Info: Boura was once a thriving, beautiful resort city/tourist trap located deep in the woodlands of Pennsylvania. Twelve years ago, however, two Gifted individuals whose only goal in life seemed to be to kill each other fought a cataclysmic battle that annihilated the entire metropolitan area. Now, the woodlands have begun reclaiming the city; flowers burst through concrete sidewalks, trees grow right up to the walls of office buildings, and alleys are filled with wandering vermin. And speaking of vermin, it is said that a huge number of gangs and supervillains use the abandoned city as a safe place where they can hide out and conduct illicit business.

Be weary when you enter Boura, traveler. The city hides more than just the remnants of the innocents who once lived there.

♫ War, Huh! Yeah! ♫
♫ What is it good for? ♫
The music player of the Gurkha F5 blared Edwin Starr out merrily, normally the thick walls of the armoured car would be completely soundproof but the open driverside door was enough to let the music add to the din of the men arguing outside the vehicle. Boura seemed abandoned at an initial glance but just below the surface someone with the right connections could unearth a wealth of informants, thugs, hitmen, hackers and dealers who would gladly do business with other disreputable characters for the right price; one such transaction was currently taking place and although the street appeared empty the music helped shield whatever was being said from prying ears.

The arguing group was divided into two parties; the one that had driven to the secluded site and the one's who had waited there for them.
The fist group looked like a squad of three ultramodern soldiers lead by a man wearing an older styled greatcoat, they all carried weapons but for the moment they were pointed safely at the ground, an armoured briefcase sat on the ground by their leaders foot and he was rifling through a ream of printed papers whilst speaking tersely to the leader of the other group.
The second group was far less regimented and were natives to the abandoned city, wearing civilian styled clothes and carrying an assortment of submachine guns and pistols they 6 men and women resembled a gang of hired goons more than anything else. The most distinctive of them carried no weapons and had a pasty pudgy look that suggested he spent too many afternoons sat behind a computer.

♫ It's an enemy to all mankind. ♫
♫ The point of war blows my mind. ♫

The man with the greatcoat and commanders cap spoke a dew decibels louder and his voice carried far enough to be heard.
"I'm not paying you for incomplete documents, Pierre." he snarled as he slapped the back of his hand across the reams of paper held in the other.
"You said you could get me records of the supplies coming and going from Letterkenny Army Depot over the next six months, but there's hardly more than a few weeks worth of data here!"

"Someone traced my network while I was downloading your intel and I had to cut the connection before the download finished." the hacker retorted, angrily.
"You know that this line of work has risks, so just be glad that you got SOMETHING, but I still need to be compensated! You can get the five weeks of information I salvaged at the full price we agreed on earlier."
A malicious smirk etched over the cyber-criminals face.
"-and since you've already thumbed through the papers and memorised their contents you know that I can't let you just walk away. I wholeheartedly recommended you accept my generous offer, Mister Gondry. Take it or leave it."
The hired muscle standing behind 'Pierre' laughed humourlessly and with ill intent. There were a few threatening clicks as a few of the more volatile ones cocked or disengaged the safety on their weapons.

♫ War, it ain't nothing but a heartbreaker. ♫
♫ War, it's got one friend. That's the undertaker. ♫

The greatcoated man known as 'The Commander' looked troubled for a few moments as he weighed up his options, there was a tense moment of uncertainty before he finally spoke again.
"...in that case, we'll take it. Gun them down."
The last part of that sentence was directed over his shoulder at his own men, who instantly and obediently raised their weapons to fire automatic gunfire into the hacker and his underlings.
"Drop your weapon." Commander ordered the nearest of the thugs, in a tone that was unnaturally authoritative and brooked no resistance. It also sounded somewhat... off.
"Drop your weapon, Drop your weapon, Drop your weapon."
The Commanders inhuman gift took effect and several members of the opposing group disarmed themselves with unthinking instinct, which afforded the smaller but better armed group of men enough time to bring their own weapons to bear. A devastating hail of three fully automatic rifles spraying rubber bullets into the crowd of confused gangsters sent them all to the ground in agony or into instant unconsciousness.

With the threat taken care of The Commanders own troops relived their victims of their weapons and stood back into their previous positions as though nothing had happened.
The Commander himself popped the clasps on his armoured briefcase and took out a single roll of banknotes from the dozens stored inside and threw it down next to the hackers unconscious form.
"There's ten percent -'pleasure doing business with you."
He couldn't help but let a bit of sneer find it's way into his voice.

He returned to the armoured car and took a back seat. His troops filed in behind him and before the door slammed shut and hid him from view he could be seen examining the 'purchased' information intently.

♫ War, Huh! Good god y'all! ♫
♫ What is it good for? ♫
♫ Stand up and shout it! ♫
♫ Nothi-
The door to the Gurkha F5 slammed shut and the street was suddenly silent, besides the moaning of the injured Boura goons and the fading sound of the cars engine as it manuvered away.

EDIT: The Commander has left the area.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:26, Wed 20 May 2015.

For the most part, the city of Boura looked like a bombed out wasteland but there were a few buildings here and there. Enough to excuse calling it a community, barely. In what was once considered oldtown Boura, a nationally recognized historical site, one building stood a majestic three stories high. The sign over the boarded up glass window front declared it had once been a Hank's Hardware store. Hasty spray painted neon green letters now declared it Boura Savings and Loan. The boarded up windows had sheets of metal behind them instead of glass and the door itself was solid metal and secured. The whole building had been redesigned inside and out as a fortress.

A few hours later, a pudgy Pierre limped up to the door and knocked loudly. He was looking anything but confident. A slit in the door opened and eyes peered out before several loud clanks were heard and the door opened. A slim man in a black duster stepped out and patted the hacker down before letting him in. A large, burly man with a straw blonde crew cut looked up and down the street then closed the door.

Inside, Pierre stood nervously and fidgeted as he waited before the man in black lead him up the stairs to a door labeled "Mr. Purple." Pierre was ushered inside and the man in black stayed outside. The room was bare, spartan, except for a large, oaken desk. Behind it, a man with a purple, four-piece suit and acid green hair stared out from behind green tinted sunglasses at Pierre, "Please, please, Pierre, do not tell em you are late with our payment. You asked for a state-of-the-art system, which we got for you. I remember you sitting right there and signing the paperwork. Then you came to us and asked for security codes for a very sensitive system at a U.S. army depot. Those were not cheap but you assured us that you could pay..."

Pierre hemmed and hawed then scratched the back of his head and looked guilty, "Well, we got doublecrossed an..."

"THAT, sir, is not our problem. You took the resources and are expected to pay up... you WILL pay up..." Pierre swallowed and looked about to shit himself. The man in the suit sighed and motioned to the chair opposite him, a simpel black roller, then took out a Sat Phone and hit the only button on it. PIerre got a real scared look on his face.

---

Somewhere in Munich's Sievold Brewery District a phone rang and a man took one out of a rack of two dozen and answered. The phones represented all of his lieutenants who had direct access to him, "Mr. Purple?" He listened in silence for some time and then spoke a few, short sentences. He then took another phone from the rack and pressed the single button in the center. He uttered a code phrase and listened to some messages before uttering yet another phrase, "Update log #23: Specialist voted aye; assets assigned. Recommend, leak must be sealed."

---

Mr. Purple set the phone down and leaned forward, "Good news, Pierre, you are being granted an extension on an alternate payment plan. Mr. Cash will have a file for you, with a job, complete it and this month's payment is forgiven. Fail and we will be looking you up... shortly."

Pierre swallowed, nodded, the scurried out when dismissed. The man outside handed him a file with the dossier of one Clinton Rice. It had mostly public information on the reporter and the job was to get all the non-public information and to intercept all cyber communications made by the man. Pierre was also to prep a package that would torpedo the man's credentials, credibility, and even his very existence.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:08, Thu 07 May 2015.

Route 99. 150km~ from Letterkenny and 200km~ from the outskirts of Boura.

Eighteen heavy duty wheels tore down route 99 an incredible speed, and the large flatbed trailer that they were attached to was followed shortly by a number of similar transports, each of which in turn was flanked by a satellite of escort vehicles that included State Trooper squad cars and military Armoured Personnel Carriers. Both lanes of the quiet Penysilvanian road had been cordoned off to make room for the monstrous convoy, and although the numerous small towns that clung to the road had grown accustomed to the nearby army depots business interrupting their otherwise tranquil lifestyles a number of onlookers would remark that something seemed off about this delivery; for one thing it was far larger than any that had come before it, and for another it was travelling far faster and more recklessly than was normal... almost as though the drivers were expecting trouble and wanted to spend as little time exposed on the road as possible.

As the Namidian wave had begun to build momentum the United States found themselves facing the uncomfortable prospect of deploying it's army within it's own borders. The loss of many major cities and an asymmetric war against various criminal organizations had spurred the Department of Homeland Security into activating a number of their dormant military installations, and Letterkenny Army Depot had found itself shifting billions of dollars in taxpayed military equipment to keep even with demand. Although none of the drivers would be foolhardy enough to drive directly through Boura the abandoned roads that the cities destruction had left veining the Pennsylvanian wilderness had proven their worth as supply routes and it was commonly believed that if the military's armoured columns kept a respectable distance from the decayed city that it's unsavoury inhabitants would leave them alone.
Today there was a complication.
A routine system authentication had revealed that someone had breached the Quartermasters security and had downloaded a log of exports leaving the base over the coming weeks. At this point the implications of this security lapse was unclear but it was suspected that a raid on one of the numerous supply runs was imminent. Without any time to reschedule or reroute their deliveries the chief-of-staff had decided to combine the various vehicles leaving the base over the week into a single well defended column. He reasoned that their combined escorts would be able to overcome anything that simple thieves could bring to bear.

---

As the column rounded a broad sweeping corner their road opened from dense forest into a long open straight of farmland, dense shrubs flanked either side of the road and the section was long enough to leave the entire column exposed on both fronts. The furthest end of the lane was blocked by a single armoured car that had parked defiantly in the middle of both lanes, standing ontop of the repainted military vehicle was a man wearing a distinctively antiquated military uniform and held a megaphone in his off hand-
The spotters at the convoys vanguard immediately recognised 'The Commanders' profile, over the last three years his self declared war on the rest of the world had been fuelled by countless heist and the military escort had already been warned that it was exceptionally likely that he'd attempt to raid another military target within the month. Sensing danger the transport trucks and their escorts instinctively inched their vehicles close together and increased their speed, one of the State Policemen in his squad car sent off a distress message:
"Operator, this is convoy Lima Kilo Five. We've been waylaid. Send a response team; It's The Commander, again. No estimate on his forces yet."
"Received." The calm voice on the other end of the radio replied. "...Continue driving if possible. Response units will be in range within forty five minutes. We'll get him this time."
The Commander had chosen this ambush point for a variety of reasons, but was particularly attracted by the fact that at this distance he would have a few precious minutes to act before the full force of the United States Military and Law Enforcement had their chance to counter-attack. He'd agonized over his strategy for days and had concluded that a lightening quick ambush followed by a mass aerial getaway would give him the best trade-off between profit, risk and reliability.

