While attentions were diverted, someone else had entered the decrepit stadium and was partway toward the meeting place before anyone noticed him; from his Greaser attire, white hair, and the fact that no doubt at least some of Brett's present men and women had lost brothers in arms to this man, there could be no question even at a distance who he was.

Frank Jackson was making his way forward at a walk, both hand held up over his head and one of them waving a white sock in plain view. When eyes shifted to look at him, the skilled combatant slowly removed his Devastator pistols from their holsters with two fingers only, placed the impressive weapons on the ground, and kicked them away from himself before once more continuing forward at a normal pace and leaving his arms a distance behind him.

Once he was at the table, the war hero opened up his jacket in plain view to show he had no hidden weapons about his waist. He did the same thing with his ankles, placing one in turn on the table itself before lifting up the fabric. While he was at it, he replaced his sock, then once he had proven he held no concealed toys he stood upright once more and looked Brett in the eyes while laying his hands in clear sight on the table.

"You want all our cards on the table? Alright, here's their ace in the hole disarmed and standing right in front of you. Your hidden assets showed themselves, and now so has Meta's. I hear tell there might be some bad blood between us, and after Gaultown I could fully understand how that's possible. Yet right now all I want is to keep my people safe, and since you countermanded your own forces to prevent a full on fight I have to believe that you want the same. The last time we clashed many widows and orphans were made, and I for one do not want to pay that price again and from the actions you have just shown, I deeply hope neither do you. No blood has been drawn yet, we can still salvage this and everyone walk away healthy. Yes a rule of this Talk was no Gifts, yet I think we all knew that would be tested at least once. Now everyone has stretched their legs so to speak, with no true harm done. Let us consider this a shot across the bow in warning only, and proceed on. On my Honor, I promise not to make the first move, in hopes of ensuring peace."

The Commander and War had not spent much time around each other to date, so the older man's actions might well have seemed normal and plain. However, Meta's sharp mental facilities could easily pick up on certain things that seemed out of place; for one, the fighter was usually plain spoken, though now he avoided using the commonplace word 'but' in favor of 'yet'. Frank wasn't one to pad his point, but he had added 'shot across the bow' when he'd probably have simply said 'warning shot' in any other circumstance. Another oddity was he refined from using contractions, preferring instead to speak aloud the full words. If anything, his speech was a closer match for how Black Magic spoke than the old war horse himself. If all this wasn't puzzling enough, a quick check with his trusted AI would inform Meta that Jackson was still transmitting messages related to his instructions from his new boss and according to his biological signature had not left where he had previously been.

Gwen too could easily discover something was odd about Frank, for if she attempted to guard his mind as well from possible intrusion by the Commander she'd find nothing there; no thoughts, no feelings, not even the background hum of commands being sent to autonomic functions. It was as though the Immortal wasn't there, she would get the same result if she attempted to link with space filled with but empty air.

The Commanders eyes swiveled between each member of the GTF; regarding each with the same look of analytical calculation, anger, and uncertain paranoia that he'd been wearing all night.

"I'm rather glad to see you- Jackson. It's far easier for me to convince myself that you're not up to anything if I can keep you in my sights."

Commander looked anything BUT glad to see what he mistook for the old soldier, despite his claim. His hand remained clenched in the air in it's simple *hold* gesture. The air was still thick with potential violence, but at least it had cleared of desperate panic.

"So long as we are placing our cards on the table here is my situation, Mister Jameson..."

Commanders voice suddenly cleared of his permanently present tension, and he spoke to the Gifted genius with straight practical simplicity.

"I do not want to waste any more time playing this game of one-upmanship and threats. It's beneath the two of us, and will not help either of our situations. I would rather we move onto businesses immediately."

"Unfortunately, that is impossible. You've brought in a Gifted who cannot turn off her ability to read minds into a discussion in which I expressly forbade the use of any Gifts whatsoever- and no, Miss Brighton, I do not feel like discussing the technicalities of whether your lack of control constitutes as a deliberate breach in my security or not. From the evidence demonstrated it is obvious that it does, and that yourselves were the first to break the terms I have laid out."

"Your companion, Mister Jameson, has also directly threatened me and my men four times. That is four times that any other Namidian I know would simply wash their hands of the matter and scatter her troublesome brain from the back of her head. If the matter I wanted to discuss with you was not of the utmost importance I'm sure that I would have not been so patient. I will not tolerate a fifth threat to my soldiers or to myself. Reign her in before her idiocy gets someone killed."

"Finally, I have lost confidence in this exchanges security. By my assessment you have two choices, Mister Jameson; either we may both write this meeting off as a waste of time and go our separate ways, or we can attempt to salvage this embarrassment of a negotiation- which will require that you allow me to screen yourself and your bodyguards for additional subterfuge using my own Gift. If we are to continue talking there is no way that I can do so with the knowledge that your friend could be pulling thoughts from my head- and frankly there has been far too little trust offered from yourself for me to simply take you at your word that she won't."

As the Commander spoke, Gwen tuned him out; everything that needed saying was said, and as far as she was concerned all further verbal exchange could be handled by Brian. Everything she needed to know she had learned, this exchange serving to provide far more information than the Commander had likely meant to give away. As it was now clear they had no way to monitor the activity level of her Gift, she quickly built a mental connection with the GTF CEO, a mid-level meld he was quite familiar with. A series of memories and impulse flashes were easy enough for his Gifted mind to handle while listening to Brett talk, doubtless without giving anything away. Coded in the memories and impulses were the locations of Brett's men and awareness of their surface mental bleed-off, the trigger signs for Brett's Gift and what the intent to use it felt like, and the exact amount and application of psychic pressure needed to overstimulate dopamine receptors then induce stroke in every person who did not arrive on the GTF bird. Along with that came the same information for how to apply the tinnitus again, along with the resting, alert, alarm, and fight bleed-off norms for herself, Vandal, and Black Magic; Brian would know the instant they changed.

Gwen knew he was smart enough to realize she was giving him a loaded gun, but the enemy already had several aimed at each of them. She knew it wasn't her call to pull the trigger, just like she knew she didn't need to justify her actions to anyone. There could simply be no confusion at all in any present person's mind that there wasn't a bullet pointed right back down the sights. Still, Gwen couldn't put that trigger under Brett's finger or leave it under her own if Brian was to stand a chance of peacefully moving forward; so she granted the Commander his wish and allowed Brian complete control of her body and Gift until he relinquished the meld. For now, she would be held firmly 'in check' by Brian's will unable to even speak and restricted from all but the basest of movements. She had meant what she said, and this was the only way she could truly abide by what their opponent asked while still serving her purpose. If Brian willed it or if he released her without willing her to peace, both the enemy and their hostages would all die immediately and painlessly.

Just remember Brian, what has already come of trusting their kind, her mind whispered as she withdrew to watch quietly... ^liarshypocrites^thieves_marauderstraitors^backbitersmurderers

 Brian gave Gwen a hard look, a look that said we will discuss this at another time. Internally he did his best to give her a cautiously reassuring feeling.

 He turned back to the Commander, and considered his position. Trust. It was a two way street and it never hurts or is more frustrating than when it's not returned. If this had been a trap to capture one or all of them then it would've been sprung by now. No, the Commander simply wants to exchange information, which is beneficial to both parties, otherwise there would be little point. He trusted that Gwen would do what was necessary if the time came. Black Magic and Vandal didn't really want to be here and who could blame them, but some of this information might salvage the operation that we set out on. Besides he might be able to see more about what they knew about the Ring, these researchers were no slouches when it came to building the thing, Faye would've made sure of that. The future would not tolerate laziness. There was too much to do to protect it.

 He sighed, "Okay, let's show Brett we're willing to play ball guys, we're not here to rumble. Frank, since you decided to come along anyway, you go first and submit to Commander's Gift. Then I'll go. After that, will you be satisfied Commander or do you really need all of us? What can we expect with this screening process, just so we're clear? I need to be sure so that my team can recognize any red flags."

"...Brett?"
Commander said his own name and narrowed his eyes again to Gwen and Brian. He hadn't told them his identity. The Namidian thought hard for a short second, but seemed to dismiss the thought that his mind had been tampered with- he'd most likely decided that the GTF had found his previous identity through other means instead. It wouldn't be hard. Even the ITSDA had managed that.

"The screening is not intrusive. I will demonstrate what I had in mind- Private, I need to borrow you for a moment. Let the poor man go."

Commander lowered his clenched fist, slowly, and pointed a finger at the solider who had come within a hairs breadth of slitting one of the hostages throats before Black Magic and Commanders Gifts had stopped him. Brett held the finger point for a long second, as though giving his target a chance to prepare themselves. Huxley used his spare second to spit unhappily onto the ground, and roughly throw his hostage behind him- with the other prisoners.

"Huxley. Tell us how long you hesitated before attempting to carry out my orders."

A change came over the man. His posture stiffened slightly, and a faraway and detached look came over his eyes- it was as though his conscious thoughts had stepped away from the man for a moment.

"I didn't hesitate at all."

The young man spoke with a slightly monotone quality, as though hypnotised. Only a few seconds after the Commander had spoke Huxley blinked once and was immediately back to his old self. He looked disgruntled that he'd been used as a demonstration.

"...I suspect that Private Huxley finds pride in that fact, and would have said the same thing even if I hadn't used my Gift. That was a poor demonstration..."
Commander conceded. His hand was still pointed at his soldier, and with considerably less warning than before Commander gave his underling another order;
"Tell us all what you think of my ability as a Namidian."

"It's piss poor. You take needless risks just to keep your PTSD in check, like you're doing right now. If you spent less time..."

It looked as though Huxley intended to say more, but his eyes quickly unglazed and widened with panic. The Commander was glaring at his underling with an unhappy scowl. The solider shifted uncomfortably on his feet and tried to stammer out an apology- what he'd said had clearly been the truth, but it was the kind of truth that was healthy to keep to yourself. Few employees would ever tell their bosses how they truly felt, and if said boss was a high ranking member of the worlds most powerful terrorist cell...

"Thank you for the demonstration, Private. That will be all."

Commanders words were snarled through an icy cold tone, although that could have just been how the man talked in general. Brians Gifted powers of observation would have noticed that the duration of Huxleys susceptibility to Brett's Gift had lessened each of the three times he'd been subjected to it- Ten seconds for when his knife had been stayed, but scarcely only five seconds for the most recent question. It seemed that in the short term Commanders Gift had diminishing returns. Good to know.

Commander turned his attention back to the GTF.

"As you can see, no lie can hide from me. If I wish to check one of you for subterfuge I will point my finger at you, give you a moment to prepare yourself, and make a simple command. There will be no 'order' to the checks- to ensure that my standards are met I will screen you according to my own suspicions as the discussion carries on. I will also be screening myself, in the same way that Doctor Brighton detected earlier. All orders issued will only be related to this meetings integrity, and not to interrogate you for any confidential information..."
Commander spared Vandal and Jackson a glance.
"...If I overstep my boundaries with my Commands I am sure your subordinates will make their grievances known. So I won't."

"Are these terms acceptable?"

If Brian responded in the affirmitive Brett would point a finger at him. The warning. A second later he'd speak.
"One last demonstration, then. Mister Jameson, if you or your allies have attempted to hack into my communication or electronics systems since your landing raise your hand."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:59, Thu 12 Jan 2017.

 The corner of Brian's mouth turned up a bit as he nodded to the command, no one had attempted to hack their local comm network, he had come in good faith and thus no overwhelming urge to raise our hands. After breaking into the comm lines of the Schwartze Augen's kitbashed hypertech in Gaultown, he suspected The Commander's would be easier, not without challenge but something he could overcome and normally it might be something he'd do, but today was different he hoped. Even so, he wasn't here to be beaten up either, all his electronic countermeasures were primed and ready to fire and protect them. He'd have a mission satellite soon, but for now it was the extreme local area network, his suit and his plane, and everyone's subvocalizing mics and their own chameleon suits. He could monitor everyone's position from his own glasses.

 "Ok, so we're here to talk, and I think this seems reasonable," he gestured to the paper scraps of the Ring schema, "whatever else you want to talk about, I'm game. So let's get this over with."

Brian's hand didn't move. Commander's expression connoted mild surprise. He looked as though he were tempted to probe further with another Command- but he didn't. Trust was a very finite resources among Namidians, but for once the warlord saw a need to share it.

"Very well. I've kept you long enough, so allow me to explain why I've call you out here..."

The Commander retrieved a slice of paper from his camps table. It was one of many, and the rough blueprint printed on it's surface unmistakably described the design of Faye's 'Ring' device.

"From what I was able to recover from U.C Berkeley, Rumours, and from interrogating my prisoners, my Research Division seems confident that they are able to simulate a rough model of your devices capabilities... I won't pretend that they're even capable of building such a thing, but I'll admit that of of my Lieutenants was uncharacteristically excited just to see the theory behind the device in action."

Commander checked a different sheet of paper from the desk. All charts and graphs.

"The mathematics involved in predicting how such a cutting-edge device might operate are certainly formidable, and of course their accuracy is questionable, but my preliminary tests all point to one certain conclusion..."

"Mister Jameson, you need to destroy that machine as quickly as possible. It is too dangerous to be allowed to exist."

 Meta grappled with the implications, or lack thereof, of the Commander's last statement and it played out across his face. He took a second to regain his composure. "Someone probably said the same thing for fusion power generation and it's been happening now for decades, albeit not very well yet, but the people who didn't know what it could actually do for the world told everyone that it was dangerous to house the power of a star on Earth. They were right of course in part but they thought the Earth would be instantly burned to a crisp, that we would be incapable of shielding ourselves from the power of a star..."

"Turns out that plasma cools off pretty fast down here. On the other hand, we have a fusion bomb too. Power every home for a hundred years or bomb it into oblivion. Mutually assured destruction prevents that wastefully violent branch from going further, but they haven't stopped developing the technology that could eventually make cheap, nearly unlimited power, a reality. I understand your misgivings about the device Commander," Brian rolled back on his heels and tossed a hand towards the table with the files splayed out, "this is the next fusion, radio, car, Information Age, and Renaissance all wrapped up in one discovery. It's more important than you or me, or any of our plans. Even aside from it's immediate gravitic implications, it's a doorway to discovering how and why we are Gifted. You've heard of the original Ring from before the Gifted became prominent, no doubt? This was an attempt to duplicate it, in part...The fact that I'm trying to convince you to believe me at all, should tell you something Commander. I don't want to have to protect it from you or the other Namidian organizations and ITSDA's of the world. It shouldn't belong to anyone."

He half turned, "I have a duty to though, the responsibility is mine for now, but I need friends to help me. If you know what its value is, both for good and ill, and I know you're not a dumb man, then you must agree."

