused by this new turn of events is an total understatement. One second he was pounding the crap out of the Dominion troops and the next, his mind went sort of blank on him. He could not understand it at all. Did the enemy used a mental attack?
What was even more strange was that once the blankness was gone, there was confusion and hesitation on both sides. Jack looked at the two equally confused thugs he was grappling with and then merely slammed their heads together hard. They fell down in crumpled heaps onto the park grounds.
Just then, Jack "heard" a voice near his left ear though there was no one close by. What the voice told him didn't fill him with much optimism but what he saw in the distance made him lick his lips.
"Oh great, just what we need, even more god damned nut jobs. As if the Kilvaynes and the rest of the psycho crew weren't enough to handle. Dibs on the head babe though." Jack answered with a leer.
Last Edit: Jul 29, 2014 1:45:52 GMT -5 by Jack Murdock