With no option to turn around the motorised formation was forced to redouble their speed and hope that they'd be able to blast past whatever gauntlet that Brett had prepared for them, with trained precision two Military Police Humvees broke from the sides of the column and gunned their engines to intercept the single intruding vehicle before the rogue militant could fulfil whatever plan he'd prepared, both Humvees popped their rooftop canopies and trained their mounted Browning machine guns on the Namidian villain.
A sudden series of violent bursts erupted down the entire length of road as The Commander released the first of his countermeasures. Buckshot filled IED'S placed flush along each side of the road peppered the underside of the line of vehicles with enough force to blow out every tire in the convoy; military grade run-flat tires prevented the attack from instantly crippling their advance but the entire formation faltered as it struggled to stay straight on the road.
As The Commander saw the gunners in the opposing Humvees aiming their weapons at his own car he pointed his megaphone to one of the offending vehicles and snapped out a short but efficient order: "STEER RIGHT, SHARPLY."
As he'd planned one of the drivers bent under his will and threw his vehicle into a spinning crash with it's twin, both vehicles crunched to an instant stop and their occupants were fiercely shaken as the totalled cars finally came to rest. Moments later the slowed convoy caught up to them and their organised defensive formation collapsed into utter chaos as their damaged wheels failed to turn past the new obstacles. Cars shunted into each other like a multi-million dollar newtons cradle and the few drivers who'd managed to keep their wits once the disaster had crunced to a halt found themselves trapped by their confused comrades trapped to either side of them.
"Sumbit, and you will not be harmed. Resist, and I cannot guarantee your fate." Commander barked out through his megaphone, he knew already that his enemy wouldn't just roll over and surrender because he'd asked, but he feigned mercy all the same- since siding with 'the bad guys' he'd found himself monologuing more than was perhaps healthy.
Soldiers poured out of the suddenly stationary APC's and attempted to secure a perimeter around their cargo or to return fire at The Commander, but found themselves pinned down without warning by an intense hail of rubber-bullets that to erupted from both hedgerows flanking the road simultanously, seconds later the bullets were followed by dozens of fizzing grenades that flushed the defenders from their cover with irritant teargas.

Commander had planned the assault down to the last meticulous detail, and had run his men through seemingly endless wargames until he was sure that he could pull of his raid flawlessly. In a few moments the defenders would pull on gasmasks or retreat back into their vehicles, and his men would respond by shooting out the armoured glass of each vehicle with live ammunition and by throwing concussion grenades at anyone who was still in a position to fight back, facing fire from several sides and still struggling with disorientation from the crash his men would have no difficulty rushing in to stamp out any pockets of resistance and imprison the rest of the convoy with zip-ties. The tactic was conventional in it's overall form but unique in that care had been taken to ensure it was performed with no loss of life whatsoever, despite the protests of his lieutenants The Commander had been absolutely adamant that the heist would only proceed if a 'clean' solution could be found.
Once the vehicles were secure The Commander had planned to seize the flatbeds cargo for himself; if the information that Pierre had handed to him a few days ago was still accurate this weeks shipment mainly contained helicopters, unmanned drones, and several tank-like heavy combat vehicles that Brett knew had begun to see service across several police forces such as the NYPD. On the Namidian Black Market any of those items would fetch a handsome price, but Commander intended to keep the majority for his own use. He could already hear the whirr of distant helicopter blades on the horizon and within minutes he expected the air above his ambush to be thick with mercenary King Stallion transport helicopters- his men would secure the site, remove the coverings from the flatbeds, and mount their contents onto transport winches the pilots could use to whisk his spoils away to the relative safety of Boura.

---

The battle played out exactly as his simulations had predicted; a few enterprising soldiers who'd managed to avoid the worst of the chemical gas rushed to turn one of their APC'S mounted turrets against their unseen enemy and were promptly thrashed unconscious as a barrage of nonlethal rounds found their mark, some of The Commanders men detached themselves from their cover and moved in to begin arresting their foes before moving onto the next phase of their operation.
Commander rapped his knuckles against the hull of his car and the driver obediently began to roll the vehicle forward. As it cruised closer Commander could make out firsthand details of the firefight; from where he stood he could see a Pensivania State Trooper stagger out of his Police Interceptor with his hand clutched over his mouth- the man had held his breath just before the first wave of grenades had begun to take effect and it'd take a moment longer before his vision would blur over and force him into dry heaves- as Commander watched he drew his pistol and levelled it at head of one of Commanders own men who'd advanced from behind his cover a moment too soon and left himself exposed.
Commander vaulted from the chassis of his cruising car and closed the distance to the battlefront within a few rushed moments and several long strides, the last thing that the policeman saw before Brett's steelcapped boot bludgeoned him into his temple was the supervillan rolling over his squadcars bonnet and springing from his feet directly into a savage kick.
"I am TRYING to be civil about this!" He snarled to the unconscious body. "This would be easier for everyone if you'd just cooperate a little!"
He craned his neck around to ensure that there weren't any more obvious threats before he pulled a handheld transceiver out from his pocket and sent a broad message to his entire strike force:
"We're doing well, if we push our schedule forward we might even be able to airlift some of the ground vehicles out." he cast another suspicious glance around "In fact, it's almost going too well. Keep an eye open and check every car; the last thing I need is to find that they've brought a super."

OOC: If anyone has timescale conflicts feel free to message me or write your own cannon, from my perspective a small timeskip fit's the story better than a direct jump. -besides, I think it gives the heroes time to heal and the villains more time to plot.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:51, Tue 02 June 2015.

Just because no one would dare come through the front door, did not mean you could leave it open and unwatched. So, even though Dieter assumed that I-90 was not the route the convoy would take to ITSDA HQ, he watched it anyway. Some smart tactician might just risk it for the speed and efficiency of travel and hope he wasn't looking there, but he was and he knew they were using the state highway system that paralleled I-90 instead. Which meant they were trying to hide but were keeping the interstate an option for an emergency.

Dieter had calculated what resources he could for use in the situation and they were slow. With Las Vegas being too far away and Gaultown being entangled in a fight, only his resources in Boura were in the offing. He made a note toe increase presence in North America, perhaps something in Canada, even as he sent orders from his seat in the Caribbean. Within moments of their departure from Chicago, several teams were en route to intercept the convoy. He had also reached out to some contacts about aiding in the jail-break. He wanted the favor and good-will this move might earn him with the two Namidians imprisoned as well as their boss.

The confrontation was planned to occur even as the convoy neared the desolation that was Boura. They were going wide around the notorious den on iniquity, but they were close enough.

Mr. Green sat in the gunner's chair of an M113 APC as it rolled along an access road. The latest intel chattered across his comms and he grinned as he signaled to Squad Samus. The target was on the predicted route and closing. He stood and popped the hatch on the vehicle to man the .50 caliber machine gun even as the APC revved up to full speed and made for intercept course.

On the other side of the Highway, a black van burst from a side road even as Jane's squad of bikers were passing. The vehicle's wheels protested the abuse shrilly and the van wobbled a bit as it both corrected to the violent entry into the situation and sped up incredibly. It almost seemed like the van should have crashed miserably the stunt was so ludicrous. Inside, Mr. Black smiled even as he removed his hand from the van's inner wall. Outside, the van went from black to white even as the side panel opened and a man dressed in a black duster and wide-brimmed hat threw a pair on black bolts of energy at Jane and Phoenix's bikes respectively.

Even as the distraction was in the offing, the M113 APC burst from the other side and Mr. Green cackled loudly and fired the .50 caliber weapon directly at the Trailer's wheels. The distortion field was still in place though so the bullets missed, but not by as much as would have been expected. They peppered the side of the vehicle just above the wheels and the man grinned madly as he readjusted his aim and fired again. Inside the Apc, the Ghoul team was preparing to engage. They had their own SSW in the form of a M72 LAW deployed to their specialist.

Even as they engaged, the SA forces hoped they would be joined by allies in rescuing the two super-villains inside the trailer.

Five faceless figures lurked in the unlit cargo hold of a transit van. The Numbered Bretheren had been recalled from their operations in Chicago to answer an urgent summons- and as the rest of her squad stood in silence 'Brethren One' received her orders:

"The NamidianNet's on fire- a big hit's been placed on an ITSDA convoy. Two Namidian prisoners, a world leader and number of high priority bounties are on the field. Your mission is to link up with Schwartze Augen's ambush and support their rescue attempt."

The responding voice wasn't the one that Commander's soldier had been expecting, and her normally neutral voice was tinged with suspicion.
"Tudor. You're not authorized to pass me orders, where is The Commander?"

"Harmph! For the moment I've been promoted to acting Commander."
Even through the Bretheren's raido headsets it was impossible to miss the smugness in Tudors tone.
"The man himself took a plane to Gaultown to meet with Mister Sievold and left me in charge. He took a bottle of whiskey with him. Perhaps they intended to celebrate their success in Chicago?"

The suspicion in the Bretherns voice inched slowly closer to anger, and she became dangerously close to breaking her emotionless monotone.
"That doesn't sound like The Commander at all. Schmoozing and socializing isn't his battlefield."

"Don't be so sure!" Tudor rebuked "Less than an hour after he landed Commander deployed 'Leviathan' and started tracking a number of ITSDA vehicles. It's boiling over into a nice little war."

"Now that sounds more like The Commander."
Bretheren One's tone snapped back to it's monotone. Paradoxically the news that Commander was fighting a battle was less concerning than the chance he was shirking his duty.
"Where do you want us?"

---

The transport van pulled over onto the highways hard shoulder, slowed to a gentle crawl to let it's handful of cargo disembark, and then sped off again. The five camoflage-clad men and women that it left behind carried marksmen rifles and quickly moved into position- in favorable ground overlooking the highway that their peers in S.A had marked as their ambush point.

Several tense minutes passed, but Namidian intelligence proved as uncannily accurate as always; and the squad were treated to the sight of several ITSDA rolling past their position before being stopped dead by a barrage of obstructions and gunfire. As the first bullets were fired and each side began to plot their move the Acting Commander broke his radio silence with his S.A mission interpreters.

"Illinois-Six-NB engaging. Providing designated fire from the flank. Happy hunting, BlackEyes."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:18, Sat 14 Nov 2015.

Tarmac sped under Daniels feet as his 'cyle put Chicago's urban centre behind him. He'd started his day with a cross-border flight, and since he'd landed he'd hardly had a moment to let his thoughts catch up to his fists. It had been a long day, and even with Sherry's gift renewing his stamina he looked forward to getting some actual rest and letting his powers cool off; which he intended to do just as soon he'd escorted the president and the two ringleading Namidians into ITSDA custody.

His hopes were dashed, however, as a dark van burst into his peripheral vision and forced him to slam on his bikes brakes. He skilfully swung it's rear wheel forwards in a tyre-assisted stop, but even as his skid stopped him from crushing into the sudden obstacle a figure threw open the vans side door and threw a dark bolt of energy at him. With a combustible and very expensive bike jammed between his legs Phoenix wasn't able to dodge with one of his explosive hops, and at the same moment the blast hit him his bikes skidding front tyre caught on a rough patch of motorway and bust open- the attack didn't seem to hurt him directly, but the bad luck was suspiciously well timed, and more than enough to send him tumbling over his handlebars and across the ground.

With an acrobatic roll and recovery he found his feet and raised his fists, but barely had time to size up his opponent before a second crash took his attention; behind him a another vehicle, an armoured personnel carrier, stormed the road and opened fire with a heavy .50 cal.
Bullets tore up road along Phoenix's escort and several shrill hisses told him that the trucks wheels had been punctured. As the trail of bullets scythed down the side of the van to his crashsite Daniel instictivly dropped back to the ground, rolled under the prisoner vehicles wheel clearance, and stood to take cover on the half of the vehicle that wasn't being peppered with lead. He grit his jaw with frustration as he realized he was about to be caught in a crossfire, and that his days work was far from over. His hand shot to a button on the side of his mask as he chimed into the ITSDA's local com.

"Ambush, front and back!" He informed, pointlessly. His fellow agents were in the thick of it as well, after all.

He jerked a thumb over his chest piece and the armoured sections over his uniform sprung up into their 'flight' configuration. Red lines between his suits joints lit up as he internally started gathering power.