"Do not mistake me for some knee-jerking technophobe, Mister Jameson. Humanities ability to innovate around its problems is just one of the many things I treasure about our species... No, the Ring must be destroyed because the world is not ready for it. There are too many people who might grow desperate for its power and abuse it... that applies mainly to Me and Namidias, but also to yourself."
The dark sleepless rings under commanders eyes darkened as he lowered his gaze a notch.
"There are too many factions who would gladly seize power fully above their understanding and use it dangerously- all with the best intentions. You've already seen how many of us fought to possess the device the moment you moved it... what happens when The Ring goes the way of the Hydrogen Bomb and our own 'Gifts'? What happens when everyone has one? You would be handing the world the keys to a new superweapon- I have enough problems trying to keep this wreck of a war under control, without you adding fuel to the fire."

Commander crunched up the piece of graphpaper he had retrieved from the table into a ball, and threw it back onto the table. He'd read it already, and it seemed clear that Jameson wasn't going to.

"It's interesting that you mentioned 'mutually assured destruction', Mister Jameson, because I suspect that term is on the cusp of becoming outdated."
The warlord folded his arms across his chest and diverted his eyes unconciously towards his idling jet. It was as though he were considering leaving instead of going onto an uncomfortable off-topic subject.
"'Mutually assured destruction' only exists as long as no one fires the first shot. It's a fragile false sense of peace which has kept the world's largest powers relatively stable since the second World War- but the instant that just one leader shits the bed and turns the keys everybody dies. With the advent of Gifted nuclear weapons are not the biggest weapon on the rack anymore... and unlike nukes they can appear spontaneously without warning, and in the hands of absolutely anyone."
Commander ended his monologue with a rhetorical question.
"Mister Jameson, please let me borrow that mind of yours for a moment... how long do you think we really have until World War Three gets kick started by some idiot who wakes up one day with more power than he knows what to do with? Now that we have superhumans and superweapons how long do you think such a war will last, exactly?"

"Thanks to David Ort the world is a powerkeg, ready to blow. I am doing absolutely everything in my power to keep the fuse unlit. To me nothing is more important than that, and right now that means you need to shelf whatever plans you have for your 'not-a-superweapon' until it's safe."

Gwen listened from far away in her mind, mentally shaking her head at the short-sightedness she saw in front of her. If the man had truly cared about the future, and assuring humanity didn't bring itself to destruction, he would have stepped forward to help assure Faye's vision was the one the world followed. With the GTF funding it and the two most brilliant minds of their generation spearheading it, humanity would have escaped the threat of mutually assured destruction by evolving past it. Perhaps with a little extra help... one more ally watching over their shoulder...

Things might have ended differently, she emoted mournfully, sullenly. Brian, Faye gave you the future. We cannot let them have it... And they won't let us leave alive without a guarantee that we'll destroy it. There's still a chance... A way forward. We just have to get there first. Destroying the Ring isn't even enough anymore... The fact that even they have this much means people are already trying to replicate it. They'll eventually succeed. What matters most is who controls the first one and how it's used. We have to set the pace. They have to think we have it... we can't let them look for it.

She couldn't explain how she knew, but she had the feeling that Faye was still somewhere within reach. It was like an old memory, one of a familiar sky nearly forgotten... and a sense of finally meeting an old friend. If Faye was still somewhere within realistic traveling distance, then both her body and the Ring were recoverable. Nobody could be allowed to have either, or the fears of this paranoid terrorist would most certainly come to pass.

Frank smiled in a relaxed fashion, reached into his shirt, and produced two keys hanging from a chain; they looked odd in appearance, not the standard issue one might get from a hardware store.

"On February 5, 1958, the United States Air Force lost a 7,600-pound Mark 15 nuclear bomb in the waters off Tybee Island near Savannah, Georgia. During a practice exercise, an F-86 fighter plane collided with the B-47 bomber carrying the bomb. To protect the aircrew from a possible detonation in the event of a crash, the bomb was jettisoned. Following several unsuccessful searches, the bomb was presumed lost somewhere in Wassaw Sound off the shores of Tybee Island. It was left, abandoned really, due to two reasons; one was it was believed it would take an untold large amount of time to locate it, and the second was that if the casing had suffered any damage, the radiation leakage could end up killing any who did find it.

"Since I happen to be immortal for all intense purposes and do not age, guess what I found? You are most correct in this is a war, Commander, and I never had any intention of letting my enemy win. You might think it impossible to make such an aged weapon viable, yet I assure you that is not true; submarines in that same time period could launch an atomic bomb, all I needed to do was get the machines from one of those bays. Not difficult at all, since they were considered obsolete and surplus.

"While the world has gotten its head all twisted around by technology, I refused to abandon the tried and true old ways; no one here knows where the Ring is, expect me. You can of course try to force me and tell you, yet over the years I have taken quite a control over my own mind so I doubt you will find it an easy task.

"I can see both you and my boss are busy men, so I will spell this out plainly; no one is going to get that thing, not now or ever. Messing with it in the first place created the likes of Kane and myself, one good to cancel out one bad; I really do not believe either side wishes to see that balance shifted out of their favor. An army of me, you might as well pack your bags and go home. Kane, well the whole world is lost in that case.

"I do not know all the fancy stuff that went into making that machine, true, although I am aware that an atom is the smallest thing that exists in the universe and all things are made from them. So, regardless of what exactly this monstrosity is made of, I can still blow it back to atoms and have every intention of doing that.

"I have had years to prepare my ace in the hole, so I assure all of you the launch sight will not be discovered no matter how hard you search for it. I was not planning to use the bomb for this exactly, though it seems like a justifiable reason. I believe at this point there is no point in denying if anything happens in the here and now, I will be one of the ones walking away in the aftermath. These keys will not leave my person, and if I do not get a promise from this group, right now, I will put my plan in motion and blast this thing into next century. While you will find atomic weapons are no longer the most dangerous possessed by Humanity, my dear Commander, I assure you that they are still quite effective..."
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:38, Thu 23 Feb 2017.

 Meta turned his surprised gaze from Frank, understanding now just how big this bluff was. Frank wouldn't say anything like that, not nearly as verbose, still...

 Meta knew it was Black Magic by that point, the telltale signs were right there in front of him, a master of showmanship, basically pulling a hat trick, the presentation, even the mind bender at the end. Brian grinned in spite of himself, he could, with certainty tell the Commander that he didn't know where it was.

 He subvoked to the group's earpieces, ~Wrapping this up. Ready with a Tactical Withdrawal on my mark.~

 He nodded as he faced the Commander nonchalantly, as if to say, "that takes care of that."

 Brian looked to the Commander's face quizzically. "The world's always been a powderkeg, it's people that bring balance to it. It's not some far away thing, some unknowable 'when'. It's now, and we both know that you and I can keep that same fuse unlit, but the Big One IS coming, even though that person may just not know it yet and it will tear us apart regardless of our safeguards, or at least most of them unless we're standing all together in the world's defense," his brow knotted over his glasses, lending his face some intensity and sincerity, "I'm imploring you, leave Namidias. You don't need him and his agenda. It's a fruitless bargain."

 He half-turned to the others and his team that surrounded the meeting and then back to the Commander to survey the faces here. He took suitable mug shots of each through his hud, with a rough sketch of their biosignatures and stored them in the pocket files but he was getting really detailed information from the Commander himself due to his nearer proximity. "That goes for all of your guys too, that's my free advice. At any rate, my phone is open to the public or you can use all the back channels you want, but getting ahold of us with threats isn't going to happen anymore. I don't respond well, but appointments can be fun, just sayin'. Tea maybe? A brewsky? Whatever..."

 Brian shrugged as he crossed his arms,"Now, do we need to sign something to take custody of these beleaguered undergraduate physicists or should we just call their parents and have you drop them off?"
This message was last edited by the player at 08:01, Tue 28 Feb 2017.

"You own a nuclear weapon? Fuck off!"
Commander exclaimed in response to Black Magic's incredible bluff. The GTF was treated to the rare sight of the Namidian breaking his usual stern character in sheer incredulity.
"I don't even have a nuke!- did you know about this?!"
He looked in disbelief from not-Frank to Brian, as though expecting the other man to have his own opinion about this surprising new development. Brian was in on the trick, however, and didn't seem to react as strongly as he otherwise might have.
Commander let his agitation wash over him, and his face reset into it's usual angry mask as he gave himself a chance to rethink the situation.
"I don't believe that you would use your weapon, Mister Jackson, assuming that you actually have one. If you want to blow up The Ring I won't stop you- in fact I encourage it! Unfortunately I also don't believe that your friends here would let you damage their pet project."

The Commander turned his attention back to Brian.
"...You might be right."
Commander conceded when the scientist claimed that the world had always been unstable.
"-but the stakes have never been as high as they are now. I think that you place too much faith in people- I love humanity as a whole, I really do, but individuals always seem to disappoint me. If the world is going to be made safe it's going to need a guiding hand."

"I'm not going to switch sides any time soon, Mister Jameson. The other Namidians wouldn't let me simply leave; our organisation doesn't exactly work that way. For another thing it will take too long for me to meet my goals through legally legitimate means. I don't give a damn about the 'Wave's goals, most Namidians don't, but it's support is useful to me."
Commander also liked being in the 'Wave because it made it easy to keep tabs on his fellow Namidians. Today he was trying to prevent the apocalypse coming about because of rouge scientific curiosity, but tomorrow it could easily be someone on his own side who'd need to be reigned in. There was nowhere better to keep an eye on the worlds most dangerous terrorist organisation than from within it itself.
"At this point no matter what tactics I use I will be opposed by shortsighted fools who think they're doing the right thing, but at least this way I get funded."

Brett jerked his head to the hostages held behind him and made a signal with his hands. The hostages were pulled to their feet, the bags over he heads were removed, and they were roughly ushered forward.
"The terms of this meeting were that in exchange for the hostages you would hear me out- and you have. You may take them and leave, and I will make no attempt to prevent you from doing so."
Commander grimaced.
"I'll assume that your earlier disinterest in rescuing these men and women was feigned. A strategy to reduce their value to me during this exchange. I really expect better of you; Throwing an entire group of civilians to my mercy just because one of them -might- be an informant is brutal even by Namidian standards."

"If you think Namidias is going to simply continue to fund your goals unilaterally, without expecting anything in return, you are doubtless in for a very rude awakening in the very near future," Gwen stated quietly, freed now from her constraints as the threat of mutual destruction no longer need apply. Stepping forward, she knelt in front of the hostages and executed a quick mental physical, making sure they were healthy and hadn't been tampered with, altered, replaced, or rigged with any devices.

Satisfied they were clean, she nodded to Brian and stood, ignoring the harsh looks still being leveled at her by Brett's men. "There are powers at work here, Commander, that you will not be able to control or defeat; your professed love for humanity notwithstanding. By being separate, by fragmenting yourself from others, by refusing to present the common foe with a unified front you promote that very end you wish to deny. The world becomes what we perceive it to be... and your paranoia and need for control have twisted your perception. For a man with your position, your power... that perception can reach far indeed. You are actively creating the world you fear; a fact that both physics and philosophy correlate."

A moment of sadness crept past her mental guards, warning her that her earlier countermeasures against her grief and its side-effects had begun to fail... had possibly failed from the start. This time, she decided that it was that specific human quality that might be more useful now than the unflinching threat of a hammer held ready to strike. With a tear sliding down her cheeks, she approached Brett, her eyes firmly locked on his.

"Perhaps our- my methods may not be right," she said, pausing a foot away from the man, ignoring whatever tension might be ratcheting through the gathered assembly. "Perhaps yours aren't as well. But, if you truly believe humanity worth loving, worth preserving, then you have to admit that no single person can be trusted with the future of us all. If we leave with nothing resolved, we simply guarantee both parties waste time and resources trying to stymie the other... conflict will come again and again and lives will continue to be wasted. Listen to Brian, Brett. Become a check to our balance. For the love of humanity, stop putting people like us in the position of having to bargain with terrorists holding hostages and help us find the keys to unlocking all of our potential. See that our wishes align, and that you do not need to tie yourself to those with wicked intent in order to find your goal."

Another tear traced itself down her cheek as she stepped in the last foot, leaning close and whispering quietly in his ear...

Stepping away, she looked into Brett's eyes one last time before turning her back on them all and starting back toward the bird; motioning for the hostages to follow. Her presence as a deterrent and countermeasure was no longer needed, and the breaking of her emotional dam was imminent. The last thing she felt Brian needed in this negotiation was to offer full proof to the Commander that she was not emotionally stable. Whatever else may be said, she no longer felt she needed to be a part of it; although whether or not she would be free to leave un-accosted was yet to be seen as she approached the men guarding the perimeter of the meeting...
This message was last edited by the player at 18:10, Tue 28 Mar 2017.

 Brian nodded with Gwen's words. He'd sometimes had difficulty in relating to others even when logic guided him in that direction, putting words to those feelings and ideas had never been his strong suit. She'd managed to express his own ideas very clearly, whether she'd taken it directly from his mind, he wasn't sure, but it seemed like it. "Brett, she's right. You're needed, it just remains to see whether you'll answer the call."

 He huffed out a sigh and nodded to the Commander as he began to follow Gwen's example. "Till next time Commander."

 Brian called out over his shoulder at the hostages, "you fools coming?"

 When he caught up to Gwen he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, he wasn't sure if he should, but it seemed necessary and right.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:23, Fri 31 Mar 2017.

Frank regained his guns from the table, picking them up in a non-offensive way before sliding them back in his holsters. Then with a grin and a nod to Brett, he turned and walked off after the others. Black Magic as well put his back to the concluded meeting, polished dress shoes silently making their way over torn and shredded Astro-Turf toward the exit his party had entered by.

Brett tapped his hand to his ear, and muttered something unintelligible into a small headset concealed there. Directing his men to take the GTF's queue, stand down, and extract. Behind him the wing's of Commanders VTOL angled towards the ground and its launch jets began to glow and whine with building power as it prepared for takeoff. Further into the stadium surrounding them traces of movement could be seen as almost a dozen sniper-teams in urban ghillie suits began to move away in stages to cover each others retreat. Once he'd finished The Commander raised his weary glare but sharp glare back onto Brighteyes.

"You wouldn't accept my methods, Miss Brighton. It's as you've said; so far my pacifist goals conflict with my violent actions- but the payoff is coming, and I'm too committed into my plan to change course now. It's impossible for me to meet my ends by operating inside the law, and if you're serious about changing the world then I'm sure you'll find that out for yourself soon enough."

"My goal. My single goal. Is to establish global stability- I have no interest in advancing humankind intellectually, or risking the lives of my subordinates for your scientific curiosity. You GTF have your own aims, but the second that your attempt to 'unlock our potential' threatens to tip the balance of power again I'll be back. I respected you enough to spell out my intentions this time, but the next time that you pose a threat I won't be taking a risk with negotiations."

As he said this Brett raised his finger. As he'd said earlier it was his warning to indicate to the GTF that he was about to perform another purge for intrusions, as he'd done to Brian at the start of the meeting. His digit passed over Black Magic and Not-Frank, who had promised not to have used any of their Gifts, but thankfully settled onto Brighteyes instead.
"Raise your hand if you've been looking into my, or my soilders, minds since the start of the meeting."
He paused, but didn't lower his finger. The moment his influence wore off he spoke to her again! It seemed as though Brett didn't expect her to be so easily caught out- even if she had been breaking his terms.
"Raise your hand..."
This time he didn't finish his instruction- instead leaving it as a simple Command! It was a trap designed to see if Gwen was using her own Gift to filter his voice. If she hesitated to respond Brett would know that she was somehow resisting his Gift, and probably also his security measures.

 As the words the Commander uttered began to sink in, he felt a shadow pass over him and he shivered as it sent his skin into a cold sweat, a wave of adrenaline pulsed through his veins. Pure silence. He slapped aside his incredulous surprise at the Commander's audacity, in favor of a cold calculating response. Proverbs played involuntarily through his mind as he organized his priorities: Small is deadly, fear is the mind killer, the slow blade penetrates the shield and all that...

 Brian's view of the situation slowed measurably for himself as he began to take it all in, he mentally flicked the automated command to signal everyone on the team to retreat tactically. The message on Black Magic's HUD to appear in the next milliseconds would read "PREP FOR TEAM PORT. GO DEAF." in a high contrast font in the upper corner of his vision. Vandal's and Gwen's respective message would read "RALLY ON MAGIC. GO DEAF." at the corner of their view. Somewhere else Frank's own HUD would get the message after a few seconds delay signalling him that there was a "TACTICAL RETREAT IN PROGRESS. GOING DEAF. STANDBY".

 He felt the rising anger in his mental cohort as Gwen's neck tensed to turn her whole body towards the Commander, her arm already beginning to rise involuntarily. Her thoughts however were going from a gentle lapping of water on the ocean shore of his own consciousness, pulling outward towards a growing tidal wave of psychic energies. Brian recognized the feeling and knew there was nothing he'd likely be able to do to stop her, but instead whispered into their meld. ~I can't stop you but I'll protect you until I can't anymore. He pushed first, I know. Like a toddler, he's going to push us to see how far we can be pushed. Let's run it together, like we used to.~

 That milliseconds labor complete, he engaged his countermeasures including engaging his own noise cancelling earbuds, the closest thing he could find in the plane to a failsafe against The Commander's voice. His other countermeasure's took another millisecond to load up and send ten holographic Meta's running in different directions, the illusion being powered by a new algorithm in his light-bending suit's pocket-frame. Each would use randomized animations based on his own recorded movements at this very scene and attempt to cause confusion with the soldiers that surrounded them.

 Meanwhile in the confusion, his own position went into stealth mode as his suit began to bend light around his position and like a predator he seemed to fizzle from view.

 In the next second he launched his nearly invisible self closer to Black Magic, prepping himself for a tuck-into-crouch move less than a yard away, his outline still visible to the masked man while in the close quarters...

 He rolled close to Black Magic and as he came up he sent out wave after wave of radio band distortion, not even computer equipment would be able to communicate through the scrambling. Every earpiece not connected to Brian's tight network began to emit a high pitched whine: >SKREEEEEEezzzzEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEezzzzEEEEEEEEEEEEEEezEEEEZZZ!<

 A measure designed to scramble a sizeable chunk of radio communications. He didn't carry guns, but he wasn't unarmed either. He leveraged his mental power into an overdrive mode, his eyes flicking across the slowly unfolding battle scene to come, marking each man and woman. Probabilities and possible weaknesses he was able to deduce began to stretch several moves from this second into the future.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:18, Thu 06 Apr 2017.

CONNECTING TO SECURE GRID...
ESTABLISHING ENCRYPTED INFOLINK...
INCOMING MESSAGE FROM VEGA HEADQUARTERS...

//APPROACHING DESTINATION//
//ORDERS RECIEVED: DISABLE SEDATIVE COUNTERMEASURES//
//ACTIVATE AGENT 7//
//PREP FOR DROP//

The blood-red letters sped across the screen rapidly, basking the dark interior of the Chinook helicopter in an ominous glow. The windows that would usually grant the room light had been blacked out, and the two soldiers that had been sitting in the seats breathed a sigh of relief. One of them unbuckled from his seat and got up to read the message. The soldier nodded to his comrade, and the two moved over to the third man in the helicopter's interior.

The man was strapped firmly into a contraption that stood upright. Wires and tubes hung from the metal skeleton, and two ran into the man's neck. The man wore a heavy brown combat jacket, camouflage cargo pants, and black military boots. The visible skin was covered in white bandages, and a large black 7 was painted across the bandages covering his face.

The two soldiers worked quickly but cautiously, removing the needles from Seven's neck and unstrapping his limbs from his mobile prison. As soon as the deed was done, they both stepped back and readied their rifles, hands shaking and sweat beading on their brows. One of the soldiers pressed a button on the wall and the large door at the back of the helicopter began lowering with a mechanical hum. Seven began stirring, flexing his fingers and shaking his head around to regain feeling in his body. He stepped out of the contraption and moved towards the opening without a word, boots clanging against the floor.

A crackling noise appeared in Seven's ear, then a woman's voice. He new this voice well, and knew to obey everything that it told him. "Seven, you're awake. Good, you'll be dropping into Boura shortly."

Seven did not know what that meant, but waited patiently as the woman gathered information for him.

"Your target is Brian Jameson, the head of a non-profit organization founded after the Gaultown Incident. Mr. Jameson was involved in the creation of a second Ring, a device that has the potential to create more Gifted individuals. The ITSDA wants him alive for questioning, so make that your priority, but if capture is deemed impossible well..." The woman paused. "You know what to do."

Seven nodded to himself in understanding as he watched the helicopter door descend into place. Below was a sprawling city-scape overtaken by ruin and nature. Part of him wanted to ask why the city was like that, but he knew that he should never speak unless directed to. "Additionally, there is a secondary target. His name is Frank Jackson, an associate of Mr. Jameson and a traitor to the ITSDA. Eliminate him if the chance presents itself. You have 48 hours to complete your mission, there is no room for failure. I'll be in touch." Just like that, the voice was gone with a click and Seven's focus was turned to the moving landscape below. Seven readied himself, then sprinted towards the open air. He jumped from the moving helicopter and soared through the air, his body like a bullet plunging toward the concrete jungle.

---

Julia set her headset down onto the desk with a sigh. Holding her head in her hands, she stared down at the files and documents cluttering her work space, most of which had their contents redacted.

"You okay?"

Julia turned her head. It was one of the technicians that worked in the Control Room with her. She could never remember if his name was Kyle or Carl, but he seemed nice enough. He looked to her through those large wire-frame glasses with concern, but she brushed it away with a sad smile.

"I'm fine, these irregular hours just get to me sometimes." And it was true, with her job she would sometimes work a 12 hour day or not at all. It all depended on if she was needed to command a creature so powerful it could kill every single person in the office without breaking a sweat.

The technician shrugged and returned his eyes to his monitor. Numbers and graphics flashed on the screen, showing the vitals of a human being. The person's heart rate was beating at a rate that was impossible, and it's brain activity fluctuated heavily. Julia ran her hand through her long black hair, suppressing the need to vomit. She had been working at VEGA for a little more that 4 years, and it wasn't until 2 years ago that she had began to despise her work. Vanguard against Egregious Gifted Activity was an experimental R&D/black ops division of the ITSDA. They handled the shadier work that the ITSDA preferred to keep from the public. Seven was the product of VEGA's top minds, and very good at what he was made to do. Julia worked at VEGA previously as a sort of company therapist to whomever required her services. Though she never used it for invasive reasons, Julia was exceptional at influencing the actions of others.

When the Nameless Program began, Julia was reassigned by the head of VEGA to work as a handler for the soldiers. Reluctant at first, she realized she didn't have much choice. Director Howard was never one to take "no" for an answer.

Now she worked as the trigger finger for a weapon that killed anything that got in his the way.

Julia sat back in her chair, placing her headset back on and praying the carnage would end soon.

---

Hours later, Seven was jumping from rooftop to rooftop, using his sense of smell and hearing to direct him through the sprawl. The landing had been rough, but his outfit was still intact for the most part. It was probably a pain for the men and women back at headquarters to re-wrap Seven's bandages every time he returned from a mission, but the shapeshifter didn't dwell on it.

The hunt was going well, Seven had already consumed four or five people on his way. This would give him a decent array of disguises to use if he needed to. As he landed on a rooftop with a thud, he stopped for a moment to listen. He could hear voices, footsteps, and even heartbeats from yards away. Seven's ocular implants gave him a picture of the targets and a relative area of operation, but it wouldn't be enough. He used his sense of smell to discern the regular blood from the Gifted blood, it was easy to tell the difference. Seven propped his boot up on the ledge and took a big whiff. Lots of signatures from all over, but he caught the trail of something much sweeter. Without hesitating, Seven took off in the direction of the smell.

Seven found his way into the top floor of a dilapidated office building and listened from above as a group of people began shouting at one another. He reached up to his face bandages and pulled them down a bit, letting his right eye see down onto the scene. The action wasn't for him to see, but for her to see. Seven was told to discard any need for sight, as such a thing didn't matter to him anymore. His earpiece buzzed to life and the voice reappeared.

"That's the target down there, but..." The voice trailed off, and Seven tapped at his ear to make sure the device hadn't died. It seemed like the silence went on forever, until she spoke up once more. "New orders, you are to obtain a sample of the target's DNA only. Do not kill him or make your motives clear, the helicopter will be called to your location once it is done. The same timeframe applies, you will not fail."

The earpiece clicked and Seven replaced his bandages. The shapeshifter had learned the target's scent now, and could pick it out from the rest. Turning on his heel, he made his way out of the building, a plan forming in his head.

NON-CANNON BATTLE POST

 As the words the Commander uttered began to sink in, he felt a shadow pass over him and he shivered as it sent his skin into a cold sweat, a wave of adrenaline pulsed through his veins. Pure silence. He slapped aside his incredulous surprise at the Commander's audacity, in favor of a cold calculating response. Proverbs played involuntarily through his mind as he organized his priorities: Small is deadly, fear is the mind killer, the slow blade penetrates the shield and all that...

 Brian's view of the situation slowed measurably for himself as he began to take it all in, he mentally flicked the automated command to signal everyone on the team to retreat tactically. The message on Black Magic's HUD to appear in the next milliseconds would read "PREP FOR TEAM PORT. GO DEAF." in a high contrast font in the upper corner of his vision. Vandal's and Gwen's respective message would read "RALLY ON MAGIC. GO DEAF." at the corner of their view. Somewhere else Frank's own HUD would get the message after a few seconds delay signalling him that there was a "TACTICAL RETREAT IN PROGRESS. GOING DEAF. STANDBY".

 Before that second moment set itself into stone, the team's earplugs inflated to fill their ears comfortably emitting a low thrumming to cancel outside noise along and provide a steady beat for them to groove to...referred to as GOING DEAF.

 An overeager soldier let loose a preemptive blast from his submachine gun designed to cripple with solid slugs. It hit Black Magic with the force of a VW bus. The force was meant to prevent them from teleporting and it did just that, but the magician managed to roll with the blast, finding his footing and safe within his GTF suit from being pierced by the surprize projectiles. He struggled to regain his composure quickly.

 He felt the rising anger in his mental cohort as Gwen's neck tensed to turn her whole body towards the Commander, her arm already beginning to rise involuntarily. Her thoughts however were going from a gentle lapping of water on the ocean shore of his own consciousness, pulling outward towards a growing tidal wave of psychic energies. Brian recognized the feeling and knew there was nothing he'd likely be able to do to stop her, but instead whispered into their meld. ~I can't stop you but I'll protect you until I can't anymore. He pushed first, I know. Like a toddler, he's going to push us to see how far we can be pushed. Let's run it together, like we used to.~

 Brian's other countermeasures took another millisecond to load up and send ten holographic Meta's running in different directions, the illusion being powered by a new algorithm in his light-bending suit's pocket-frame. Each would use randomized animations based on his own recorded movements at this very scene and attempt to cause confusion with the soldiers that surrounded them. One of them stayed nearby, but far enough from Brian to give two clustered targets.

 Meanwhile in the confusion, his own position went into stealth mode as his suit began to bend light around his position and like a predator he seemed to fizzle from view.

 In the next second he launched his nearly invisible self closer to Black Magic, prepping himself for a tuck-into-crouch move less than a yard away, his outline still visible to the masked man while in the close quarters...

 He rolled close to Black Magic and as he came up he sent out wave after wave of radio band distortion, not even computer equipment would be able to communicate through the scrambling. Every earpiece not connected to Brian's tight network began to emit a high pitched whine: >SKREEEEEEezzzzEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEezzzzEEEEEEEEEEEEEEezEEEEZZZ!<

 A measure designed to scramble a sizeable chunk of radio communications. Meta didn't carry guns, but he wasn't unarmed either. He leveraged his mental power into an overdrive mode, his eyes flicking across the slowly unfolding battle scene to come, marking each man and woman. Probabilities and possible weaknesses he was able to deduce began to stretch several moves from this second into the future.

 The Commander's battalion sprang into motion. Those next to him knocking over the table for use as a barricade. It looked like a folding table, but this one was wisely lined with kevlar. The squad produced machine pistols and submachine guns, the noisy muzzle flash commenced immediately.

 Gwen's arm raised high above her head, Brian felt the need, strangely, to also raise his hand due to Gwen's bond but managed to resist the indirect urge and he felt the angry tidal wave growing within Brighteyes, and something else.

 The Commander's mouth was moving already again, but he was too slow. Vandal's face suddenly scowled and she took a few hyper-steps forward as a wind-up; then she kicked at a pile of rocks towards Brett's face from a few meters away, at many times faster than any soccer player could muster, it was as if he'd been hit by a shotgun blast full of rock salt. Then without pausing immediately she began zinging the hostages at almost breakneck speeds out of the stadium at their Landing Zone, the next thing that had been relayed across her HUD.