"Cheif, we gotta' game plan?!" He flexed his fingers, and his knuckles cracked. "-because if we don't, I'm going to go with my usual play!"
This message was last edited by the player at 09:49, Mon 16 Nov 2015.

Within moments of the the black van appearing and the APC firing on the trailer, it had come to a sudden and abrupt stop and everyone following it and on the sides of it had split up into small groups. June's squadmates, who had been lucky enough to avoid any mishaps, spun their bikes around and dashed back for the trailer. June herself was flung from her bike as it twisted underneath her body, but she landed on a large mattress and bounced right back to her feet. The mattress disappeared and she crouched under what now appeared to be a concrete barricade, taking a moment to catch her breath. Captain Harding gave up on hiding the vehicle and instead made it appear as if it had shifted several feet to the side, as well as hid the multiple bullet holes peppering the wall. None had made it all the way through, but there was no point in them knowing that the bullets had had any effect at all. Inside the trailer, Sherry punched several buttons by the door. It slid up a few feet, and before anybody could complain, she had rolled out onto the pavement and slid underneath the truck. The doors closed firmly behind her and sealed.

"Take out that APC first, if you would Phoenix. June will take care of the van. Keep your eye out, there may be more forces than we can currently account for. Use all necessary force, but try not to hurt any of our own operatives. They're well-trained by themselves, but they don't have any more experience with your abilities then the file they were allowed to read." Despite being in the middle of the incident, whoever was on the other side of the radio sounded no more concerned or stressed than as if he were reading a newspaper at the breakfast table.

-=NON-CANNON BATTLE POST=-

The cover behind Juniper Hall rattled and shook as lead shells impacted and flattened against it. That would be disconcerting enough without the knowledge that there was an entire trucks worth of armour between herself and her assailant- but also that the two Namidians, one president, and multiple non-combatant agents, were trapped somewhere between them inside the truck itself.
Fortunately Juniper hadn't be promoted to the rank of 'captain' on merit alone, and she'd already anticipated how to best to react to the sudden onslaught.
Her first priority was to ensure that Namidians did not discover the identity of their key agents such as Sharol, her second was to ensure that their three prisoners survived to be interrogated, and only once those two objectives were assured did she have the luxury to worry about her own well-being or the survival of her team.

She called out to the other riders in her unit.
"Get me counter-fire on that van! Return fire to the APC if any troops threaten to break cover!"
Not every agent under her command was gifted, but those who weren't were still more than proficient with the weapons they carried. She flexed her own Gift and began to expand the ITSDA's feeble cover into something more manageable by summoning several brick walls in a rough ring around the cabless truck.

"Crimson! now's your chance to take on the APC! Once we have a clear flank we'll manage a fighting retreat- Captain Harding! Cover him!"

An agent crouched in cover by her side, a blonde youth, shot her an enthusiastic "Yes Ma'am!" before leaving the cover of their truck and taking a running leap into the air. He left two burning footprints and an explosion in his wake as he dived high towards the Namidian gunman without so much as a moments hesitation or second thought. Earlier one of the Namidians, Zenith, had called Phoenix Crimson a 'simple predator' and June knew that it had been an accurate assessment; Daniel had literally been raised to fight other gifted, and although his sense of judgement had suffered as a result he had become exceptionally good at it. His proven record was such that she thought nothing of sending the single agent against an entire squad of highly skilled stormtroopers.

She turned her attention away from Daniels battle, and towards her own threat; the Black van that'd stopped them dead was only manned by a single gunman, but her training told Juniper that Dieter Sievold's private army was well trained, dangerously resourceful, and well stocked with Gifted lieutenants. With a terse set of orders she began directing her own troops, and shoring up her defences against the sweltering fire that was pouring on her squad from multiple directions...

---

"PHOENIX...!"

Daniel dived toward the APC with an eager grin, which was blurred and multiplied by the subtle perception field that Captain Harding had shielded around him. As the distance between himself and his target closed Mister Green swivelled his mounted gun away from the cluster of ITSDA agents and tried to clip the immediate threat, and his efforts were joined by scatted gunfire from the Ghoul troopers who were just leaving the vehicles boarding ramp; although all of their shots seemed to twist and distort harmlessly through Daniels illusionary shield. Stored power built up in his gloved hand and the latent energy behind his attack ignited the air surrounding him just before he struck.

"...PUNCH!"

The APC rocked back onto it's suspension as the side that Phoenix struck visibly listed several feet into the air and crashed back to earth. Mister Green was jarred back and fourth in his perch, and leaned away from his gun to stare into the APC's interior. Phoenix's first punch had hit with the force of an AT-gun, which had been enough to penetrate the vehicles multiple layers of armour, and a horrific split of metal had bulged into the passengers compartment. Mister Green had been briefed on Phoenix Crimson, and after he'd learnt about Vivianne's unfortunate encounter he'd taken it upon himself to learn more, but seeing the sheer offensive power first hand was still impressive.
He knew he'd have to end the fight quickly if he didn't want his escape vehicle to be totalled, or to end up sharing a recovery ward with his other Lieutenants.

Just as he finished the thought and prepared to shout instructions to Squad Samus a second punch rocked the vehicle back on it's wheels again, and this time the dent of armour buckled completely inwards as Phoenix's burning fist broke through. Any Ghouls who hadn't yet evacuated the vehicle were thrown bodily off their feet and scattered throughout the passenger hold like salt in a shaker. Green's instincts suddenly screamed 'Danger' and with a start he realized that instead of drawing his fist back for a third punch Phoenix was channelling his energy for another explosion.

"EVERYBODY OUT!" He ordered behind him, as he pulled himself out of the APC's mounted gun compartment and into the open air- the message reached the ears of his soldiers and the urgency in his voice forced the last of his reeling squad out of the boarding ramp only split seconds before Phoenix unleashed his next attack.
Both exit doors, the boarding ramp, the gunners hatch and the rend that his punches had opened all flared like a furnace as Daniel cooked the cabs interior with a violent burst of flame. The last soldiers to evacuate were punished with second degree burns down their backs, but were spared a sudden death by their quick reactions. Mister Green kicked himself away from the gunnery hatch just as a volcano of fire spouted out the top of the APC.

"Samus. Green. Draw Phoenix Crimson into the open- use any force necessary."
A curt clipped voice run out across the Namidian's tactical systems, and those with the benefit of Ghoul helmets saw personalised individual orders superimpose themselves onto their vision. Like a complex but well oiled machine the tide of the battlefield shifted as Laura, one of Schwartze Augen's mission co-ordinators, exerted her influence. Her expert advice and uncanny ability to compose complex tactical situations were absolutely vital for the unit to function at peak efficiency, and had been the turning point of many battles before now- given that each passing moment gave the ITSDA vital time to break their siege her expertise was sorely appreciated.

Mister Green's earpiece buzzed and he nodded acknowledgement to his own orders. By trade he was a Fixer, a smuggler, and a dealer- but it looked as though he'd have to take on a frontline role for this plan to succeed. With a resigned sigh he stepped off the still-burning APC roof, drew his sidearm, and landed on the same side of the truck to face Phoenix Crimson head on.

"Hey! Hothead!" Green called Phoenix's attention. Normally Green's style was more to talk softly but with weighted emphasis and subtle threat- but Laura demanded a distraction, and that's what he intended to provide. "There's only one 'Crimson' I acknowledge- and she wanted you to hold onto these!"
Green raised his pistol in a quickdraw and pumped the trigger.
Phoenix pulled his fist out of the stricken tank with a minor explosion and wrench of torn metal. A snappy retort touched his lips but the sight of Greens weapon hand tightening forced him to act before he could finish. He dived away with a power-assisted handspring that caused Green's first shot to breeze past him, landing on his feet he grasped the APC's driverside door and wrenched it off it's reinforced hinges with a flash of thermite. Pulling it infront of himself and dropping to his knee Phoenix felt his makeshift shield thrum with kinetic force as Green bounced a trio of bullets off the glass.

"Hah! Nice try!" He finished his taunt, as he prepared to blast himself forward and tackle the gunman. "-but I've been beating up Namidians all day, and I don't feel like stopping an-" *BLAMNN!* -"AUGHH!!"

A duo of Ghouls pounded around the front of the APC and brought their weapons to bear. A bullet slammed into Phoenix Crimsons shoulder and sent him reeling forwards. Ceramic splinters shot into the air and deep into his back as his armour spared the bullet from passing through him, but nonetheless crippled his right arm. Roaring in pain he pushed himself backwards into the two men before they could fire a second round and took them down. Slashing the first, the one who'd shot him, to the ground with a quick leg sweep he checked him into several weeks of physical therapy with a quick heel-stomp to the soldiers helmet. The second tried to step back to create enough distance to fire his weapon, but by the time he'd arrested his forward momentum Phoenix had already stepped over his battered comrade and thrown the second Ghoul over his shoulder in a Judo throw. The man was lifted bodily off his feet and slammed headfirst into the pavement whilst his armour sparked as Mister Green fired another opportunistic round of shots at Phoenix, only to fall short and hit the agents human shied. Daniel dropped his injured foe and recovered the APC's door, in a wild bull rush he ignored the screaming pain of his damaged limb and the sounds of Greens ammunition rebounding off his cover as he tried to get close enough to deliver one of his signature attacks.

*BLAMNN*

Green saw a muzzleflash over Phoenix's right shoulder, and a microsecond later he heard the rifles report wash past him as the back of Phoenix's armoured shin turn to ruby mist. The shot had come from the treeline that The Commanders snipers had occupied.

From Phoenix Crimsons perspective the ground lurched up towards him as his ruined leg failed to support his weight, and the burning pain of his shoulder wound and the short stab of agony behind his left leg both faded into cold aches. The world dimmed to black. His vision swam.
Throughout his eventful life Daniel had taken more than his fair share of injuries, and he recognised the worryingly familiar signs of going into shock. His thoughts started to cloud over as conciousness abandoned him.
"Hahhh..." He half laughed, half groaned. "...Damn."
So much for weighted last words, Gravity bounced Phoenix off the motorway and into an unceremonious heap.

Mister Green reloaded his sidearm with an economic flick of his thumb and slam of a cartridge, before strolling over to ensure the defeated agents demise with a final round to the head.
"Not a bad attempt." Green reflected. "-but you can't expect to luck your way through every fight. You must have known it'd end this way, eventually."
He got close enough to be sure of his shot, however his one-sided speech was interrupted by the terse and no-nonsense tone of Laura relaying fresh orders.
"Green. Get back on the gun- Samus is about to push their advance."
"Affirmative. I'll be in position just as soon as I've finished up here." Mr Green lined up his sights, intent on claiming revenge for the trouble that Phoenix Crimson had put his organization through today.
"Get in position now." Laura's tone was as firm as stone. "Focus on the agents that are still a threat."
Green lowered his weapon and tutted his tongue in frustration. Laura was right, of course. Green doubted that she liked giving the order any more than he had liked receiving it- but there was still a battle to be won, and victory always took priority over personal grievances.

---

Private Theodore Logan was a hard man, although not a superhuman. He had been rigorously trained by Schwartze Augen in both conventional military technique, as well as specialized counter-gifted combat. He didn't possess super strength or optic blasts or any other kind of gifted ability, yet had been trained how to counter and destroy those who did.
That was why he felt no fear when he and his squad had been ordered to subdue an entire convoy of ITSDA superhuman agents with nothing more than the weapons they usually carried. For any other military force it would be a suicide order, but for Squad 'Samus' it was just routine.