 He immediately fell back, his hands on his face, blood already trickling between his hands. His hoarse voice let out a dry angry command, but snipers on the hilltop fired without a command, their radios jammed, their scopes showed all they needed to know. "BRING ME THAT GiRL'S HEAD! Everyone else, begin extraction Foxtrot. Ivan, you read me?..."

 There was only a tinny squeal in his radios as the comms had become the target of Meta's scrambling.

 Black Magic was extremely busy, watching the Frank-who-was-not-there and transmuting bullets whenever he could catch them, the twin fire teams on the right and left flank let loose and the team began to fall back slowly. Gwen providing some cover even as her angry dark side began to rise in power and influence. Brian's doubles were scampering across the field towards and away from the fire teams, doing their level best to confuse the scene, though he had a very limited time to use them, lest they drain his battery power entirely. Brian began to switch them off one by one as sharp, blade edged cards flitted between the trio at incoming enemies. One of Huxley's knives on a collision course with Gwen's neck was knocked away by an errant staff swing.

 Brian felt a sizzling pain in his gut, submachine gun fire had glanced off of his ribs in multiple places, his armor more to stop rounds from piercing than absorb all the shock. Momentarily he dropped his concentration and collapsed to his knee in pain; the telepath and magician began to crowd in closer to their leader.

 Several men launched themselves at Gwen, attempting to overwelm her with numbers, keep her from taking them out one by one, as they suspected she might be able to do. She began to warp their senses of up and down, using a modicum of Brian's gift to punt them away from her. Suddenly they were on her, too many to individuallly repulse, she screamed at them as she released a wave of telekinetic force sending them reeling, "NOOOOO!"

 The silenced rifle of one of the snipers up on the stadium upper scaffolding snapped off a Gift-Stopper 45mm round at Black Magic. The magician would've taken the bullet in the ribs but their resident speedster came in for a return haul and slapped it out of the air with a >ZAT!< and a sizzle sound, a jolt of lightning emanating from the round and through the speed demon. Her suddenly limp body went rag-doll and into the left flank group of the Commander's men. At that speed neither she in her current state nor the men had any idea what was coming. She crashed into them at highway speeds and the entire group lay still.

 Brian barely had time to swear under his breath. A JOHNNY-5 window opened on his HUD, ~Boss I've got a secondary network nearby, highly encrypted stuff, I'm attempting to crack it, just because I'm curious, seems like .gov though...~

 Brian's eyes squinted the intensity of his focus into his fast-time again, ~thanks JOHHNNY, stay on it. I'll be AFK for a few...~

 The connection between himself, Gwen and suddenly, Black Magic, deepen for what seemed an eternity, but really only lasts an instant until they were compressed together like mental diamond. Strangely, Brian also felt reluctance on Gwen's part to come to such an unusually strong joinder. Nevertheless they were now one, a single unit. Each in turn accepting the invitation Gwen provided. Their gestalt comprised of Gwen's telekinetic ability and telepathic coordination, Black Magic's sleight of hand and teleportation, then rounded out with Brian's hyper-analysis and his ability to act as manager of this gestalt, in a way. Of course with such superlative psionic connection, how could he tell where he began and where Black Magic or Brighteyes ended? It made no difference at this second, they responded with one voice, "Surrender. NOW."

 Vandal was suddenly back in the action, she seemed to buzz through the rubble and smacking away a few guns before they could fire at the team.

 Brian had already been highlighting targets, firing-arcs and trajectories for the general sharing amongst his comrades, giving everyone a greater than not chance to dodge the immediately incoming BLAM, BLAM, BLAM of submachine gun fire. Meanwhile Gwen began to use Brian's lesser gift like it was her own, applying telekinetic force at every point of entry into their small circle, bullet after bullet ricocheted or was turned to shrapnel sent arching away from the group. They couldn't keep this up indefinitely which was where Black Magic came in, whom up until now had been helping the Frank-who-was-not-there toss people around with his augmented illusory capabilities; his own gifts being helped by Gwen's rougher telekinetic force for ghost Frank's fists.

 The Commander snorted, "Fuck that! Huxley, I told you to kill that bitch!"

 They began to summon their combined willpower for a final strike as Huxley began stalking forward. Meanwhile the Commander tossed a frag over his shoulder and over the barricade table. Ghost Frank caught it with a powerful lay-up and landed near the Commander. He pitched the grenade like a baseball towards the Commander's VTOL and it exploded on impact, showering the area with small pieces of wing turbine.

 Frank-who-was-not-there smirked as he leaned over the table towards the Commander, who immediately attempted to blow the immutable man's face off with his bloody desert eagle loaded with a Gift-Stopper round. The illusionary Frank flickered for a second and smirked again. Then suddenly turned seeing Huxley moving in on Brian, the more tempting target at the moment as the tactician stumbled to his feet.

 Suddenly Vandal seemed to appear near the Commander as well as Black Magic, simultaneously. Her body seemed all-a-blur as she shifted back and forth at such high speeds. It was a new and unique use of her powers, surprising even to her own teammates. She yelled at them but their ear buds blocked it. She smiled ruthlessly, and Gwen's eyes lit up with cold fear and she threw herself bodily at Vandal as she reached for Magic. The young red haired woman was suddenly impaled on Vandal-turned-Ivan's reality warping arm as he let his own simple illusionary disguise drop away. He had phased up to his wrist into the young woman's chest. A sickening >THUMP< sound could be heard as he solidified there. Frank disappeared suddenly as Peter's concentration was suddenly shattered, his capability to create illusion gone from the shock of what was happening. Pain radiated throughout the hive-mind.

 The Vandal near the Commander suddenly shifted into Ivan following suit, letting his bodily manipulation drop away, and Gwen's face hit the dirty ground hard. She was bleeding out pretty badly, blood seemed to gush from the wound. Ivan lifted her heart into the air as he snapped into back into the reality space near Commander his dual selves made from extreme speed and manipulation of his personal space, which had made him seem very much like Vandal in power. Her heart beat one last pump of red blood as it spilled out of the exposed organ in the russian's hand.

 Dread silence descending on the scene as Gwen's already pale face began to turn ashen. Both Black Magic and Brian could feel her slipping away from their weakening link. As a siren song they felt a quick and fast burst of mental energy, slipping into their stream of consciousness. Brian and Black Magic yelled at the same time, "NO!"

 "Pity," Commander said as he picked himself up, "I told you to get my men and equipment out first..." Brett turned towards the now crippled GTF, "as for you three, you're mine. I'm gonna make you pay for this. I really liked that craft. First, you, the ego-maniac. Jameson. GET UP!"

 Ivan grunted, "this seemed more fun for me. I wanted to be the one to bring her head to you, but I got this instead...AND I got all your unconscious men to the saferoom," the Commander grimaced even as he chuckled nervously, his face still fairly bloody from pebble shot.

 Huxley used the surprize opportunity to catch the magician off-guard. Holding one of his signature knives to his throat, "I've got you now Magic-man," he said into Black Magic's ear. Suddenly Black Magic's cloak collapsed in Huxley's grasp, BM's body becoming immaterial, only to reappear behind the killer. Suddenly the two were sparring, Black Magic using his telescoping baton and knife edge cards to inflict small and painful cuts and blunt force strikes, while Huxley leveraged the power of his blade talents, parrying and lunging at the magic user's hurling cards and batons. Finally he flipped a knife into the air as Magic shot his blade edged cards through the space where the surly ex-black ops soldier's hands had been a millisecond prior. Suddenly Huxley's hand shot forward again like a launched piston and hit the flipped blade out of the air at Black Magic who took it in the shoulder.

 Brian was agasp, air only now finally coming back into his lungs after being hit in the ribs, which he deduced were broken. He stood and raised his hands in surrender as he glanced back from the sight of Huxley standing over Black Magic, near Gwen's lifeless body, where was the real Vandal? Brian steeled his face against emotion, separated it from himself and focused. Quiet, very quiet.

 Suddenly Meta appeared behind Ivan as he phased into a single reality space a few paces from the Commander, the real Meta, not the holographic ghost standing near Black Magic; his chameleon suit shedding it's color bending field as he pushed a fallen soldier's blade deep into the reality manipulating assassin's back. He grabbed the russian around the neck and leveraged the knife deeper as the he solidified around the blade. The russian struggled until Meta hypoed him.

 The russian stumbled to the ground before him and Brian let him go he would be asleep in seconds if the stab wound didn't kill him. Brett's gun was already levelled at Meta. Neither hesitated. He stood before the Commander and as he took a bullet in the clavicle and the gift-stopper electrified him and scrambled his equipment, he let loose Gwen's final gift, he unleashed a series of telekinetic bolts at the Commander, first to give him a black eye, then to double him over and finally an uppercut to send him flying.

 Both of them hit the ground at roughly the same time. Both of them unconscious.

 Black Magic was under Huxley's boot, and as soon as he had looked over to see what was happening with the Commander, Peter managed to leverage his boot into a twist that spun the man and he flipped the man onto his stomach then latched onto his leg as he rolled up the man's back. Using the kinetics of his spin, he thumped the back of the ex-soldier's skull into the ground. He was out. With a flourish he continued the spin onto his feet and he looked around the scene. A few men were still struggling but most were retreating, except for the snipers. Where were they?

 As if in answer, a young figure appeared carrying several bodies on their shoulders. He approached cautiously and slowly. Peter watched as he walked over to Brian and checked his pulse. He produced a sock and duct tape in each hand as if performing for an audience. He then stuffed the sock into the Commander's mouth and taped his mouth shut.

 Finally the new person drew a #7 in the air as he dumped sniper bodies a few meters away from Peter. Sensing that this was some poor soul from Boura, Black Magic made no hostile move but nodded in respect and provided a thumbs up as Black Magic was still on DEAF mode. He tapped his mask and the bubble of his inflated ear piece retracted so he could hear again.

 "These guys looked like they were going to kill you all," Seven said in the disguise of a young man, "do you need any more help?"

 Peter nodded, "yeah, I could use some help getting my friends out of here."

 The young man nodded and and surveyed the fallen, "which ones?"

 JOHNNY-5 messaged Black Magic, ~Evac incoming. Heading to the rendezvous landing site. Nurse Jackie onboard...~

 Black Magic sighed, "her, him and him for sure," he said pointing at the Commander, "There's another woman somewhere I think, he didn't grab all of them, did he? Frank's gonna kill me if she's been captured," Peter began to ramble mostly to himself as he walked around the scene looking for Sarah.

 Meanwhile, Seven knelt next to the GTF creator and from a belt holster he withdrew a small hypo and pierced the unconscious Brian at an opening on his suit to withdraw a thimble full of blood in a single neat and smooth motion. He then picked up the three bodies and followed Peter.

 Ahead, he saw the skid mark that lead to Vandal's still unconscious body. "Finally my good boy! Let's get these folks into the ER shall we, care to go on a trip?"

 Seven waved the magician away, "thanks but no thanks. I don't like doctors."

 Peter tipped his hat towards the young man and disappeared with his four patients, heading towards the rendezvous a mile away, where there would theoretically be a bunch of formerly hostage physicists as well...

END SCENE

This message was last edited by the player at 02:54, Sat 29 Apr 2017.

                                                                                      NON-CANON BATTLE POST

Keeping the scope of his high-powered sniper rifle trained on the GTF representatives down below, the sniper sighed through his black balaclava. His spotter partner beside him fumbled with his range-finder telescope. They both lay prone on the scaffolding, keeping conversation to a minimum as they provided overwatch to their allies and Commander on the field. The spotter shifted his position to click his walkie talkie into the on position.

"All Sniper Teams, report."

The walkie talkie crackled as the voices of the other spotters checked in one by one.

"Sniper Team Two, all good here."

"Sniper Team Three, reporting."

"Sniper Team Four, checking in."

Team One's spotter waited for a moment, listening for a sign of Team Five's response.

"Team Five, what's your status? Over." The spotter called out, quickly becoming frustrated with the silence. He turned his range-finder telescope over to where Team Five was positioned, hoping to find them signaling that their walkie was busted. Instead he was surprised to find a lone rifle, it's trigger-man and spotter missing. Before he could do anything about it, he could hear The Commander's voice call from all the way down on the field. The spotter gave a nod to his partner, who began firing shots at the enemy Gifted down below.

---

Black Magic was extremely busy, watching the Frank-who-was-not-there and transmuting bullets whenever he could catch them, the twin fire teams on the right and left flank let loose and the team began to fall back slowly. Gwen providing some cover even as her angry dark side began to rise in power and influence. Brian's doubles were scampering across the field towards and away from the fire teams, doing their level best to confuse the scene, though he had a very limited time to use them, lest they drain his battery power entirely. Brian began to switch them off one by one as sharp, blade edged cards flitted between the trio at incoming enemies. One of Huxley's knives on a collision course with Gwen's neck was knocked away by an errant staff swing.

 Brian felt a sizzling pain in his gut, submachine gun fire had glanced off of his ribs in multiple places, his armor more to stop rounds from piercing than absorb all the shock. Momentarily he dropped his concentration and collapsed to his knee in pain; the telepath and magician began to crowd in closer to their leader.

 Several men launched themselves at Gwen, attempting to overwelm her with numbers, keep her from taking them out one by one, as they suspected she might be able to do. She began to warp their senses of up and down, using a modicum of Brian's gift to punt them away from her. Suddenly they were on her, too many to individuallly repulse, she screamed at them as she released a wave of telekinetic force sending them reeling, "NOOOOO!"

 The silenced rifle of one of the snipers up on the stadium upper scaffolding snapped off a Gift-Stopper 45mm round at Black Magic. The magician would've taken the bullet in the ribs but their resident speedster came in for a return haul and slapped it out of the air with a >ZAT!< and a sizzle sound, a jolt of lightning emanating from the round and through the speed demon. Her suddenly limp body went rag-doll and into the left flank group of the Commander's men. At that speed neither she in her current state nor the men had any idea what was coming. She crashed into them at highway speeds and the entire group lay still.

 Brian barely had time to swear under his breath. A JOHNNY-5 window opened on his HUD, ~Boss I've got a secondary network nearby, highly encrypted stuff, I'm attempting to crack it, just because I'm curious, seems like .gov though...~

 Brian's eyes squinted the intensity of his focus into his fast-time again, ~thanks JOHHNNY, stay on it. I'll be AFK for a few...~

---

Julia watched through the monitor as Seven made his way through the run-down hallways of the stadium. His ocular implants and earpiece allowed Julia to see and hear everything he did, though at times she wish she couldn't. The dozen or so technicians in the Control Room sat at their respective desks, monitoring their computers and screens. Suddenly, the bespectacled tech that sat near her started murmuring and typing hastily.

"Oh, fuck."