"Green's position has been resecured- you are clear to advance."
Lauras voice enunciated through his Ghoul helmet, and gave Logan's squad the order they had been waiting for. Logan's squad leader gave a simple hand signal as a confirmation that their orders were clear, and every member of his unit moved and acted in perfect unison:
First Mister Black shifted form and stopped sending individual rounds at aimed individuals, and instead opened his weapon into full-automatic to begin pelting the pinned ITSDA agents to their cover.
At the same time Logan and several other footsoldiers hustled from behind the cover of their damaged APC and sprinted in a wide arc that took them around Mister Greens field of fire and into a sidelong flank with the trapped agents. Now with the two Lieutenants from each side, Commanders team of snipers, Logans unit and the vehicles penning in their transport their quarry was well and truly trapped.

Laura's voice checked in again, ever helpful.
"Captain Juniper Hall has called every ITDSA operative remaining in Chicago for urgent assistance. The nearest responding agents are just over four clicks away. Our time buffer remains unchanged, but urgency status has been upgraded to 'Violet'."
In time with her announcement Logan's enemies redoubled their own firepower. Bullets whizzed past him, and he shouldered his rifle to return the sentiment; his mask's optical display informed him that his rounds had found their mark and synchronised with his squad mates own feeds and S.A's bank of handlers to suggest a new target. As bid, he fired a tight burst of rounds which sent said target scampering into cover.
Despite the fact that the battle obviously wasn't in the their favour Hall's soldiers were fighting like demons, doubtless they thought that if they dug in deep they might be able to hold out long enough for backup to arrive- but Logan knew that their effort was in vain. Surrounding and immobilizing their convoy was only the beginning of Samus's offensive.

The man to Logans side hefted his M72 LAW Missile system over his shoulder, and aimed in a high arc. The weapon was designed with anti-armour in mind, but had been restocked with HighExplosive ammunition for this operation; and with a sudden thunderstrike of ignition a warhead was sent square into the centre of the ITSDA stockade.
The blast sent the defenders of justice reeling, and neither Logan or any of his squadmates missed their opportunity to break cover and storm their foes position; their charge had been planned and executed in exacting detail and Logan knew that all resistance would be neutralized within thirty seconds, all Namidians extracted within sixty.

---

A bullet whizzed close enough to Juniper Hall's ear to make it ring, and a second round impacted off the brick wall she'd summoned as cover to shower her with shards of hard-light.
She peeled herself out of cover and cracked off a tight bust of bullets at the distant form of Mister Black, who didn't flinch as the deadly hail missed him by scant inches. Black levelled his weapon and returned fire, sending June back into cover.

"Damn it all!" she swore aloud, she didn't usually let herself get worked up during combat but the situation was pressing against her hard- and her options were shrinking by the second. Half her agents were either dead or dying; and what few remained were pinned from four sides and being picked off one by one.
In a situation like this it would either be total annihilation, or a close victory, and she decided to stake everything on one last counter-attack.

"Turn to face the West and North flanks! Get me a Grenade on that M.G! YOU! CONCENTRATE FIRE ON THE GHOULS- WE CAN'T HIT THE LONE GUNMAN FROM THIS R-" *KA-BLAMNN!*

The end of her sentence was cut off as a wall of hot air buffeted past her, and Samus's HE rocket exploded in the midst of the ITSDA's ring of cover. One agent was thrown bodily into the air, whilst June saw another battered to the ground by shrapnel. She herself had stumbled and lost her balance, and as she tried to pull herself together her disoriented vision saw the bug-eyed helmet of a Schwartze Augen soldier rushing from his cover, vaulting over one of her barricades, and brutally kicking one of her reeling agents in the temple. The struck agent fell backwards in an insensible heap and the soldier turned to face her with malicious intent; but damned if she was going to go down without a fight.

She marshalled her wits with a sheer force of will and tackled the Namidian grunt before he had a chance to bring his weapon to bear, they both fell roughly to the ground and Hall summoned the first object she could think of- a brick- and clubbed the soldier over the head with it, which elicited a satisfying crunch and shrill cry of pain. A second soldier came into view as he pounded his way around another section of cover and cluster of downed agents. She brought fourth a coil of chains around his ankles to trip him to the floor whilst her remaining hand shot to her hip to draw her sidearm, but halfway through the action her wrist was locked in a vice-like grip and twisted with a sickening pop of dislocation; the soldier she'd beaten had held onto just enough conciousness to put up resistance, she only had a second to wince in pain and attempt to club him with her brick again before her second target closed the distance and drove an iron-knuckled fist into her jaw.
Her world turned black.

---

Sherry huddled under the cabless armoured truck with her hands over her head, sure that at any moment a stray round would seek her out. The moment the fight broken out she'd left the protection of her transport to assist on the front lines- Juniper had been furious that she'd put herself in danger, but realized that she didn't have the time to argue past Sharol's stubborn nature and begrudgingly allowed her to tend to battlefield injuries. The turning point in the battle had come when Phoenix and several other agents were gunned down and the damage started to pile up faster than she could repair- despite Sherry's protests Juniper had been adamant that she make herself scarce, and impressed on her the fact that if she was captured by Namidians the result would be far worse than simply losing their battle. Shouted down, Sherry had relented.

With a hollow echo a last gunshot sounded and the motorway was suddenly silent; the constant hammering of lead, explosions and screams of pain suddenly abated. From her position she could see the armoured boots of several Ghoul operatives picking their way through the battlefield towards her position. They stepped over the bodies of several wounded, dead or dying agents and took up position around the trucks cargo door.

"It's deadlocked. Use the thermal lance."
One of the figures ordered, and another stepped forward and started burning through the vehicles composite armour with a device that sent sparks bouncing down into her hiding place. The other figures surrounded him and settled into a braced posture that told Sherry that they had readied their weapons. She resisted her first urge to break cover and dive to the rescue, and instead crunched her eyes shut and silently prayed that the Namidians wouldn't simply shoot Captain Harding, Slick, and the ITSDA paramedics still trapped inside.
With a sudden rend of metal the door was pulled away, literally off it's hinges, there was the distinctive flash and ring of a concussion-grenade detonation, and the air was filled with aggressive shouts.

"Hands where I can see them! Surrender!"

Above her the van rocked on it's suspension as the squad of armed men beat their targets into submission and roughly pulled the sedated Ash, Zenith and President Galvez out of their bonds and onto their feet. Zenith seemed to be the quickest to recover, and as he was part-guided and part-dragged back to the Mr Green's APC he managed to slur out a short statement.

"Thank you for the assistance... but we don't need to bring him with us..."

The group of extracting soldier stopped, and from Sherry's limited view she could see the pair hoisting the injured Brazilian president nod to each other, drop him heavily to the ground. His eyes were wide with terror but glassed over an instant later, when a single gunshot rang out and pierced his skull.
Sherry covered her mouth with her a palm to stifle a startled scream of horror.

---

Tudor swivelled in The Commanders chair as he watched his virtual tactical map unfold. The symbol representing Dieter's APC filled with miniature portraits of Ash, Zenith, Mister Green and several soldiers- and was shortly joined by Mister Blacks marker as they extracted out. The portraits of his own forces, the Numbered Brethren, had already withdrawn from their sniper positions and were linking up with a getaway SUV at the next road.
With a tap and a scroll of his fingers on the chairs armrest the map panned out to view the ITSDA forces; the nearest agents to respond to the prisoner transports urgent S.O.S would find themselves almost half a minute late- and that almost half of the forces they'd been sent to rescue had been gunned down, the rest rendered combat incapable.

The Acting Commander smiled to himself. In his place 'The' Commander would doubtless fuss over details and berate every minor fault of the operation, but Tudor considered this a successful outcome. The Namidian forces had only suffered minor casualties and all key operatives were still active, whereas the ITSDA had suffered a brutal and harsh defeat. One that they wouldn't soon forget.

He sent a targeted message through the Namidian-net to Schwartze Augen's directors.
"Long range scans show no sign of pursuit. It's a clean getaway- mission accomplished."
He switched channels to his own units.
"N.B you are clear for extraction. We're done here."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:42, Tue 01 Dec 2015.

The cover behind Juniper Hall rattled and shook as lead shells impacted and flattened against it. That would be disconcerting enough without the knowledge that there was an entire trucks worth of armour between herself and her assailant- but also that the two Namidians, one president, and multiple non-combatant agents, were trapped somewhere between them inside the truck itself.
Fortunately the bars on Junipers shoulder that denoted her rank of 'captain' weren't just for show, and she'd already anticipated how to best to turn the situation to her favour.
Her first priority was to ensure that Namidians didn't pen them in and gain control of the battlefield, her second was to ensure that their three prisoners survived to be interrogated, and only once those two objectives were assured did she have the luxury to worry about minimising collateral damage and the damage her own team was likely to sustain.

"You, you and YOU! Return fire to the APC if any troops threaten to break cover! Everyone else, with me! We're moving that van out of the way!"

She called out to the other riders in her unit. Not every agent under her command was gifted, but those who weren't were still more than capable in a scrap. She summoned her own gift and began to expand the ITSDA's feeble cover into something more substantial by summoning several brick walls and concrete roadblocks in a rough ring around the cabless truck.

"Crimson, get moving and clear our flank!- Captain Harding! Cover him!"

An agent crouched in cover by her side, a deceptively fair-featured blonde, shot her a keen "On it!" before leaving the cover of their truck and taking a running leap into the air. He left two burning footprints and an explosion in his wake as he dived high towards the Namidian gunman without so much as a shadow of hesitation, as though he was as comfortable storming the armoured car as he would have been making a pot of coffee.
Earlier one of the Namidians, Zenith, had called Phoenix Crimson a 'simple predator' and June knew that he'd been right; Daniel's life had revolved around violence since the age of thirteen, and although his lifestyle had made him reckless and volatile, he had nonetheless become frighteningly good at his job. The APC full of Namidian stormtroopers was no light threat, but June knew that for sheer offensive power Daniel was the perfect weapon to take them on.

She turned her attention away from the APC, and towards the other threat; the Black van that'd stopped them dead was only manned by a single gunman, but her training told Juniper that Dieter Sievold's private army was well trained, dangerously resourceful, and well stocked with Gifted lieutenants. With a terse set of orders she began directing her own troops, shoring up her defences against multiple directions and gathering her troops resolve for a counter attack...

---

"PHOENIX...!"

Daniel dived toward the APC with an eager grin, which was blurred and multiplied by the subtle perception field that Captain Harding had shielded around him. As the distance between himself and his target closed Mister Green swivelled his mounted gun away from the cluster of ITSDA agents and tried to clip the immediate threat, and his efforts were joined by scatted gunfire from the Ghoul troopers who were just leaving the vehicles boarding ramp; although all of their shots seemed to twist and distort harmlessly through Daniels illusionary shield. Stored power built up in his gloved hand and the latent energy behind his attack ignited the air surrounding him just before he struck.

"...PUNCH!"

The APC rocked back onto it's suspension, as the left side that Phoenix struck visibly listed several feet into the air and crashed back to earth. Mister Green was thrown violently from his gunnery seat and across the APCs roof. A blot of white noise squealed over his headset, and through the masks of Samus's entire unit.
Phoenix's first punch had penetrated through several inches of composite armour, and besides throwing several of Dieters elite soldiers off their feet he'd inadvertently damaged Schwartze Augen's tactical transmitter- The Namididan forces reeled for a moment before their systems automatic compensators switched to their short-range configuration. Mister Green recovered from the shock of impact quickly and immediately tried to key back into one of his mission handlers frequencies. Phoenix's punch had done more damage than the young agent knew, and the closest signal that Green could get was butchered by terrestrial interference.