Julia looked over to his monitor to see multiple error messages popping up, their orange letters and hazard signs dominating the screen. "Oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck." He repeated, his pudgy fingers slamming keys rapidly.

"What's going on?" Julia asked, leaning over in her seat.

"We're being hacked, somebody's trying to gain access to our network." The tech looks puzzled, fixing his glasses as he peers at the screen. "I mean, I think it's a somebody. Whoever this is, they're a fuckin' wizard."

"Don't be ridiculous, their wizard is currently in the middle of combat."

Both Julia and the tech turned to face their boss, the head of the entire VEGA department; Director Warren Howard. The man was tall and handsome, despite nearing his mid fifties. His grey hair was cut short and stylish, and his beard was grown out to resemble a mountain man. Warren wore an expensive white suit and let a black cane dangle from his hand. He gave the two a warm smile, his icy blue eyes piercing straight through them. Warren pointed toward the monitor with his cane and gave the tech a look. "You gonna take care of that? Would be a damn shame if our tidy little operation was ruined because you couldn't keep your eyes off me."

The tech seemed flustered and moved back to his computer, desperately trying to counteract the hack. The entire Control Room flew into an organized panic, all trying to aid the attempts in shutting the hacker out. Julia and Warren remained still among the chaos, simply looking at each other. Warren gave her a grin. "Oh, not you too sugar. We all have jobs to do, and I'd say yours is rather important. I'm just here to cheer on the troops, as it were."

Julia glared at Warren before turning in her chair to face her monitor. If there was one person she hated in this world, it was him. She had diagnosed him with narcissistic personality disorder the day she met him, and he was doing everything in his power to prove that diagnosis. On the monitor, Seven was currently ripping the arm off of a poor soldier, and Julia was getting to experience it all in first person. From behind her, she could hear Warren chuckle over her headset. "God damn! That never gets old."

---

The sniper pulled the trigger, worked the bolt, and repeated. The spotter beside him was calling out potential targets and their ranges, the perfect machine for long-ranged murder. They were so caught up in their bombardment that they didn't notice a figure creeping up behind them.

Finally as the sniper reloaded his rifle, the pair could hear the crunching of footsteps behind them. The sniper turned his head, the spotter jumping to his feet and drawing his assault rifle to the figure. The spotter was about to tell the person to freeze, but stopped when he saw that it was Sniper Team Two's sharpshooter. The man was holding his side, blood seeping from his body armor. The spotter ran to him and steadied Sniper Two. "Soldier! Are you alright?! What happened?"

Sniper Two coughed and wrapped his arm around the spotter, struggling to stand.

"More GTF operatives, ones we didn't know about... They killed the others. We're done here."

"What? We never got an order to retreat."

Suddenly, Sniper two shoved his fingers into the spotter's mouth, closing them around his bottom teeth in a vice grip. The spotter gagged, grasping at Sniper Two with a confused glare.

"W-w-w-e'ree do-o-ne h-ee-re-e"

Sniper Two repeated himself, a gurgling distortion of the man's voice. Without hesitating, Sniper Two ripped the spotter's jaw from his skull and dashed it to the ground. Sniper Two threw the spotter from the scaffolding, his body plunging to the ground without a sound. Sniper One looked on with horror, but quickly snapped out of it, drawing his sidearm and firing three shots into Sniper Two.

The man lurched as the bullets hit him in the chest. Sniper Two began convulsing inhumanly, the bullets popping from his flesh onto the floor with a wet clink-clink-clink. Sniper One began backing up as Sniper Two continued his advance, his eyes dead and devoid of any feeling.

"S-stand down soldier! Back up!" Sniper One commanded, his heart sinking as he reached the edge of the scaffolding. Sniper Two walked until he was face-to-face with the cowering sharpshooter. Sniper Two's face began to split apart, the flesh peeling and folding outward. Sniper One was frozen in fear, what was this thing?

"B-back Upp!

With that, "Sniper Two" punched Sniper One square in the face, the force sending his head back with a nasty crack. Before his body could fall to the ground, Sniper Two kicked it from the scaffolding. After the deed was done, the rest of his body began to peel and fold from the center, his bones cracking and muscles swelling until Sniper Two was no more. Seven stood there now, looking out toward the battle on the ground. He didn't waste any time, dropping from the scaffolding to make his final approach to his target.

---

The russian stumbled to the ground before him and Brian let him go he would be asleep in seconds if the stab wound didn't kill him. Brett's gun was already levelled at Meta. Neither hesitated. He stood before the Commander and as he took a bullet in the clavicle and the gift-stopper electrified him and scrambled his equipment, he let loose Gwen's final gift, he unleashed a series of telekinetic bolts at the Commander, first to give him a black eye, then to double him over and finally an uppercut to send him flying.

Both of them hit the ground at roughly the same time. Both of them unconscious.

Black Magic was under Huxley's boot, and as soon as he had looked over to see what was happening with the Commander, Peter managed to leverage his boot into a twist that spun the man and he flipped the man onto his stomach then latched onto his leg as he rolled up the man's back. Using the kinetics of his spin, he thumped the back of the ex-soldier's skull into the ground. He was out. With a flourish he continued the spin onto his feet and he looked around the scene. A few men were still struggling but most were retreating, except for the snipers. Where were they?

---

Dragging the body of Sniper One with one hand, Seven trudged across the field. It had seemed the battle between these people had resolved itself. He shrugged, if anything it made it easier for him to complete his mission. Seven stopped himself before he reached the group, remembering her voice. Do not make your motives clear.

Black Magic turned to see a lanky young man walking towards them, his fingers twisting around each other in anxiety. His clothes were filthy and his brown hair was matted down with sweat and grime. Black Magic let out a sigh of relief and smiled to the boy, obviously not a threat.

"Ah, young man. This area is dangerous, are you lost?"

The young man nodded and scanned the bodies on the ground until his eyes fell upon Brian. "Y-yeah, heard all tha' commotion, thought it was gang stuff." He walked over to Brian, dropping to a crouch over his unconscious body.

"I see. Well, if you'd like I could take you out of here, wouldn't be any trouble at all."

Black Magic watched the young man closely, but turned to try and find his lost comrade. "Now where could she have flown off to? I do hope she's alright..."

While the magician was indisposed, the dirty young man produced a small hypodermic needle and punctured Brian's suit. He pumped a small amount of blood before stowing the needle in his pocket. The young man stood and faced Black Magic just as he returned, dragging Vandal with him. "So! How about it, my boy? Care for a ride?"

"No, I'm okay. I think I'm gonna look around here for a little, been awhile since I been to a football game." He said quietly with a shy smile.

Black Magic nodded and tipped his hat, bowing with a flourish. "Suit yourself! I wish you luck, my friend." And with that, Black Magic and the four others dissapeared with a flash.

The young man transformed back into Seven, who tapped his earpiece twice.

"Understood, a helicopter will be your way shortly." The woman said, her voice tense. Seven stood in the field, his head turned up to the sky as he awaited his approaching evac.

As Brett spoke his Commands his eyes sharpened and bore into Gwen's. The simple fact was that he didn't trust any of the GTF as far as he could throw them, but he trusted the telepath least of all- she had already made a point of threatening him from the very start of the meeting, and clearly wasn't interested in cooperating to the same degree as her teammates. She had already invaded his mind once this meeting, and he felt completely certain that she would try it again. The smart thing to do would have been to cut his losses and run after the the first miss-step, but the emotionally illogical part of the Namidian still desperately hoped that he could resolve the negotiation cleanly and professionally.

"Raise your hand if you've been looking into my, or my soilders, minds since the start of the meeting."
...No reaction! Commander knew that if the young scientist had pulling unsolicited thoughts from his skull that he'd have an information breach- and that he'd have no choice but to plug it. A small part of Brett's mind wanted to trust Gwen's action at face value and to put a clean end to the meeting, but his paranoia wasn't so easily put aside. He knew that there were hundreds of ways for the GTF to resit his Gift, and instead of letting it go he deployed another test...

"Raise your hand..."
...This time she reacted! Good! As Gwen's limb acted against her will and took to the air Brett was reassured that she wasn't using her Gift to parse his own. For an instant a surge of relief washed over him- maybe his attempt at diplomacy would bear fruit after all, maybe no one would need to die. The flood of relief that washed over him was crushed only a moment later as his peripheral vision caught movement; Metas arm rose into the air in sync with Brighteyes as their mind-meld caused them both to be affected! Despair and panic rushed through Bretts mind as he knew that the trigger fingers of his sniper teams would already be tightening! His terms could not have been simpler; no Gifts, no subterfuge, play by the rules, and everyone would get to walk away unscathed!- and somehow these so-called 'geniuses' had decided that the rules didn't apply to them! The moment that he saw the movement Brett was already trying to form the words to tell his snipers to stand down, but subconsciously in the microseconds before the sports arena stormed into chaos he knew that it was far, far, too late...

Commanders men acted out of pre-drilled instructions and intensive training. The GTF acted with hyperfast mental processing and a shared mind. Almost the instant that Brian's arm began to raise each side was forced to play their opening moves, and like a game of chess each participant had drafted their plans around anticipating and overcoming their opponents strategy. Both sides reacted instantly as the thin veneer of civility between GTF and Namidian broke down, and the first few seconds of the battle prove vital! Although everyone acted at once time seemed to slow to a crawl as those with the fastest reactions fought to establish a vital early lead.

0.325 seconds.
Incredibly quickly in real time, but glacier slow to the GTF, commanders snipers adjusted their aim and took their shots. Eyes narrowed and dozens of fingers tightened on triggers, but human reactions had their limits- and it wasn't Namidias who threw the first blow...
Likewise, Meta's hyper-acute mind and Gwen's ability to take advantage of it were both wasted as their minds stayed clouded and dimmed by the effects of Brett's Command- it would still be a few moments before they could regain control of themselves.
No, the first to act was Vandal; The Ex-Agent's reactions were highly strung, and her Gift was already in action as the first muzzle-flashes flared into life from the stands around her! She could see heavy 50.cal shells sluggishly scything through the air towards her and her teammates in hyper slow motion, and even with her enhanced speed it was all she could do to rudely push Black Magic, Brighteyes, Meta and the hostages out of the bullets path! As fast as she was Vandal's Gift wasn't unlimited, and as the first bullets slowly brushed past their intended victims to tear craters out of the stadiums negleted turf she could already feel the limits of her Gift beginning to take effect and pull her back into real-speed...
She had about a millisecond left to act- and she knew just how to spend it.
Vandal saunterd up to the frozen Namidian who had been the cause for this whole mess, and carefully flexed her fingers.
"Namidian son of a bitch!"
Sarah swore, moments before delivering a hypersonic punch into The Commanders jaw! At her speed the punch hit with a dull clap of force, and a widening ripple of displaced air as her knuckles broke the sound barrier! With her last moments of hyper-speed unspooling Sarah could see the warlord's jaw dislocate and his feet leave the ground with the sheer force of her superhuman punch!
"Try speaking through that!"

0.850 seconds.
Black Magic could almost taste the tension in the air. Whether it was some kind of precognition, or simply common sense, Peter Vargus somehow knew that the exchange had been about to become sour. Less than a second later his instincts were confirmed, and as a Vandal-shaped blur sped across the pitch the Magician felt himself roughly pushed aside by the shoulder as a bullet cut through the air where his head had been only a moment prior! The blur re-formed and slowed down into his teammate right infront of The Commander, who in turn suddenly took to the air with a sharp crack of broken bone- and crashed bodily into the table of paperwork he had been perched by.
Peter would have liked to have congratulated his friend's quick reactions, but he wasn't foolish enough to think that he was out of danger just yet... instead he raised his white gloved hands with a flourish and clapped them together! A small spark of pyrotechnics flared between his palms, and an explosion of dense white smoke suddenly enveloped the group. Twirling his hands in the air like a showman the Magician continued to summon more and more protective smokescreen even as he could hear wasted ammunition buzzing past him as the Namidian snipers failed to re-sight their targets.
Further afield Ivan watched dispassionately as Commanders best laid plans went awry. His men reacted on their orders, but it seemed likely that none of them would be able to take down the GTF before their heavy-hitting leaders recovered.
"Really, for all your talk about being a master strategist you still lack commitment, Brett. I could have ended this with just one bullet days ago."
Ivan shook his head, but didn't dwell on the thought for very long. He had his own orders to carry out- and Commanders loss was about to become his gain. The Namidian mercenary had been told that if the meeting went sour that his first priority was to evacuate Commanders men, and only to engage if necessary or explicitly ordered. It wasn't his usual contract, but Brett's money was good, and so the man vanished from view and begun to pluck Bretts militia from the battlefield and pull them to safety.

1.480 seconds.
Gwendylynn and Jameson felt their thoughts return in unison. Their two minds working as a single excellent machine to recover quickly, and put an escape plan into action. Gwen thought first.
"~He refuses to cooperate, continues to threaten, betrays our trust, and even disdains the progression of humanity. He gives lie to his ideals and will continue to be a roadblock. I have already given my promise as to what would happen should he use his Gift as he just did. I vote justice be meted out this instant~"
Brain's mind responded in turn, taking only milliseconds to decide on his plan.
~I can't stop you but I'll protect you until I can't anymore. He pushed first, I know. Like a toddler, he's going to push us to see how far we can be pushed. Let's run it together, like we used to.~
A third mind entered the meld, although it's connection was distant and hazy to Gwen. Jameson had a mental connection with his AI, Johnny, that the telepath could detect but not directly engage with in the same way as she could with human minds- normally the AI's computerised mind seemed to run at thousands of times the speed of any humans, but only with the benefit of Brians Gift and mental interface did she feel as though she could keep pace with it.
[JOHNNY. LET'S PUT THIS NEW SUIT TO WORK. DRAFT A DIVERSION ALGORITHM, AND HELP PETER KEEP US ALL COVERED.]
Gwen could already feel Brian's plan as though it were her own; his priority was to get his team back to their craft with as few injuries as possible, and to keep the GTF unharmed. The telepathic scientist wanted the same thing, but she had far fewer qualms about crushing those who stood in her path like insects. Her recent tragedy had hardened her heart, and she felt no regret when she started to flip the mental switches necessary to tap into the minds of the men and women shooting at her and turn their brains to mush. For his part Brian wasn't leaving all his work to the others, and he triggered one of his many countermeasures he held to scramble the wireless communication of anything nearby- with the exception of Brians own encrypted network. The airwaves of Boura suddenly became blasted with static and white-noise that rendered most forms of communication useless!

3.200 seconds.
Commander felt blood rush to his head as his entire body felt as though it were lifted by the jaw with several G's of force, the acceleration might have been enough to concuss him or send him unconscious if he hadn't crashed back to earth a full second later. The stab-proof vest the Namidian wore beneath his coat dampened the damage of him crashing through his portable table and sending pages of notes into the air, but it didn't do anything to keep the air from being pounded out of his lungs when he finally hit ground.
The second that he landed Brett could feel blood pooling in his mouth from his dislocated jaw, and he hissed in pain and fury as his headset shrieked static noise into his ear- Brian's work, he guessed. He tore the malfunctioning device away and tried to find his feet and focus his double-vision back onto his targets;

The GTF were falling back, their Magician was making life difficult for his snipers by scattering smoke across the battlefield. As Commander watched it seemed as though random flickers of movement and distorted light would occasionally pierce through the smokescreen, draw gunfire, and then vanish again- if Brett had to guess he would assume that it was another mechanical trick of Brians, or a Gifted illusion. In either case Brett's tactical assessment was that the situation was grim for both parties; he himself would have trouble pinning the GTF down whilst they had so many active Gifted on the field, whilst the GTF would certainly have a tough time fighting a path back to their transport craft. The battle had turned messy and now hung on improvisation and quick thinking- Brett preferred his plans to be neat, and to be carried out to a carefully laid script, but that was no longer an option. He only hoped that the GTF were as uncomfortable in this situation as he was.

Just as that thought crossed his mind Commanders ear began to ring, and he felt his chest suddenly convulse tightly! Even through his Kevlar Brett could feel his heart suddenly double it's rhythm and start to pound hard against this ribcage- he head an involuntary cry of pain from behind him, and his now bloodshot eyes widened in panic as his worst fears were realised! All the men around him were in the same state of pain, as though they had all begun to suffer simultaneous heart attacks!
Brighton! That telepathic bitch was about to make good on her earlier threat! Brett would have sworn in fury but for his broken jaw!
Clutching a hand to his heart in a vain attempt to keep himself from going into cardiac arrest Brett knew that he would need to act- and act fast- or both himself and his valued subordinates would be cut down! With his communications blocked by Meta calling for backup was impossible, and Vandal's punch had ensured that he couldn't rely on his Gift. The Namidian decided that it was time for him to go into full damage-control mode, and that he couldn't afford to hold back his full firepower any longer! With shaking fingers he tore the compact grenade launcher he carried from his coat's lining, loaded it, and aimed it towards the air as his edges of his vision began to blur red. An explosion of propellant sent a shell flying skyward where it seemed to hang ominously for a moment, and then explode into a burning red magnesium flare- Brett grimaced at it for a moment, but finally broke out into a pained but grim smile when his ears picked out the distant rumble of artillery.
He could still accomplish his objective, and keep the GTF's curiosity from burying the human race- diplomacy had failed, but he could still flatten them beneath howitzer fire!

---

"On me! Keep moving!"
Brian's eyeglasses pierced the Gifted smoke surrounding them and that kept them safe from the volleys of ammunition being fired from the dozens of guns surrounding them. his hardware could superimpose high-contrast and thermal imaging information over his normal vision, and Gwen was playing her part by communicating that information to the rest of the GTF. With their combined effort the group was able to stay hidden from the Namidian snipers, however it was only truly random chance that was keeping them safe- Brian's Gifted intellect unhelpfully warned him that even will all his tricks each bullet fired into the smokescreen had a roughly %1.2 chance of striking someone- and that of those hits %33.3 would be lethal or incapacitating. His enhanced mind also told Brian that each casulty that the GTF took would lower their overall combat effectiveness, and make it exponentially easier for the Namidians to cause additional damage- even risking a single second of exposure to strike back against the Namidian was a risky gamble that could easily swing the battle into The Commanders favour.
"Keep your heads low, Jackson's only five minutes away!"
It was basic math; each second that they were exposed would subject them to more gunfire, and a chance that someone would be irreparably injured. The best and only tactic, therefore, was to keep the chances of being hit as low as possible and to get his team out of Commanders 'kill zone' as quickly as he could. Once he had regrouped with Frank and gotten out of the sights of Commanders Snipers Jameson knew that his own odds of success would skyrocket.
The group fought their way off the pitch, stepping over the potholes that sniper rounds were tearing up from the ground and weaving between Black Magic and Meta's smoke and mirrors. Their steps took them to what had once been the sports stadiums players entrance. As their feet pounded toward it Brain felt a message from Johnny intrude on his thoughts;
[Brian! Stop! The hallway's rigged to blow!]
As the AI warned him Meta's eyepeice shifted vision modes into microwave imaging, and Brian could suddenly see that the route that they had used to enter the stadium had been lit up like a Christmas tree!
[Commander must have had his men set this up during your talk. This is the only exit- you'll need to defuse it to proceed.]
Brian ground his teeth in frustration, but he already knew that his artificial friend was right. There wasn't any other easy way out by foot, and the only other option was to have Jackson recall his jet and land in the stadium itself...
Looking behind him he could see The Commander's VTOL hovering in the air, flying unevenly due to his technical interference but still too much of a credible threat to risk taking head on. He cast his eyes around until his glasses had picked out the circuity and detonators that had been placed around his one and only exit- and then his analytical mind got to work in attempting to find a safe way to defuse them. As he worked Gwen sensed his intentions, and took over command of the group to let him work undisturbed.
"Peter, Sarah, we need to hold position for a moment! Do everything you can to keep fire off Brian! You!"
This time she directed her intense focus at the hostages they had taken.
"Get down and stay out of the way if you don't want to die! We don't have time to mollycoddle you!"
As she yelled at them Gwen realised that there were only two of Commanders three (and one hidden) hostages with them. Looking back out across the field she could see a limp figure lying on the ground in the path they had taken to get here. One of their UnGifted followers had gotten unlucky, and a stray shot had all but cut them in two. Brighteyes was too angry and focused, but on the edges of her mind-meld she could feel revulsion well up in her teamates. This was going to get even uglier before the day was done.

Not far away, in the abandoned car-park outside the stadium, Frank Jackson sat at the helm of the GTF songbird that had brought him here. The old wardog had anticipated trouble from the start, of course, but now he knew that the exchange had gone south. The crackle of distant gunfire was unmistakable to Jackson, and so he had immediately set about preparing GTF's transport for takeoff. Sitting in the cockpit and impatiently watching the Stadiums entrance for his team didn't sit well with the man, but as much as he wanted to draw his pistols and sprint in to his teams rescue he knew that it would be a bad idea- his job was to guard the jet, and if he stormed off now to be 'Action Jackson' he knew that he'd be leaving the GTF's one and only means of escape from Boura completely vulnerable. The city was full of Namidians, Supervillians, and worse- and being left stranded here would be a death sentence in and of itself.

Frank grumbled out his frustration as he kept waiting. A sudden explosion of light caught his attention, and he could see a red flare soar into the sky far above the Sports Arena. Looking at the bright signal reminded him of his time in Vietnam, and he remembered that way-back-when such signals were used... used to...
Frank heard the rumble of artillery, firing from about nine miles away.
"Fuck!"
Team or no team Frank knew that he needed to move! He flipped switches, and sharply pulled the Songbirds flightstick toward him to spur it's engines into life and attempt to get him off the ground! In the skyline behind the arena Jackson already imagined that he could see the dark shapes of indirect howitzer-fire arcing across the city towards his position. A moment later his crafts systems released a set of warning shrieks as they detected what Frank already knew was about to hit him! He pressed his headset hard into his ear and sent a message out to Brian.
"James! I've come under fire, I need to move tha' bird into the air- keep your head low and tell me when you're ready to be picked up! We'll have to do this the-"
The rest of Jacksons warning was punctuated by a cacophony of explosions as The Commanders shells hit home! The aircraft had managed to climb a dozen or so meters into the air, and so it was spared a mauling as irregular and indirect explosions rocked the ground beneath him reduced the entire car-park into pebbles. The underside of the VTOL rocked and emitted whining sounds of stress as it was punished with shrapnel, and the instrumentation in Frank's cockpit flashed warnings to tell him that his engines, landing gear, fuel lines and just about every part of the bird had taken a hit! The jet hovered uncertainly for a moment, but with Frank wrestling the controls he was able to keep it airborne.
"...As quick as you can, Kids! They're going to fire another volley any second!"

Back inside the stadium the GTF continued to fight for their lives. Brian's mind was fully occupied in trying to disarm Commanders trap whilst Black Magic, Vandal, and Gwen were doing what they could to reduce the gunfire directed at them. Peter's Gift helped ward off the densest of gunfire, and Vandal kept her reactions sharp to catch anything that made it through his defences. For her own part Gwen kept locking onto the minds of whoever she could connect with, and time and time again she forced her victims brains to overstimulate and to force her enemies into heart attacks. Even now behind the defensive shield of her teammates Gwen spied another muzzle flash- and reaching her mind out she found another pair of Namidians taking aim at her; A sniper and his spotter. With a slight but careful jab into their thoughts she threw off their aim and sent the signals that would put them out of action permanently! At the distance the enemy snipers were firing from it was difficult for the telepath to spot them with eyes alone- but suddenly a dark shape materialised where she'd seen them last, and then vanish, taking both the minds she was assaulting with it!
She blinked once, twice. Was she imagining things? She threw her minds influence out further, and quickly came to the realisation that there weren't nearly as many bullets hammering into her party as there were only a moment before. That could only mean one thing!
"Brian, I think there's another Gifted on the field. A teleporter, maybe."
She spoke aloud, so that the rest of the GTF could hear her.
"Keep an eye out for it, then. I'll be done here, just about... now!"
As he spoke Brian sent the mental impulses he needed into his jamming signal, held his breath, and hoped that he'd remembered his hacking skills correctly. A wireless message found their way into the bombs blocking their escape, and remotely triggered their 'disarm' functionality along with what Jameson hoped would be the right set of access keys to keep his tampering from detoxing them immediately. Along the corridor all the explosive traps beeped once, and then silenced. Brian breathed a sigh of relief- he knew that he'd be able to overcome the Namidian devices in normal circumstances, but being shot at during a hack only made a difficult and risky job all the worse.
"Right, no time to waste! We're almost at the finishline, but Jackson says they're targeting the jet!"
Leading by example Brian was the first to take off down the previously trapped hallway at a sprint, and the rest of the GTF soon followed...

CANON BATTLE POST

As Brett spoke his Commands, his eyes sharpened and bore into Gwen's. The simple fact was that he didn't trust any of the GTF as far as he could throw them, but he trusted the telepath least of all. She had already made a point of threatening him from the very start of the meeting, and clearly wasn't interested in cooperating to the same degree as her teammates were. ]And she already invaded his mind once this meeting; it was certain that she would try it again. The smart thing to do would have been to cut his losses and run after the first misstep, but the emotional core of the Namidian's mind desperately clung to the notion that he could resolve the negotiation cleanly and professionally.

"Raise your hand if you've been looking into my, or my soldiers', minds since the start of the meeting."

... No reaction! The Commander knew that if the young scientist had been pulling unsolicited thoughts from his skull, he'd have an information breach and ultimately, no choice but to plug it. A small part of Brett's mind wanted to take Gwen's action at face value and put a clean end to the meeting, but his paranoia wasn't so easily put aside. He knew that there were hundreds of ways for the GTF to resist his Gift, and instead of letting it go he deployed another test...

"Raise your hand..."

...This time she reacted! Good! As Gwen's limb acted against her will and took to the air, Brett was reassured that she wasn't using her Gift to parse his own. For an instant, a surge of relief washed over him; maybe his attempt at diplomacy would bear fruit, after all. Maybe no one would need to die. The flood of relief that washed over him was crushed only a moment later as his peripheral vision caught movement; Meta's arm rose into the air in sync with Brighteyes' as their mind-meld caused both to be affected! Despair and panic rushed through Brett's mind; he knew that the trigger fingers of his sniper teams would already be tightening! His terms could not have been simpler; no Gifts, no subterfuge, play by the rules, and everyone would get to walk away unscathed!- and somehow these so-called "geniuses" had decided that the rules didn't apply to them!

The moment that he saw the movement, Brett was already trying to form the words to tell his snipers to stand down. But subconsciously, in the microseconds before the sports arena stormed into chaos he knew that it was far, far, too late...

The Commander's men acted out their drilled instructions and intensive training. The GTF acted with hyperfast mental processing and a shared mind. Almost the instant that Brian's arm began to raise, each side was forced to play their opening moves. Like a game of chess, each participant had drafted their plans around anticipating and overcoming their opponents strategy. Both sides reacted instantly as the thin veneer of civility between GTF and Namidian broke down, and the first few seconds of the battle proved vital! Although everyone acted at once, time seemed to slow to a crawl as those with the fastest reactions fought to establish a vital early lead.

0.325 seconds.

Incredibly quickly in real time, but glacially slow to the GTF, The Commander's snipers adjusted their aim and took their shots. Eyes narrowed and dozens of fingers tightened on triggers, but human reactions had their limits. So it wasn't the Namidians who threw the first blow...

Likewise, Meta's hyper-acute mind and Gwen's ability to take advantage of it were both wasted as their minds stayed clouded and dimmed by the effects of Brett's Command - it would still be a few moments before they could regain control of themselves.

No, Vandal was first. The Ex-Agent was high-strung, and her Gift was already in action as the first muzzle-flashes flared into life from the stands around her! She could see heavy .50 cal shells sluggishly scything through the air towards her and her teammates in hyper slow motion. Even with her enhanced speed, all she could do was rudely push Black Magic, Brighteyes, Meta and the hostages out of the bullets' paths! As fast as she was, Vandal's speed wasn't unlimited. As the first bullets slowly brushed past their intended victims to tear craters out of the stadiums neglected turf, she could already feel the limits of her Gift beginning to take effect and pull her back into real-speed.

She had about a millisecond left to act. And she knew just how to spend it.
Vandal sauntered up to the frozen Namidian who had been the cause for this whole mess, and carefully flexed her fingers.

"Namidian son of a bitch!"

Sarah swore, moments before delivering a hyper-sonic punch into The Commander's jaw! At her speed, the punch hit with a dull clap of force and a widening ripple of displaced air as her knuckles broke the sound barrier! With her last moments of hyper-speed unspooling, Sarah could see the warlord's jaw dislocate and his feet leave the ground with the sheer force of her superhuman punch!

"Try talkin' now!"

Then, spotting the hostages beside her primary target, she took a deep breath. In this battle, the frightening seconds 'till she'd recharge seemed like a hours-long affair.

0.850 seconds.