"S----. --een. Draw Phoen-- ------ --to the ----, us- --- --rce necessary."

Mister Green recognised the even tone of Laura even through the disruptive bursts of static, although her actual instructions were illegible. Schwartze Augen had mechanisms in place to restore lost communications, but none of them could be employed whilst their Command APC was still being pummelled by armour piercing punches.

A second explosive jab rocked the vehicle back on it's wheels again, and this time Phoenix's fiery fist split a gap wide enough into the armoured cars side for him to walk through. Any Ghouls who hadn't yet evacuated the vehicle were thrown bodily off their feet and scattered throughout the passenger hold like salt in a shaker. Without S.A's constant tactical input micromanaging his moves Green was forced to fall back on his own training, and he released himself from his gunnery mounting to fall into the APC's compromised hold meet Phoenix Crimson in single combat.

He'd read about the agent in his files, of course. Since the 'Two Crimsons' had battled Daniels file had been updated to include the bright red header 'DO NOT ENGAGE IN C.Q.C'. Unfortunately, Green didn't have much of a choice, and if he didn't deal with Phoenix Crimson now his resources would only diminish. As he dropped from the open-air gunners hatch he landed on the panelled metal floor of the APC's interior with a dramatic stomp of his boots. Crimson was already waiting for him, and greeted him with a cheeky grin.

"Let me guess. You would be Mister... Green?"

He indicated the mans vivid coloured hair with a broad wave of his hand. Green didn't enable Phoenix's need to play with his opponents, and simply made to draw his sidearm.

"My old team did the colour coordinated shtick as well." Phonix continued to prattle. "Or at least they used to, until you Namidians killed them off. -Oh! On a related note! FINGERS!"

At the same moment that Phoenix shouted that last word he threw a sweep kick in a high arc, and into Greens hand that was just now coming from his jacket with his backup pistol drawn. Daniels kicked carried his hand into the holds wall, where it was crushed between that, his gun and Phoenix's boot with a disturbing snap of broken and dislocated fingerbones.

"Arh-!!!"

Green strangled his own scream of pain in his throat and summoned his Gift; his objective wasn't to defeat Phoenix Crimson here, his files told him that plan was sheer madness, but only to delay him long enough for one off his Ghouls, or perhaps one of Commanders Snipers, to flank him and deal a lethal shot. He forced his alchemical abilities through his broken digits and into the APC's superstructure- turning a fist sized chunk of it's metal frame into pure Argon gas. The claustrophobic hold immediately burst into pale suffocating smog and Green took in a last breath of clean air and held it. Phoenix, completely taken by surprise cried out and ingested a lungful of poisonous air, which left him gagging and stumbling backwards as he instinctively tried to find a source of unpolluted oxygen.
With his own breath held Green pried his weapon out of his ruined digits, and with visible pain and effort managed to swap it into his off-hand. He levelled the weapon at Phoenix just in time to see that the agent had managed to grab a Ghoul helmet off the APC's interior equipment rack and had used it to clear his lungs before he dived back to Green.

Green squared his gun, and pumped it's trigger a trio of times just as Phonix managed to wrench his arm to the ceiling. Ammunition ricochetted and rebounded around the bulletproof transports interior with a firework display of sparks and deafening noise, that was broken with a painful 'Crackk' as Phonix Crimson wrapped his arms around Greens neck and forced his knee into his jaw with a pitiless slam. It had been a good attempt on the Namidian lieutenants part, but without his tactical co-ordination the fight had been viciously one-sided. The Namidians were used to working as a careful group that made accounts for every contingency whereas Phoenix had always been comfortable facing stacked odds, and the damage to their tactical systems had given him the opening he'd needed.

---

Private Theodore Logan was a hard man, but that was all. He had been rigorously trained by Schwartze Augen in both conventional military technique, as well as specialized counter-gifted combat. He didn't possess super strength or optic blasts or any other kind of gifted ability, yet had been trained how to counter and destroy those who did.
With that said, his training didn't cover what'd just happened.
A single gifted had managed (he guessed by pure chance) to cripple his transport, to throw half his squad into disarray with his opening volley, and to take out both his leader and his contact to his mission co-ordinator.
Mentally his mind filed down his command-chain and realized with a worried start that he was the units next commanding officer. Considering that his squads misfortunes had all been in the space of a few moments it would be understandable for him to panic, but Schwartze Augen's training was better than that- the studious drilling and training had been taught to him by rote; and he knew exactly how to deal with the new threat.

"Samus!" he Commanded. "Form on me! Concentrate fire on my mark. Mark!"

With his last word he fired a round into the cramped hold of the APC, and was immediately joined by the four remaining combat-capable members of his squad. Such as it was, the chances of them injuring their superior 'Mister Green' were high, but every ITSDA agent was marked as a high-value target and Logan considered the risk of injuring his superior to be worthwhile against ending the threat of a 'Nova' tier threat.

As the inside of the APC sparked into a rave of rebounding sparks and spent ammunition a gout of fire shot out of the APC's roof and arced down into Logans squad like a mortarshell. With the exertion of battle Phoenix Crimsons armour was glowing a solid white, and Logan scarcely had time to realize that the agent was pushing past the limits of his abilities before his world turned to a mess of disorientation and pain;

Phoenix crashed into the dead centre of five faceless Namidian goons. He couldn't tell one apart from the other, but the gas-filtering helmet he'd stolen identified the one immediately infront of him as 'Acting First Sergeant Logan'. The helmet changed it's display to show a list of more detailed information, but Crimson didn't care to see it because he'd already lifted the it off his head and swung the headpiece in a broad arc to batter Logan's own faceplate as a vicious improvised weapon. Both helmets exploded into fragments, and as Logan collapsed into the ground Crimson raised his fists to handle his next four opponents.
Even without the tactical leadership of Logan, Laura or Green the four remaining soldiers didn't falter- and acted as one as they improvised a battleplan. One dived to tackled Phoenix in a grapple, whilst the others took a step back to use the momentary distraction to check their aim. The first man played his gambit to the hilt, and even as Phoenix downed him with a flurry of explosive punches they were both tackled to the ground by the Ghouls momentum.
As he fell he saw the other men with their weapons already trained squeeze their triggers, and Phoenix twisted in the air to roll into a recovery just as the first volley of rounds sung past his head and kicked craters of asphalt out of the motorway behind him. Daniel desperately ducked and dodged through the multiple lines of fire, another salvo of bullets rattled past him and he felt that the Ghouls wouldn't take much longer to anticipate his evasions- the open road didn't offer much cover, and the hero struggled to think of a way to close the gap to his targets.

"Phoenix! Fall back- the forward flank is open. We're making our escape!" Captain Halls voice suddenly cut across his masks communication systems.
"June! Gladly!" Daniel enthused. He'd been so occupied with his own battle that he'd forgotten the rest of the Captains plan, but she'd obviously been busy herself.
"Just give me a moment! There's something I want to wrap up!"

Daniel stomped both his feet into the ground and launched himself high into the air with an explosive leap. The lines of gunfire tracing him swerved upwards along with the Ghouls aims as they focused their fire on leading their target, and cutting him down before he could dive at them. To their surprise, however, Crimson instead jerked his thumb across his chest to activate his suits 'Flight mode' and fired himself away from them with a bright burst of flame.
His path brought him out of their veiw and over the top of the stricken Armoured Personnel Carrier. He checked himself by activating his armours airbrakes, and handsprung his landing in an acrobatic vault that dropped him onto the vehicles hood, which brought him grinning face-to-face with Samus's driver through the tanks armoured windshield.

"Buckle up! Buddy!" he called out to the driver, even as the Namidian gunned the APC's engine to either throw off or run down the unwanted Crimson passanger. Phoenix drew back his fist as he wound up another punch, and with a dual explosion of diesel and anti-matter he reduced the transport engine block to a useless mound of burning slag.

---

Seconds earlier, the ITSDA captain was still engaged in her own conflict.

A bullet whizzed close enough to Juniper Hall's ear to make it ring, and a second round impacted off the brick wall she'd summoned as cover to shower her with shards of hard-light.
She peeled herself out of cover and cracked off a tight bust of bullets at the distant form of Mister Black, who didn't flinch as the deadly storm of ammunition missed him by bare inches. He levelled his weapon and returned fire, sending June back into cover.

"He's reloading! Advance!" she commanded into her headpiece. Mister Blacks ability to slightly alter fate made him a deadly and difficult opponent, but as a single adversary he would only be able to push his luck so far.
As her troops broke cover they were greeted with a volley of return fire- and several muzzle flashes from across the motorways verge told her that a squad of Namidian snipers were covering Blacks blind spots. As she watched one of her agents dropped to the ground howling in surprised agony as a bullet passed through her knee joint- June noted that the snipers seemed to be restraining themselves to non-lethal shots which was something she was thankful for (but, understandably, only by the loosest definition of 'thankful').
"Harding, Sir! Please reposition the perception field off Phoenix and back onto our forward flank! Continue the advance!"
The battle currently hinged on a knifes edge; and every downed Agent or Namidian shifted the weight of the battle by a vital degree. Hall was committed to following through her attack, and she knew that the next few moments would either win or lose them the day.

She pounded after her riders, and a wall of obsticating illusion swept out from the van to cover her. Looking down at her own arms she could see a faint shimmer of afterblur and distorted light- and as another sniper round lanced out at her and missed by a good five feet she knew that Hardings power had taken hold.

Mister Black clacked a new magazine into his weapon and took careful aim. His eyes seemed to linger on the sights for a moment longer than they might have, but when he pulled the trigger June was horrified to see the agent closest to him double over and clutch his hands to a centre-mass bullet wound. With terrifying calmness Black lined up another shot on the next closest agent; June herself. Whatever Blacks fate-altering powers involved they seemed to give him a means to counter Harding's illusion, and June could see the visible concentration on his face as his own gift fought with the other to guide his aim.
June dived to the ground at the same instant the man's aim seemed to steady and his eyes narrowed. Her gift called out for cover, and created a life-saving pile of sandbags only just tall enough to hunker behind. A spray of summoned sand blasted into the air above her as Black's round was wasted, and she dispelled her cover to resume her charge.
The remaining meters between them closed before Blacks gift could line up another shot, and as he forced himself to fire prematurely Hardings gift ensured the shot flew wide. The multiplied and illusionary figures of June summoned another item into her grip, a length of steel piping, which she swung down at him with violent force. Black caught the attack in his bare hand, and although he'd pay for doing so with bruises and fractures the action gave him the chance to pin down June's exact location- which he used to blast her with a dark shot of the same energy that'd jinxed her bike.

Harding's field seemed to shimmer and fade from her, and as Black twisted his grip on his weapon to crush her temple with a savage pistol-whip her feet stumbled backwards and tripped on a magazine that Black had dropped during his gunfight. Bad luck!
Her eyes pulsed red and black as her vision swam, but she managed to steady her posture and keep herself from falling to the ground.
Mister Black was a dedicated bodyguard, and one Dieters more dangerous lieutenants- so he knew how to counter Junipers clumsy retaliation as she held onto her conciousness and took another swing at him. More difficult however, was knowing how to handle the remaining members of Captain Halls squad who were almost on top of him. June fought her corner, and with the two locked in a grapple Black was unable to use his weapons as he was dogpiled, beaten bloodily to the ground, and locked in a pair of restraining handcuffs.
Even with fate on his side, some outcomes were inevitable.

As one of her riders subdued the remaining Namidians in the van, and hastily idled it out of their transports way, Juniper radioed in an update to her convoy.

"Phoenix! Fall back- the forward flank is open. We're making our escape!"
"Slick! Start moving! We will be  loading the truck with new prisoners and injured agents- so make yourself ready!"