Black Magic could almost taste the tension in the air. Whether it was magical precognition or simply common sense, Peter Vargus somehow knew that the exchange was about to become sour. Less than a second later, his instincts were confirmed. As a Vandal-shaped blur sped across the pitch, the mage felt himself roughly shoved aside by his shoulders as a bullet cut through the air where his head had been only a moment prior! The blur re-formed and slowed down into his teammate right in front of The Commander, who suddenly took to the air with a sharp crack of broken bone and crashed into the table of paperwork behind him!

Peter would have liked to have congratulated his friend's quick reactions, but he wasn't foolish enough to think that he was out of danger just yet. Instead, he raised his white-gloved hands with a flourish and clapped them together! A small spark of pyrotechnics flared between his palms and an explosion of dense, white smoke suddenly enveloped the group. Twirling his hands in the air like a showman, the mage continued to summon more and more protective smokescreen even as he could hear wasted ammunition of the Namidian snipers buzzing past him.

Further afield, Ivan watched dispassionately as Commanders best laid plans went awry. His men reacted on their orders, but it seemed likely that none of them would be able to take down the GTF before their heavy-hitting leaders recovered.

"Really, for all your talk about being a master strategist you still lack commitment, Brett. I could have ended this with just one bullet days ago."

Ivan shook his head, but didn't dwell on the thought for very long. He had his own orders to carry out - and The Commander's loss was about to become his gain. The Namidian mercenary had been told that if the meeting went sour that his first priority was to evacuate his client's men. Further, he was only to engage if necessary or explicitly ordered. It wasn't his usual contract, but Brett's money was good. And som the man vanished from view and begun to pluck Brett's militia off the battlefield and pull them to safety.

1.480 seconds.

Gwendylynn and Jameson felt their thoughts return in unison. Their two minds worked as a single, excellent machine to recover quickly and put an escape plan into action. Gwen thought first.

"He refuses to cooperate, perpetually threatens us, betrays our trust, and even disdains the progression of humanity. He gives lie to his ideals and will continue to be a roadblock throughout our journey. I have already given my promise as to what would happen should he use his Gift as he just did. I vote justice be meted out this instant."

Brain's mind responded in turn, taking only milliseconds to decide on his plan.

"I can't stop you, but I'll protect you until I can't anymore. He pushed first, I know. Like a toddler, he's going to push us to see how far we can be pushed. Let's run it together, like we used to."

A third mind entered the meld, although it's connection was distant and hazy to Gwen. Jameson had a mental connection with his AI, Johnny, that the telepath could detect but not directly engage with in the same way as she could with human minds. Normally, the AI's computerized mind seemed to run at thousands of times the speed of any human's. But with the benefit of Brian's Gift and mental interface, she finally felt as though she could keep pace with it.

[HEY JOHNNY. LET'S PUT THIS NEW SUIT TO WORK. DRAFT A DIVERSION ALGORITHM AND HELP PETER KEEP US ALL COVERED.]

Gwen could already feel Brian's plan as though it were her own; his priority was to get his GTF team back to their craft with as few injuries as possible. The telepathic scientist wanted the same thing, but she had far fewer qualms about crushing those who stood in her path like insects. Her recent tragedy had hardened her heart; she felt no regret when she started to flip the mental switches necessary to tap into the minds of the men and women shooting at her and turn them to mush. For his part, Brian wasn't leaving all his work to the others. He triggered two of his many countermeasures. Firstly, he scrambled the wireless communication of everything nearby - with the exception of Brian's own encrypted network. The airwaves of Boura suddenly flooded with static and white-noise that rendered most forms of communication useless!

Simultaneously, he deployed ten holographic Metas that all ran off in wildly different directions. The illusion was powered by a new algorithm in his light-bending suit's pocket-frame. Each would use randomized animations based on his own recorded movements at this very scene and attempt to cause confusion with the soldiers that surrounded them. One of them stayed nearby, but far enough away from Brian to give any potential assassins two clustered targets.

3.200 seconds.

Commander felt blood rush to his head as his entire body was lifted by the jaw with several Gs of force! The acceleration might have been enough to concuss him or toss him into a coma if he hadn't crashed back to earth a full second later. The stab-proof vest the Namidian wore beneath his coat dampened the damage of him crashing through his portable table (sending important papers flying everywhere), but it didn't do anything to keep the air from being pounded out of his lungs when he finally hit ground.

The second that he landed, Brett could feel blood pooling in his mouth from his dislocated jaw. He hissed in pain and fury as his headset shrieked static noise into his ear; Brian's work, he guessed. He tore the malfunctioning device away and tried to find his feet and focus his double-vision back onto his targets.

The GTF were falling back and their illusionist was making life difficult for his snipers by scattering smoke across the battlefield. As The Commander watched, it seemed as though random flickers of movement and distorted light would occasionally pierce through the smokescreen, draw gunfire, and then vanish again. If Brett had to guess he would assume that it was another mechanical trick of Brian's or a Gifted illusion. In either case, Brett's tactical assessment was that the situation was grim for both parties; he himself would have trouble pinning the GTF down whilst they had so many active Gifted on the field. Meanwhile, the GTF would certainly have a tough time fighting a path back to their transport craft. The battle had turned messy and now hung on improvisation and quick thinking. Brett preferred his conquests neat and carried out according to a carefully laid-out script, but that was no longer an option. So he only hoped that the GTF were as uncomfortable in this situation as he was.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, Commander's ear began to ring and he felt his chest suddenly convulse tightly! Even through his Kevlar, Brett could feel his heart suddenly double it's rhythm and start to pound hard against this ribcage. He heard an involuntary cry of pain from behind him and his now bloodshot eyes widened in panic as his worst fears were realized! All the men around him were in the same state of pain, as though they had all begun to suffer simultaneous heart attacks!
Brighton! That telepathic bitch was about to make good on her threat! Brett would have sworn in fury but for his broken jaw!

Clutching a hand to his heart in a vain attempt to keep himself from going into cardiac arrest, Brett knew that he would need to act - and fast - or both he and his valued subordinates would be cut down! With his communications blocked by Meta, calling for backup was impossible. And Vandal's punch had ensured that he couldn't rely on his Gift! The Namidian decided that it was time for him to go into full damage-control mode; he couldn't afford to hold back his full firepower any longer! With shaking fingers, he tore the compact grenade launcher he carried from his coat's lining, loaded it, and aimed it towards the air as the edges of his vision began to blur red. An explosion of propellant sent a shell flying skyward where it seemed to hang ominously for a moment, then explode into a burning red magnesium flare! Brett grimaced at it for a moment, but finally broke out into a pained, yet relieved smile when his ears picked out the distant rumble of artillery.

He could still accomplish his objective and keep the GTF's curiosity from burying the human race. Diplomacy had failed, but he could still flatten them beneath howitzer fire!

---

"On me! Keep moving!"

Brian's eyeglasses pierced the Gifted smoke surrounding them. Right now, it was the only thing that kept them safe from the volleys of ammunition being instinctively, desperately fired from the dozens of guns surrounding them. His hardware could superimpose high-contrast and thermal imaging information over his normal vision; Gwen was playing her part by communicating that information to the rest of the GTF. With their combined effort, the group was able to stay hidden from the Namidian snipers. However, it was only truly random chance that was keeping them safe - Brian's Gifted intellect unhelpfully warned him that even will all his tricks. each bullet fired into the smokescreen had a roughly %1.2 chance of striking someone. And of those hits, 33.3% would be lethal or incapacitating. His enhanced mind also told Brian that each casualty that the GTF took would lower their overall combat effectiveness and make it exponentially easier for the Namidians to cause additional damage. So even risking a single second of exposure to strike back against the Namidians could easily swing the battle into The Commander's favor.

Just as the GTF had snaked their way halfway across the field, miniaturized artillery shells came pouring down like raindrops. The stadium turf erupted into clouds of debris and the sky caught fire! The mind-melded mentalists telekinetically batted away dozens of the projectiles, rapidly, yet silently crunching the numbers to ensure that their captured shells would destroy the greatest number of The Commander's own. Still, the swarm kept coming; the fire concentrated on smaller and smaller zones as the GTF's location became obvious. And for all their brilliance, even the GTF's genius leaders could not focus on everything at once...

---

Regaining focus and indeed, consciousness, moments after having their hearts cease beating, one of the Namidian snipers gasped through his black balaclava. His spotter partner beside him fumbled with his range-finder telescope as he drew shallow, desperate breaths and tried to regain his target. They both lay prone on the scaffolding, keeping conversation to a minimum as they nodded to each other and tightly gripped their equipment as if to hold on to something "real" and "safe." While the sniper stared up at the cloud of missiles falling from the sky and flying off in every direction, the spotter shifted his position to click his walkie talkie on.

"All Sniper Teams, report."

The walkie talkie crackled as the voices of the other spotters checked in one by one.

"Sniper Team Two, we're alive."

"Sniper Team Three, reporting."

"Sniper Team Four, here."

Team One's spotter waited for a moment, listening for a sign of Team Five's response.

"Team Five, what's your status? Over." The spotter called out, quickly becoming afraid with the silence. He turned his range-finder over to where Team Five was positioned, hoping to find them awakening from near-death like they had moments ago. Instead, he was surprised to find a lone rifle with its trigger-man and spotter missing. Before he could do anything about it, he spotted Frank Jackson amidst the cloud of smoke. Though he couldn't hear The Commander's voice, it was obvious the battle had already begun! The spotter gave a nod to his partner and the duo began firing shots at the enemy Gifted down below.

---

Back on the ground, Black Magic was extremely busy watching the Frank-who-was-not-there and defending the preoccupied squad from the twin fire teams on the right and left flank single-handedly. He wildly swung his detached cape around his head like a net, catching bullets out of the air and making them disappear. Brian's doubles were still scampering across the field towards and away from the fire teams, doing their level best to confuse the scene, but they began to fade just as Peter's smoke began to dissipate. Brian switched off all his copies simultaneously to focus on deflecting the fireballs now exploding just above their heads. Luckily, "Frank" was still fighting with gusto, roaring as he raced toward The Commander and firing more wildly than his real counterpart would as snipers and shells smashed his holographic, yet eerily regenerating body into paste. Just then, one of Huxley's knives on a collision course with Gwen's neck was knocked away by a whip of Magic's twirled cape. But in saving one life, Peter let his guard down for a fateful, solitary moment...

Brian felt a sizzling pain in his gut, sniper fire had impacted his ribs. Though his armor stopped the round from piercing him, it wasn't made to absorb all the shock.  He momentarily dropped his concentration and collapsed to his knee in pain. In desperation, the telepath temporarily took full control of Brian's mind. Pulling his strings as though she were a puppeteer, she had him recklessly toss artillery shells left, right, anywhere away from them!

The Commander snapped and pointed at the now-visible GTF. Several lines of soldiers marched on to the field and took aim at Gwen, attempting to overwhelm her with numbers and keep her from taking them out one by one, as they suspected she might be able to do. Loosening her control of Brian as he regained his concentration, she began to warp their senses of up and down, using her last bit of Brian's power to blast one down. Suddenly they were on her, too many to individually repulse, she screamed at them as she released a wave of her own telekinetic force, sending them reeling.

"NOOOOO!"

The silenced rifle of one of the snipers up on the stadium's upper scaffolding snapped off a Gift-Stopper 45mm round at Black Magic. The magician would've taken the bullet in the ribs, but the GTF's resident speedster came in for a return haul and slapped it out of the air! With a >ZAT!< and a sizzling sound, a jolt of lightning emanated from the round and flew through the speed demon. Her body suddenly went limp and she slid into the left flank of The Commander's ground-level men. At that speed, neither she nor the men had any idea what was coming. She crashed into them at highway speeds and half the group collapsed. Meanwhile, a brave, yet foolish soldier tackled "Frank" into a shell's explosion before being literally blown to pieces!

Brian barely had time to swear under his breath as he held the line. A JOHNNY-5 window opened on his HUD.

"Boss, I've got a secondary network nearby, highly encrypted stuff. I'm attempting to crack it, just because I'm curious, seems like .gov though..."

Brian's eyes squinted. Though he wouldn't dare let his focus break again, a spark of curiosity lit up his subconscious.

"Thanks JOHHNNY, stay on it. I'll be AFK for a few."

---

Julia watched through the monitor as Seven made his way through the run-down hallways of the stadium. His ocular implants and earpiece allowed Julia to see and hear everything he did, though at times she wished she couldn't. The dozen or so technicians in the control room sat at their respective desks, monitoring their computers and screens. Suddenly, the bespectacled tech that sat near her started murmuring and typing hastily.

"Oh, fuck."

Julia looked over to his monitor to see multiple error messages popping up, their orange letters and hazard signs dominating the screen.

"Oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck," he repeated, his pudgy fingers slamming keys rapidly.

"What's going on?" Julia asked, leaning over in her seat.

"We're being hacked, somebody's trying to gain access to our network." The tech looks puzzled, fixing his glasses as he peers at the screen. "I mean, I think it's a somebody. Whoever this is, they're a fuckin' wizard."

"Don't be ridiculous, their wizard is currently in the middle of combat."

Both Julia and the tech turned to face their boss, the head of the entire VEGA department; Director Warren Howard. The man was tall and handsome, despite nearing his mid-fifties. His grey hair was cut short and stylish and his beard was grown out to resemble a mountain man. Warren wore an expensive white suit and let a black cane dangle from his hand. He gave the two a warm smile, his icy blue eyes piercing straight through them. Warren pointed toward the monitor with his cane and gave the tech a look.

"You gonna take care of that? Would be a damn shame if our tidy little operation was ruined because you couldn't keep your eyes off me."

The tech seemed flustered and moved back to his computer, desperately trying to counteract the hack. The entire control room flew into an organized panic, all trying to aid the man's attempts to shut the hacker out. Julia and Warren remained still among the chaos, simply looking at each other. Warren gave her a grin.

"Oh, not you too sugar. We all have jobs to do, and I'd say yours is rather important. I'm just here to cheer on the troops, as it were."

Julia glared at Warren before turning in her chair to face her monitor. If there was one person she hated in this world, it was him. She had diagnosed him with narcissistic personality disorder the day she met him; right now, he was doing everything in his power to prove that diagnosis. On the monitor, Seven was currently ripping the arm off of a poor soldier, and Julia was getting to experience it all in first person. From behind her, she could hear Warren chuckle over her headset.

"God damn! That never gets old."

---

The sniper pulled the trigger, worked the bolt, and repeated. The spotter beside him was calling out potential targets and their ranges, the perfect machine for long-ranged murder. They were so caught up in their bombardment that they didn't notice a figure creeping up behind them.

Finally, as the sniper reloaded his rifle, the pair could hear the crunching of footsteps behind them. The sniper turned his head, the spotter jumping to his feet and drawing his assault rifle to the figure. The spotter was about to tell the person to freeze, but stopped when he saw that it was Sniper Team Two's sharpshooter. The man was holding his side, blood seeping from his body armor. The spotter ran to him and steadied Sniper Two.

"Soldier! Are you alright?! What happened?"

Sniper Two coughed and wrapped his arm around the spotter, struggling to stand.

"More GTF operatives, ones we didn't know about... They killed the others. We're done here."

"What? We never got an order to retreat."

Suddenly, Sniper two shoved his fingers into the spotter's mouth, closing them around his bottom teeth in a vice grip. The spotter gagged, grasping at Sniper Two with a confused glare.

"W-w-w-e'ree do-o-ne h-ee-re-e"

Sniper Two repeated himself, a gurgling distortion of the man's voice. Without hesitating, Sniper Two ripped the spotter's jaw from his skull and dashed it to the ground. Sniper Two threw the spotter from the scaffolding, his body plunging to the ground without a sound. Sniper One looked on with horror, but quickly snapped out of it, drew his sidearm, and fired three shots into Sniper Two.

The man lurched as the bullets hit him in the chest. Sniper Two began convulsing inhumanly, the bullets popping from his flesh onto the floor with a wet clink-clink-clink. Sniper One began backing up as Sniper Two continued his advance, his eyes dead and devoid of any feeling.

"S-stand down soldier! Back up!" Sniper One commanded, his heart sinking as he reached the edge of the scaffolding. Sniper Two walked until he was face-to-face with the cowering sharpshooter. Sniper Two's face began to split apart, the flesh peeling and folding outward. Sniper One was frozen in fear, what was this thing?

"B-back Upp!

With that, "Sniper Two" punched Sniper One square in the face, the force sending his head back with a nasty crack. Before his body could fall to the ground, Sniper Two kicked it from the scaffolding. After the deed was done, the rest of his body began to peel and fold from the center, his bones cracking and muscles swelling until Sniper Two was no more. Seven stood there now, looking out toward the battle on the ground. He didn't waste any time, dropping from the scaffolding to make his final approach to his target.

---

With the Namidian Wave crashing down upon them, the connection between Gwen, Brian, and suddenly, Black Magic, deepened. Their joining seemed like an eternity, but there was really only an instant until their minds were compressed together into diamond. Strangely, Brian felt reluctance on Gwen's part to form such an unusually strong gestalt. Nevertheless they were now one, a single unit. Each man, in turn, accepting the invitation Gwen provided. Their fusion comprised of Gwen's telekinetic ability and telepathic coordination, Black Magic's sleight of hand and teleportation, and finally, Brian's hyper-analysis and visionary leadership. Of course, with such superlative psionic connection, how could he tell where he began and where Black Magic or Brighteyes ended? It made no difference at this second, they responded with one voice.

"Surrender. NOW."

The Frank Jackson doppelganger was suddenly back in sight; he seemed to buzz through the rubble and amazingly, shoot guns out of the Namidians' hands! Was that Gwen's telepathic trick? No, Peter would've noticed that!

Brian had already been highlighting targets, firing-arcs, and trajectories for the general sharing among his comrades, buying everyone precious seconds to dodge the immediately incoming BLAM, BLAM, BLAM of sub-machine gun fire. Gwen began to use Meta's lesser gift with precision born of Brian's experience, combining their telekinetic powers to blanket The Commander's troops in a wide ray of crisscrossing bullets. But while he wordlessly signaled orders from the bleachers, several of the mastermind's soldiers expertly dashed and dodged between many of the bullets. And so, the Namidian gunfire kept on barreling down upon the GTF. They couldn't keep up this defense, which was where Black Magic came in. Pulling an almost literal ace-in-the-hole from his sleeve, the magician hurled a card at The Commander's battered face. Brett easily dodged the incoming missile, only to find himself and the seat he stood upon in the middle of the battlefield!

The Commander hissed out three mangled, tortured words through his broken jaw as he assessed the new scenario. "Hu-x-ley, Ivan!"

The GTF trio summoned their combined willpower to mow down loose, lingering enemies. When they began their charge, Huxley leapt into battle to retrieve his fearless leader. In the midst of his enemies, Commander tossed a stun grenade toward Huxley, where he knew they'd be looking. But Ghost Frank caught it with a powerful lay-up and pitched it like a baseball back toward "home base."

Frank-who-was-not-there smirked as he loomed over The Commander, who immediately attempted to blow the immutable man's face off with his bloody desert eagle loaded with a Gift-Stopper round. The illusion Frank instantly disappeared and The Commander let out a knowing nod.

Suddenly, the holographic Frank seemed to appear near Meta as well as Black Magic, simultaneously. His body seemed all-a-blur as she shifted back and forth at high speed. It was a new and unique glitch, surprising even the projection's creator! He smiled ruthlessly. Gwen's eyes lit up with cold fear and she threw herself bodily at Frank as the simulacrum reached for Meta. The young red haired woman was suddenly impaled on Frank-turned-Ivan's reality warping arm as he let his simplistic, illusory disguise drop away. He had phased up to his wrist into the young woman's chest. A sickening THUMP sound could be heard as he solidified there. Pain radiated throughout the hive-mind.

The Frank near Magic suddenly shifted into Ivan following suit, letting his bodily manipulation drop away. Gwen's face hit the dirty ground hard. She was bleeding out horrendously, blood seemed to gush from the wound and pool around her face. Ivan grabbed The Commander and warped back to the field's entrance hallway, his dual selves were mere creations of his extreme speed and spacial manipulation.

Dread silence began descending on the scene as Gwen's already pale face began to turn ashen. Both Black Magic and Brian could feel her slipping away from their weakening link. As a siren song, they felt a quick and fast burst of mental energy, slipping into their stream of consciousness. Brian and Black Magic yelled at the same time.

"NO!"

Even as he cried out, Gwen's vicious thoughts shook their way into Brian's brain.

"Ivan," Commander spat out shakily as he picked himself up, "Men - equipment - not this." Brett turned towards the now crippled, bleeding GTF. "Not this."

"You don't live, you don't pay. Even you must understand the occasional necessity of drastic action. " The Commander balled his fist at his disobedient charge, but his mind vetoed his emotional reaction. Now was not the time for betrayal, even of one who had already proven disloyal.

Huxley used the surprise opportunity to catch the magician off-guard. Emerging from behind Magic's seat, The Commander's lieutenant thrust one of his signature knives up to Black Magic's throat.

"I've got you now, Magic-man," he said into Black Magic's ear. Instantly, Black Magic's cloak collapsed in Huxley's grasp! BM's body became immaterial, only to reappear behind the killer. Suddenly, the two were sparring. Black Magic used his telescoping baton and knife edge cards to inflict small and painful cuts and blunt force strikes while Huxley leveraged the power of his blade talents, parrying and lunging at the magic user's hurling cards and batons. Finally, the merc flipped a knife into the air as Magic shot his blade edged cards through the space where the surly ex-black ops soldier's hands had been a millisecond prior. But Huxley's quicker hand shot forward again like a launched piston and hit the flipped blade out of the air. Black Magic took the dagger to the shoulder.

Brian's stare shifted back and forth between the horrific sights of Huxley standing over Black Magic, Gwen drowning in her own blood, and a stirring Vandal getting pinned to the ground by some thugs with assault rifles. At long last and with tears flooding his enraged eyes, the GTF leader stood and raised his hands in surrender. Brian steeled his face against emotion, separated his feelings from himself and focused. All was quiet now; he needed to concentrate.

Meta appeared behind Ivan as he phased into sight a few paces behind the madman. The real Meta, that is, not the holographic ghost standing near Black Magic. His chameleon suit shed its color bending field as he pushed a fallen soldier's blade deep into the reality manipulating assassin's back. He grabbed the Russian around the neck and leveraged the knife deeper as the man solidified around the blade. Ivan chuckled as he choked on air, beginning to teleport away. But the distracting blade gave way to Meta's true weapon, a hypodermic needle that knocked that cockiness right out of that killer!

The inter-dimensional professional stumbled to the ground before Brian let him go. He would be asleep in seconds if the stab wound didn't kill him. Brett's gun was already leveled at Meta. Neither hesitated. He stood before The Commander and took a Gift-stopper to the clavicle. While the treacherous device electrified him and scrambled his equipment, he let loose with Gwen's last conscious gift! He unleashed a single, twisted telekinetic bolt at The Commander that slammed the Namidian's pistol upward just before he pulled the trigger.

Both men hit the ground at roughly the same time. Both of them were unconscious.

Black Magic was under Huxley's boot. As soon as he had looked over to see what was happening with The Commander, Peter managed to leverage said boot into a twist that spun and flipped his assailant onto his stomach. He then latched onto Huxley's leg and rolled over the man's back. Using the kinetics of his spin, Magic thumped the back of the ex-soldier's skull into the ground. He was out. With a flourish, the magician continued the spin onto his feet and looked upon the scene. A few men were still struggling but most were retreating, except for the snipers.

Where were they?

---

As if to answer Magic, a young figure appeared carrying several bodies on their shoulders. He approached cautiously and slowly. Peter watched as he walked over to Brian and checked his pulse. The illusionist produced a sock and duct tape in each hand as if performing for an audience. He then stuffed the sock into the Commander's mouth and taped his mouth shut.

Finally, the new person drew a number seven in the air as he dumped sniper bodies a few meters away from Peter. Sensing that this was some poor soul from Boura and not wanting a fight after the nightmare he'd lived through, Black Magic made no hostile move. He simply nodded in respect and provided a thumbs up.

"These guys looked like they were going to kill you all," Seven said in the disguise of a young man. "Do you need any more help?"

Peter nodded, "Yeah, I could use some help getting my friends out of here."

The young man nodded and and surveyed the fallen, "Which ones?"

JOHNNY-5 messaged Black Magic.

~Evac incoming. Heading to the rendezvous landing site. Nurse Jackie on-board...~

Black Magic, staring down at the promising young woman still clinging to life. Hopefully this "nurse" could save her, but he just didn't know.

"Her, him, and him for sure," he said, pointing at The Commander. "And certainly Vandal; Frank's gonna kill me if she's left behind," Peter began to chuckle, mostly to himself, to cool himself down from the combat high. He'd have looked insane to anyone, he knew, but it helped. And right now, that's all he could ask for.

Seven knelt next to the GTF creator and withdrew a small needle from a belt holster. He pierced the unconscious Brian at an opening on his suit to withdraw a thimble full of blood in a single neat and smooth motion. He then picked up the three bodies and followed Peter.

Ahead, he saw the skid mark that lead to Vandal's still unconscious body.

"My boy, let's get these folks into the ER, shall we? Care to go on a trip?"

Seven waved the magician away.

"Thanks, but no. I don't like doctors."

Peter tipped his hat towards the young man and disappeared with his four patients, heading towards the rendezvous a mile away, where there would theoretically be a bunch of formerly hostage physicists as well...
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:43, Wed 04 Oct 2017.

Black Magic used he teleporting powers to close the gap between where he stood with his fallen comrades, and where the evac transport would await them. Adrenaline had helped the Magician ignore the pain of his stab wound, push its existence out of his mind as he was of those present the only one still conscious and mobile. This however did not eliminate or even dull the fact that he too bore an injury, and by the time he saw the much anticipated site of the craft landing before him the impromptu opening in his shoulder had made itself well known. Thankfully he had thought to level the blade where it rested and limit the movement of the effected arm, since to remove the knife or use the limb normally could have resulted to more rapid blood loss or added damage.

When the transport landing ramp was fully down, Peter saw a woman he was unfamiliar with rushing toward him. He pointed out the badly injured scientist with the oversized hole in her chest, and in proper triage fashion the medical professional took her about first with Black Magic's help. After the nurse tended to her, Meta and Vandal were brought onboard as well and examined.

The first thing Black Magic did when he was free from his patient-carrying duties was sit himself in the pilot's seat, and voice activate the auto-pilot.

"Return to GTF Headquarters."

"Error, intruder alert identified at given location. Bioscan reveals injured passengers, safety protocol prevents landing at any zones classified as possibly hostile. Provide another destination.""

Peter sighed and slumped into his chair; usually he was nonstop energy as Black Magic, yet in this moment there was no one to see him and he really did not feel up to fighting with a computer. He knew a medical facility was needed, and if anyone came after The Commander whom was currently tied tightly to a seat with colorful scarves the team would need backup. Therefore, he could think of only one place that met with that criteria.

"Toronto, Canada."

The transport took to the air, as the nurse came to tend to his shoulder and give the acting team leader an update on the others.

"Vandal and Meta were just knocked out as far as I could tell, vitals are stable and they should come out of it on their own. As for my last patient, I was honestly expecting her not to be alive yet she surprised me. I packed and wrapped her wound to prevent more blood loss, and currently I am transfusing blood to keep her alive. It is only a stop gap measure though, she is going to need surgery and plenty of it. When will we be arriving in Seattle?"

Peter shook his head, hiding a wince of pain from the shoulder fussing about being patched up.

<purple>"I fear we are not bound for there, some failsafe or another. Besides if any enemies that delivered these injuries to us or wish their friend back, that is the first place they would look. We are bound for Canada, Toronto to be exact. A large, prosperous city should have what we require medically, they have no thought yea nor nea to Gifted, and they will most assuredly welcome Brian's millions to pay for whatever we require."

With a nod of understanding the nurse finished stitching Peter's shoulder and left, going into the back to monitor her other charges and try to keep one of them alive until better help could be found. Black Magic watched her leave, then waved a hand over the damaged and bloodied areas of his costume having them become like new.

Looking out the wind visor, Peter looked upon the sun and wondered idly how many more time she might see it before his final curtain as the craft sped on its way.

Black Magic sat in the pilot's chair cradling his injured and now repaired arm, when he realized that he had yet to contact the very help they were bound to Canada to meet. Fiddling with the communications system on the transport, Peter attempted a message;

"Jackson, this is Black Magic. The meeting dissolved rapidly into violence, both Meta and Vandal are currently unconscious yet stable. The last member of our group did not fair as well I fear, they barely cling to life despite the best effort of a skilled nurse Meta had on standby it seems. We are inbound for Toronto, once we get there I shall be directing the craft to the best hospital available. There might be possible retaliation for our actions, for which we might well need your help. In the event that does not happen, we still have a special package I believe you should take possession of. Black Magic out."

Peter would have awaited a response, yet it seemed the excitement of before coupled with his would treated though it was had combined to be quite a drain on his energy. He hoped his missive found the correct person, in the event it had not he had declined to use naught but Gifted names. If Frank was waiting for them all well and good; if not, the magic man would try again after he had rested.

To: Toronto