---

Tudor paced his Command centre anxiously as he watched his virtual tactical map unfold. With the communication array on Dieters vehicle damaged, and his own strategic aids out of range, he'd been forced to use a long-distance satellite feed that was both unreliable and slow to update. The symbol representing the prisoners transport flickered and lost it's definition, before reforming several meters further down the highway. The prisoner transport was trailed by icons representing several known ITSDA agents, as well as the portraits of Dieters captured Lieutenants. The icons representing his own forces, the Numbered brethren, were unregistrable to his crude satellite fallback- but he knew that once the prisoner transport got moving at full speed they wouldn't be able to keep pace, and that the day would be lost.

The multi-panelled screen dominating his view suddenly shifted format, and a notification from the Namidian net was brought to his attention.

"Schwartze Augen, Sir! Through our emergency channel, Sir!" One of the rooms technicians reported. The emergency channel was only used in the event of a major threat to either Dieter or Commanders organizations- and the fact that it was deployed now indicated both the urgency and weight of the incoming message.
"Put it on the speakers. Audio only. Return main screen to satellite view."

As the tactical map returned to show that the dire situation had worsened the rooms speakers crackled with a calm direct voice. Tudor recognised 'Laura' when he heard her, and although she had been cut off from directly communicating with her men she could still open a channel between other Namidian leaders.

"Acting Commander. The current outcome is unacceptable. Schwartze Augen will not tolerate the capture and interrogation of Samus Unit and two Lieutenants in addition to the casualties we have already sustained today."
Tudor harrumphed his agreement, but added nothing. On the screen the flickering and faulty icons informed him that the cabless prisoner transport was just now passing Mister Blacks downed van, and would soon be on the open road.
"Do you have the means to contact N.B, and to mount a distraction operation?"
Tudor harrumphed again.
"Only barely. N.B has minor munitions, but we can only send simple orders through interceptable one-way wavelength- at this range. If you have a plan it'd better be good."
Lauras voice was as calm as ever. Tudor expected that the situation might elicit a slight note of worry from her, but if anything the need for exact professionalism and quick wits only seemed to make her more driven.
"It is. Tell your troops to stand by- I will also require you to recall a number of your getaway vans back into the field. At designated points A, B and F."

Before Tudor could ask what Laura's recovery plan involved the thermal view of his satellite camera suddenly flared into white noise. Schwartze Augen had triggered the suicide protocols on Mister Blacks van, and dealt a final parting blow against the prisoner transport.
The virtual icons representing Mister Green, Black and several of Samus's still active soldiers scattered from their ITSDA wardens- to make their escape by foot.

Tudor sent his orders.

---

Seconds earlier...

Sherry hung onto the trucks rear ramp, and watched the procession of captured Namidians being led in step behind her. Juniper had been furious to learn that she'd left her station as the fight had started, but couldn't argue past the fact that Sherrys presence had reduced the ITSDA's casualties to an optimistic minimum. Hall had, however, been adamant that Sherry not be allowed to treat the captured Namidians until they had been sedated, which would have to wait until they had cleared the area and reset the trucks secured deadbolts. Juniper herself was idling her bike behind the prisoners with her eyes open for the first sign of an escape, Harding was still maintaining his distortion field to deter the un-identified Nammidian snipers who must still be lurking close by, and Phoenix Crimson had decided to compensate for his own immobilized bike by hitching a ride atop the Prison Vans roof.

As the prison vehicle started to pick up speed Sherry began to hope that she'd endured the brief burst of excitement the ambush had provided, and that Namidias had played his last hand for the day. Her hopes were shattered when Mister Blacks van detonated without warning- and send a great gout of fire, shrapnel, and searing air across the entire convoy.
Although her hearing had been immediately knocked out Sherry could still register the sharp crack's of fresh gunfire coming from the Namidian sniper team that'd fallen silent after the APC's defeat- her eye's picked out commotion among the fresh captives as well, the handcuffed men and woman of Samus and their two leaders were attempting to fight through the ITSDA lines and make a sprint to freedom, although their efforts were only met with violent retaliation.

Suddenly a second set of explosions set her senses screaming again. Concussive flashbang and gas grenades were being fired from a high arc into the ITSDA lines from the snipers position- the distraction gave the prisoners the edge they needed and they were finally able to break from their captivity. Several of the Namidians were too injured to get far, but both lieutenants and the majority of their soldiers hustled away from the convoy and in separate directions. At this point it must have been obvious that their objective to free Ash and Zenith had failed- and that their new directive was to extract their own casualties.

Sherry squinted her eyes. As some of the fleeing villains made their escape they would seem to fall away and vanish. Between the eye-stinging gas and the confusing nature of a gunfight she couldn't be sure; but she fancied that a few of the fleeing prisoners were being swallowed by 'portals' that would open beneath their feet and spirit them away. What the hell was this?

Several of the ITSDA agents began to direct gunfire towards their fleeing quarry, but Juniper Halls voice cut clear across their headsets to check their actions.

"Hold fire! Our objective is to guard our current prisoners- leave Schwartze Augen to our follow up forces, but we are NOT to pursue this distraction!"
Hall had always been an objective-oriented leader, and now was no different.
"Gaurd the transport with your life. Back to you positions- NOW! Slick, get us rolling again!"

With their siege broken the ITSDA continued on their route, to link up with their sub-Chicago headquarters and deliver their three prisoners into custody. Whilst the Namidian forces made urgent tracks to extract before the numerous other ITSDA forces in the area could hem them in and pick up where Juniper left off.
Beaten and bruised both parties remarked that the fight had not been to their favour- but could have been, and very nearly had been, a whole lot worse.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:48, Sat 05 Dec 2015.

Laura had never been, like all the tactical operators, part of any military or para-military structure before SA. Unlike the Ghouls who were poached or hired out from under various serious such organizations. No, she had been recruited at age 16 while in High School. A full ride scholarship to a prestigious university where she studied Mathematics and History. After that, a rigorous training program in a place she still had no idea of the location. SA had wanted a mind free of the paradigms and strategies taught at the various military academies and training grounds. One that could be molded into exactly what was needed, as close to a human computer as possible. Laura's eyes flicked over the images before her as her lips pressed into a thin, pale line. As expected, using limited resource to stage an attack on a heavily guarded ITSDA convoy was not an ideal circumstance in the slightest. It limited the strategies at her disposal. If the ambush had not worked then it would have been an abject failure of an encounter.

Her reached out a hand and pulled down a notepad with the list of available resources and grimaced. She then winced as her earpiece crackled to life a bit too loud to announce reinforcements from Command. She grunted and cursed mentally. Tudor was competent, but no where near as good as the Commander. She modified her resources list and continued to factor plans and strategies. She looked to her leftmost screen where a tactical program was running lightning fast calculations. Somewhere, a supercomputer was acting her assistant and showing her ideas. The computing technology available to SA was impressive, but Dieter insisted on human hands on buttons whenever possible.

There was a 35% chance that the main SA "threat" would be engaged by the Gifted known as Phoenix Crimson. In probability analysis, that was all but guaranteed. The problem was, the stats also suggested there was no scenario in which Squad Samus and Mr. Green prevailed. Gifted of his power and experience were hard to deal with using such limited resources. What she wouldn't give for either Ash or Zenith to be active. She considered the options, chose a course, then activated her mic to speak a few terse lines even as her fingers flew and sent data to the Ghouls' HUDs, "Do NOT engage Phoenix Crimson in close quarters."

---

Juniper was no rookie herself and had years of command experience in the field to aid her in assessing the status of the ambush. As with all ambushes, it was currently a disaster for those ambushed. A burst of rounds impacted the bricks she was currently hunkered behind. She couldn't explain it but brick walls were always what she summoned for defense on instinct. She glanced around at her hunkered down crew then flicked a glance at the two still, prone forms. If something wasn't done soon, she was going to be in trouble. She sighed even as another tattoo of gunfire rattled against the wall and rolled her eyes. Harding's field should be making those rounds all but negligible, but the shooter seemed to have some trick to mitigate that. The green fool and the black cliche. She grit her teeth as another salvo of .50 Cal rounds rattled her nerves, "Do something about that, would you?"

The kid grinned like mad idiot and vaulted over the wall. He landed on the ball of his left foot and seemed to pause pregnant with potential. With a boom, the boy rocketed toward the APC, "PHOENIX!!!" Juniper groaned at the theatrics but knew they served a purpose. For just a second, several untrained eyes moved to the exuberant shouting and she exposed herself to shoot three aimed shots at the Walking Cliche but clucked her tongue as the shots went wide. She was a crack hot and the man had not even tried to move; something fishy there. She dropped down again as the man fired his own return shots. She started to give commands to her remaining soldier in short terse sentences.

---

Mr. Green watched the blonde boy rocket toward the APC and frowned. He had read the file on the kid and knew this was the one to have taken down Lady Crimson, but still... "Really? Is all that shouting necessary?" He shook his head. It betrayed subtly that he was not as experienced in combat as others. He should have been pulling the trigger. By the time he thought to, the boy was too close and Green's eyes opened wide and he dropped back into the vehicle even as it rocked and shook violently. "PUNCH!!!" was heard from outside. The last two Ghouls paused and were staring behind him at something. He turned slowly and saw a massive section of the vehicle buckled in. "Well, don't see that every day!" Pounding feed announced the last two disembarking and he looked over a bit confused. He shrugged and then staggered as the vehicle rocked again. He looked back to the hull and was fascinated to watch the metal buckle in with a shrill scream like a teenager seeing a new zit. This zit even developed a whitehead after a second and Green chuckled. Then the whitehead bloomed and he realized it was a hand which had punched straight through the hull. he recalled who this was and his mouth made an "O" of surprise even as he dove for the hatch.

The APC erupted like a geyser of fire and Ghouls went scattering everywhere. Mr. Green landed a few feet from the vehicle with a ringing in his ears and grit his teeth. That had not been fun at all. Someone needed to teach that boy some manners.

---

Mr. Black sighed as he watched the boy rocket off toward the APC and hoped Mr. Green would be fine. The man was a competent negotiator and Fixer but piss poor in combat most of the time. Too easily distracted. It wasn't like he was a soldier either though. He had combat experience but guarding bodies was an altogether different thing than soldiering. He took a shot at an exposed head and missed again with a curse. If he had been more professional, he would not be standing in the open depending on his field for protection. Too, he could have been advancing and taking the position. Neither of them was part of the plan though, so eh stood here and kept the soldiers pinned in place. The fire from the APC was missed though. He grunted as he watched it seemingly blow up. Well, you don't see that every day."

---

Phoenix felt a bit of thrill as he tried to remove his hand from the hull without shredding it. It hadn't been the most efficient of attacks, but it had served the purpose. Phoenix believed more in improvisation and off-the-cuff maneuvers more than sound strategy. His own personal power usually allowed him to pull it off. He was just remembering the explosion and looking around for survivors when he saw a man stagger around the corner, wheezing. The man had on violent green and looked a bit worse for wear. Phoenix grinned and tugged at his hands again. He was going to have to blow the chunk of twisted metal off his arm. The green man looked up at Crimson and grinned before drawing a pistol and firing twice at Phoenix. He raised his armored arm and let the two small caliber shots ricochet off. "Umm, this si full tactical combat armor... the hell man? You brought a .38?"

The green man smiled, "No need for injury, just delay, sonny." Phoenix frowned and idly tugged at his arm again. It felt more solidly held now and he looked at where there had been a hole before. Now, the metal had flowed down around his arm and was holding it tightly. "How?" He looked back just in time to see three more men come around the sides of the APC with weapons far more powerful than a .38 revolver. "SHIT!" He reacted fast, on instinct and experience, and set a explosion off inside the damaged APC. It erupted again and he felt a tearing and ripping in his arm as he flew backwards. The fire from the Ghouls' weapons ripped harmlessly through air as he flew back. He rolled, tumbled, skipped of a rock, tumbled some more, and finally crashed into a tree with an audible groan of pain. He was laying lip on the ground with his damaged arm laying out before him. He idly noted that he still had a bracelet of steel and had been fairly lucky. Whatever had allowed the metal to flow around him had also made it less... durable. Still, he saw that the arm was torn, broken, and bloody. The explosion itself had not harmed him, but breaking free of its metal prison had made a mess of his limb and the armor covering it. He smiled as he saw the squad of soldiers forming to approach him.

Suddenly, Mr. Green raised his hand and shook his head, "I got this, I think. Focus on the mission." With practiced obedience the Ghoul team refocused on the trailer and moved off even as Mr. Green approached the injured but not out of it Phoenix Crimson. The hero used the tree which had broken his fall, and maybe a few ribs, and smiled at the man, "If you thi..." The man chopped the air with the hand still holding the revolver, which was now smoking from its cylinder for some reason. "Shut up. It was over the minute you underestimated me. I know your type. You depend on circumstance, talent, and luck more than planning. I know because I am the same. You shouldn't make fun of a man's chosen weapon, sonny. Especially when you don't know what he can do with it." Mr. Green suddenly threw a hand toward Phoenix who raised his still armored arm to shrug off some more .38 rounds, but was met with a wet splash instead. He looked at the liquid covering his arm even as the armor began to smoke and caustic scents assailed his nose. His eyes went wide and he flicked his arm to get the stuff off but it just held on.

"Nice try, old man, but some smelly jelly won't hurt me too much. It isn't even eating at the armor. Prepare for an ass-whooping." The man smiled. Phoenix summoned his willpower and made to launch one of his patented attacks. He crouched and focused then set off the explosion. Even as he began to move though, something was wrong. His whole body was on fire! His momentum was building like normal, but he lost control as he flailed against the raging inferno. Whatever the jelly had been, it was now searing him. His armor was helping some but not totally. He screamed as the heat licked at his flesh and he lost control of his trajectory.

---

Mr. Green watched and smiled as the kid rocketed off into the Pensylvania forests. Probably wouldn't do the kid in, but it would teach him some lessons about humility. No one liked being doused in napalm after all. He looked donw at his empty holster and grimaced himself. Next time, maybe less theatrics himself? He hadn't needed to turn his weapon into the substance. He shrugged and looked toward where Mr. Black still had the ITSDA soldiers pinned down. He then looked to where Squad Samus was aiming its LAW at the trailer. "Like opening a can of sardine..."

---

Juniper knew it was now or never and she leaped up and over her wall, summoning a golden shield as she did so, Thank god for Sherry being around. The thing was as tall as her and heavy, but protected her from head to toe phalanx style. She charged behind it and felt bullet ricocheting off it. They had to stop this before the trailer was compromised. Not just to prevent the escape but to save Harding and Sherry, more or less non-combatants. As she got closer, looking through the small window, she grinned. The man was looking worried and unloading pistol after pistol into her shield. Behind her, she heard the shouting of her men as they used the distraction to head for south flank.

Maybe the guy expected her to stop? Juniper had studied classic military tactics in school, so she knew about a shield charge and used it. She felt the impact as she slammed into the guy. For a second, it felt solid then she felt a lurching and a rolling as she lost her balance and toppled forward. The guy had, apparently, lost his own balance at the perfect moment and fell sideways. He had taken damage but not as much as possible. They fell side by side, staring at one another, and each felt the same thought ride naked through their minds, FUCK!" They both went for sidearms. Juniper's experience had her a second faster. She put the gun to his head and he froze mid-draw. Why she hesitated; she couldn't say. Perhaps it was her instinct as a police officer to take him alive if possible? Either way, she was about to demand surrender when her wrist exploded. Instead of shooting him or taking him prisoner, she howled in pain as her stump painted his surprised face red.

---

Black was on his feet in a second and pulled another gun which he aimed and fired twice. Center mass. Breathing heavily, he looked off to the distance then shrugged and walked away. A ways off, a Numbered Brethren exhaled slowly and relaxed after taking a shot. They had been watching and taking shots to help keep the soldiers pinned. Around him,his companions each held their breath and squeezed and for each such action, an ITSDA agent fell. None were mortal wounds, just incapacitating. Their orders were non-lethal protocols. Period. Still, if SA agents took a life that was none of their business.

---

Juniper groaned darkly as she came to. A second later, she was up and looking around, gripping the ruin of her hand to her chest. She felt a weight on her chest and looked down at where two bullets were lodged in the glowing, golden vest under her regular armor. She then looked around and saw the wreckage of the trailer smoking, a massive hole in the side of it, and no sign of her prisoners, Sherry, or Harding. The President was laying in the grass close by with a hole in his head. Her team was all bound to nearby trees except the dead. Phoenix was MIA. She shook her head and began to assess the losses even as an ITSDA force arrive to reinforce them exactly 39 seconds too late.

---

Far away, Laura exited out of tactical mode back into logistics mode and gave orders and thanks where needed. She s=fired off a short message to Dieter to notify him of the success.

(OOC: Would Captain Hall react like this under pressure, when she's blaming herself and Green for the death of her men? If not, I'll gladly rework this post.)


The cover behind Juniper Hall rattled and shook as lead shells impacted and flattened against it. That would be disconcerting enough. But with the knowledge that there was an entire truck's worth of armor between herself and her assailant and that the two Namidians, one president, and multiple non-combatant agents were trapped inside the truck, it was horrifying.

Fortunately, the bars on Junipers shoulder that denoted her rank of "Captain" weren't just for show. She'd already anticipated how to best turn the situation to her favor. Her first priority was to ensure that the Namidians didn't pen them in and gain control of the battlefield, her second was to ensure that their three prisoners survived to be interrogated. Only once those two objectives were assured did she have the luxury to worry about minimizing collateral damage and the damage her own team was likely to sustain.

"You, you and YOU! Return fire to the APC if any troops threaten to break cover! Everyone else, with me! We're moving that van out of the way!"

She called out to the other riders in her unit. Not every agent under her command was Gifted, but those who weren't were still more than capable in a scrap. She summoned her own Gift and began to expand the ITSDA's feeble cover into something more substantial by summoning several brick walls and concrete roadblocks in a rough ring around the cab-less truck.

"Crimson, get moving and clear our flank!- Captain Harding! Cover him!"

An agent crouched in cover by her side, a deceptively fair-featured blond. The boy shot her a keen "On it!" before leaving the cover of their truck and taking a running leap into the air. He left two burning footprints and an explosion in his wake as he dived high towards the Namidian gunman without so much as a shadow of hesitation, as though he was as comfortable storming the armored car as he would have been making a pot of coffee.

Earlier, one of the Namidians had called Phoenix Crimson a "simple predator" and June knew that he'd been right; Daniel's life had revolved around violence since the age of thirteen. And although his lifestyle had made him reckless and volatile, he had nonetheless become frighteningly good at his job. The APC full of Namidian storm troopers was no minor threat, but June knew that for sheer offensive power Daniel was the perfect weapon to tackle it.

She turned her attention away from the APC, and towards the other threat. The black van that had stopped them dead was only manned by a single gunman, but her training told Juniper that Dieter Sievold's private army was well trained, dangerously resourceful, and stocked full of Gifted lieutenants. With a terse set of orders she began directing her own troops, shoring up her defenses against multiple directions and gathering her troops' resolve for a counter attack...

---

"PHOENIX--!"

While Daniel dived toward the APC with an eager grin, his image was blurred and multiplied by the subtle perception field that Captain Harding had formed around him. As the distance between Daniel and his target closed, Mister Green swivelled his mounted gun away from the cluster of ITSDA agents and tried to clip the immediate threat. His hail of gunfire was immediately joined by scattered bursts from the Ghoul troopers who were racing down the vehicle's boarding ramp. Fortunately, all of their shots seemed to twist and distort harmlessly through Daniel's illusionary shield. Stored power built up in Phoenix's gloved hand and the latent energy behind his attack ignited the air surrounding him just before he struck.

"...PUNCH!"

The APC rocked back onto it's suspension as the side that Phoenix struck was lifted several feet into the air and crashed back down. Mister Green was jarred back and forth in his perch; he leaned away from his gun to stare into the APC's interior. Phoenix's first punch had hit with the force of an AT-gun, which was just enough to penetrate the vehicles multiple layers of armor. A horrific split of metal had bulged into the passengers' compartment. Mister Green had been briefed on Phoenix Crimson, and after he'd learned about Vivianne's unfortunate encounter with him, he'd taken it upon himself to learn more. Still, seeing the boy's sheer offensive power first hand was impressive.

He knew he'd have to end the fight quickly if he didn't want his escape vehicle to be totaled and end up sharing a recovery ward with his other lieutenants.

Just as he finished that thought and prepared to shout instructions to Squad Samus a second punch rocked the vehicle back on its wheels again, and this time the dented armor buckled completely inwards as Phoenix's burning fist broke through. Any Ghouls who hadn't yet evacuated the vehicle were thrown bodily off their feet and scattered throughout the passenger hold like salt in a shaker. Green's instincts suddenly screamed "Danger!" and with a start he realized that instead of drawing his fist back for a third punch, Phoenix was channelling his energy for an explosion.

"EVERYBODY OUT!" He ordered behind him, as he pulled himself out of the APC's mounted gun compartment and into the open air. The message reached the ears of his soldiers and the urgency in his voice forced the last of his reeling squad out of the boarding ramp only split seconds before Phoenix unleashed his next attack!

Both exit doors, the boarding ramp, the gunners hatch and the rend that his punches had opened all flared like a furnace as Daniel cooked the cab's interior with a violent burst of flame. The last soldiers to evacuate were punished with second degree burns down their backs, but were spared a sudden death by their quick reactions. Mister Green kicked himself away from the gunnery hatch just as a volcanic blast burst through the top of the APC.

"Samus. Green. Draw Phoenix Crimson into the open at all costs!"
A curt clipped voice run out across the Namidian's tactical systems, and those with the benefit of Ghoul helmets saw personalised individual orders superimpose themselves onto their vision. The tide of the battlefield shifted in a disturbingly perfect, mechanical fashion as Laura, one of Schwartze Augen's mission co-ordinators, exerted her influence. Her expert advice and uncanny ability to compose complex tactical situations were absolutely vital for the unit to function at peak efficiency, and had been the turning point of many battles before now. Given that each passing moment gave the ITSDA vital time to break their siege, her expertise was sorely appreciated.

Mister Green's earpiece buzzed and he nodded acknowledgement of his own orders. By trade he was a fixer, a smuggler, and a dealer - but it looked as though he'd have to take on a frontline role for this plan to succeed. With a resigned sigh, he stepped off the still-burning APC roof, drew his sidearm, and landed right in front of Phoenix Crimson.

"Hey! Hothead!" Green called Phoenix's attention. Normally, Green's style was more to talk softly but with weighted emphasis and subtle threat. But Laura demanded a distraction, and that's what he intended to provide.

"There's only one 'Crimson' I acknowledge. And she wanted you to hold onto these!"

Green raised his pistol and pumped the trigger.

Phoenix pulled his fist out of the stricken tank with a minor explosion and wrench of torn metal. A snappy retort touched his lips but the sight of Green's weapon hand tightening forced him to act before he could finish. He dove away with a power-assisted handspring that caused Green's first shot to breeze past him. Landing on his feet, he grasped the APC's driverside door and wrenched it off its reinforced hinges with a flash of thermite. Pulling it infront of himself and dropping to his knee, Phoenix felt his makeshift shield thrum with kinetic force as Green bounced a trio of bullets off the glass.

"Hah! Nice try!" He finished his taunt as he prepared to blast himself forward and tackle the gunman. "-but I've been beating up Namidians all day, and I don't feel like stopping an-" *BLAMNN!*

-"AUGHH!!"

A duo of Ghouls pounded around the front of the APC and brought their weapons to bear. A bullet slammed into Phoenix Crimson's shoulder and sent him reeling forwards. Ceramic splinters shot into the air and deep into his back as his armor failed to stop the bullet from slamming into his right arm's nerves. Roaring in pain, he pushed himself backwards into the two men before they could fire a second round and take them down. Slashing the one who'd shot him to the ground with a quick leg sweep, he followed that up by checking the man into several weeks of physical therapy with a quick heel stomp to the helmet. The second tried to step back to create enough distance to fire his weapon. But by the time he'd arrested his forward momentum, Phoenix had already stepped over his battered comrade and thrown the second Ghoul over his shoulder with an awkward judo throw. The man was lifted bodily off his feet and slammed headfirst into the pavement! Whilst Phoenix's armor sparked, Mister Green fired another opportunistic round of shots at him, only to fall short and hit the agent's human shied. Daniel dropped his injured foe and snatched the APC's door off the ground. In a rocket-powered bull rush, he ignored the screaming pain of his damaged limb and the sounds of Green's ammunition rebounding off his cover as he tried to finally take this bastard down.

BLAMNN!

Green saw a muzzleflash over Phoenix's right shoulder, and a microsecond later he heard the rifle's report wash past him as the back of Phoenix's armoured shin turn to ruby mist. The shot had come from the treeline that The Commander's snipers had occupied.

Throughout his eventful life Daniel had taken more than his fair share of injuries, and he recognised the worryingly familiar signs of going into shock. But he was no mere brute, he was a predator! Though this battle was lost, he knew how to take his prey down with him.

"Hahhh..." He half laughed, half groaned as he threw himself to the ground. "...Damn."

Mister Green reloaded his sidearm with an economic flick of his thumb and slam of a cartridge, before strolling over to ensure the defeated agent's demise with a final round to the head.

"Not a bad attempt..." Green reflected. "...but you can't expect to luck your way through every fight. You must have known it'd end this way, eventually."

"Mister... Green, right?" asked the downed hero.

Mister Green's mouth twitched its way into a smirk. The punk was still alive and begging to know his killer's identity, needing to know who it was who finally took him down. Normally, Green wasn't one to enable the hero's need to yammer, but he took pity on the kid.

"Yes," said Mr Green while he lined up his sights. In spite of his pity, he was intent on claiming revenge for the trouble that Phoenix Crimson had put his organization through today.

"Not anymore," said Phoenix calmly. He then used the last of his consciousness to bounce up to a crouch, ignite his rocket boots and his fist, and uppercut Mister Green.

Mister Green's hair and clothes ignited as he and Phoenix Crimson flew above and past the APC and hundreds of feet into the Pennsylvanian forests. Ultimately, Daniel collapsed as he and his opponent fell through the treetops and smashed their heads and limbs against the branches on their way back to Earth.

His opponent, however, wasn't so lucky. The uppercut and fall had left him conscious, but nearly mortally wounded. Both his arms and legs were paralyzed, maybe permanently. In his monstrous, blind rage, the mysterious Mr. Green finally unleashed his power. His alchemical ability, the Gift that allowed him to turn any material into another, let him transform the grass by his feet into water. Normally, this wouldn't be sinister but the water began flowing into the open mouth of the unconscious youth lying at his feet, threatening to drown the unconscious boy in mere minutes.

Mister Green would have his revenge, one way or the other.

---

Private Theodore Logan was a hard man, although not a superhuman. He had been rigorously trained by Schwartze Augen in both conventional military technique and specialized Counter-Gifted Combat. He didn't possess super strength or optic blasts or any other kind of Gift, but he had been trained on how to counter and destroy those who did.

That was why he felt no fear when he and his squad had been ordered to subdue an entire convoy of ITSDA superhuman agents with nothing more than the weapons they usually carried. For any other military force it would be a suicide order, but for Squad "Samus" it was a routine command.

"Green and his target are both down - you must advance, quickly."
Laura's voice pulsed its way through his Ghoul helmet, giving Logan's squad the order they had been waiting for. The squad's leader gave a simple hand signal as a confirmation that their orders were clear, and every member of his unit moved and acted in perfect unison:

First, Mister Black shifted form and stopped sending individual rounds at aimed individuals. Instead, he flipped the fully-automatic switch on his weapon and began pelting the pinned ITSDA agents, forcing them into deep cover.

Simultaneously, Logan and several other foot soldiers hustled from behind the cover of their shattered APC. They sprinted in a wide arc that took them around Mister Black's field of fire and into a sidelong flank with the trapped agents. Now with the lieutenant on one side, Logan's unit on the other, and The Commander's team of snipers and vehicles filling in the gaps, their quarry was well and truly trapped.

Laura's voice checked in again, ever helpful.

"Captain Juniper Hall has called every ITDSA operative remaining in Chicago for urgent assistance. The nearest responding agents are just over four clicks away. Our time buffer remains unchanged, but urgency status has been upgraded to 'Violet'."

In time with her announcement, Logan's enemies redoubled their own firepower. Bullets whizzed past him, and he shouldered his rifle to return the sentiment; his mask's optical display informed him that his rounds had found their mark and synchronized with his squad mates' own feeds and S.A's bank of handlers to suggest a new target. As bid, he fired a tight burst of rounds which sent his new target scampering for cover.

Despite the fact that the battle obviously wasn't in the their favor, Hall's soldiers were fighting like demons, doubtlessly thinking that if they dug in deep they might be able to hold out long enough for backup to arrive. Logan knew that their desperate effort was in vain. Surrounding and immobilizing their convoy was only the beginning of Samus's offensive.

The man to Logan's side hefted his M72 LAW Missile system over his shoulder and aimed in a high arc. The weapon was designed with anti-armor in mind, but had been restocked with High Explosive ammunition for this operation. With a sudden thunder strike of ignition, a warhead was sent square into the center of the ITSDA stockade.

The blast sent the defenders of justice reeling, and neither Logan or any of his squadmates missed their opportunity to break cover and storm their foes' position. Their charge had been planned and executed in exacting detail and Logan knew that all resistance would be neutralized within thirty seconds and all Namidians extracted within sixty.

---

Moments earlier, a bullet whizzed close enough to Juniper Hall's ear to make it ring, and a second round impacted off the brick wall she'd summoned as cover to shower her with shards of hard-light.

She peeled herself out of cover and cracked off a tight bust of bullets at the distant form of Mister Black, who didn't flinch as the deadly hail missed him by scant inches. Black leveled his weapon and returned fire, sending June back into cover.

"Damn it all!" she swore aloud. She didn't usually let herself get worked up during combat, but the situation was pressing against her hard and her options were shrinking by the second. Half her agents were either dead or dying, and what few remained were pinned from four sides and being picked off one by one.
In a situation like this it would either be total annihilation, or a close victory. In a flash, she decided to stake everything on one last counter-attack.

"Turn to face the West and North flanks! Get me a Grenade on that M.G! YOU! CONCENTRATE FIRE ON THE GHOULS - WE CAN'T HIT THE LONE GUNMAN FROM THIS R-"

*KA-BLAMNN!*

The end of her sentence was cut off as a wall of hot air buffeted past her, and Samus' HE rocket exploded in the midst of the ITSDA's ring of cover. One agent was thrown bodily into the air, whilst June saw another battered to the ground by shrapnel. She herself had stumbled and lost her balance. As she tried to pull herself together, her disoriented vision saw the bug-eyed helmet of a Schwartze Augen soldier rushing from his cover, vaulting over one of her barricades, and brutally kicking one of her reeling agents in the temple. The struck agent fell backwards in an insensible heap and the soldier turned to face her with malicious intent, but she'd be damned if she was going to go down without a fight.

She marshaled her wits through sheer force of will and tackled the Namidian grunt before he had a chance to ready his weapon. The pair both fell roughly to the ground and Hall summoned the first object she could think of (a brick) and clubbed the soldier over the head with it. The clubbing elicited a satisfying crunch and a shrill cry of pain from the soldier. A second SA commando came into view as he pounded his way around another section of cover and cluster of downed agents. She brought fourth a coil of chains around his ankles to trip him to the floor whilst her remaining hand shot to her hip to draw her sidearm, but halfway through the action her wrist was locked in a vice-like grip and twisted with a sickening pop of dislocation. A third soldier had charged her from behind. She only had a second to wince in pain and attempt to club him with her brick before the second target closed the distance and drove an iron-knuckled fist into her jaw.

Her world turned black.

---

Sherry huddled under the cab-less armored truck with her hands over her head, sure that at any moment a stray round would seek her out. The moment the fight broke out, she'd left the protection of her transport to assist on the front lines. Juniper had been furious that she'd put herself in danger, but realized that she didn't have the time to argue past Sharol's stubborn nature and begrudgingly allowed her to tend to battlefield injuries. The turning point in the battle had come when Phoenix and several other agents were lost and the damage started to pile up faster than she could repair. Despite Sherry's protests, Juniper had been adamant that she make herself scarce. The fact was, June stated, that if she was captured by Namidians the result would be far worse than simply losing their battle. Shouted down, Sherry had relented.

With a hollow echo, a last gunshot sounded and the motorway was suddenly silent. The constant hammering of lead, explosions, and screams of pain suddenly abated. From her position, she could see the armored boots of several Ghoul operatives worming their way through the battlefield toward her position. They stepped over the bodies of several wounded, dead, or dying agents and took up position around the truck's cargo door.

"It's deadlocked. Use the thermal lance," ordered one of the figures. Another stepped forward and started burning through the vehicle's composite armor with a device that sent sparks bouncing down into her hiding place. The other figures surrounded the intruder and settled into a braced posture that told Sherry that they had readied their weapons. She resisted her first urge to break cover and dive to the rescue, and instead crunched her eyes shut and silently prayed that the Namidians wouldn't simply shoot Captain Harding, Slick, and the ITSDA paramedics still trapped inside.

With a sudden rend of metal the door was pulled away, literally off it's hinges, there was the distinctive flash and ring of a concussion-grenade detonation, and the air was filled with aggressive shouts.

"Hands where I can see them! Surrender!"

Above her, the van rocked on it's suspension as the squad of armed men beat their targets into submission and roughly pulled the sedated Ash, Zenith and President Galvez out of their bonds and onto their feet. Zenith seemed to be the quickest to recover, and as he was part-guided and part-dragged back to the Mr Green's APC he managed to slur out a short statement.

"Thank you for the assistance... but we don't need to bring him with us..."

The group of extracting soldier stopped, and from Sherry's limited view she could see the pair hoisting the injured Brazilian president nod to each other and drop him heavily to the ground. His eyes were wide with terror, but they were glassed over an instant later when a single gunshot rang out and pierced his skull.

Sherry covered her mouth with her palm to stifle a startled scream of horror.

---

Tudor swivelled in The Commander's chair as he watched his virtual tactical map unfold. The symbol representing Dieter's APC filled with miniature portraits of Ash, Zenith, and several soldiers. They were shortly joined by Mister Black's marker as they extracted out. The portraits of his own forces, the Numbered Brethren, had already withdrawn from their sniper positions and were linking up with a getaway SUV at the next road.

With a tap and a scroll of his fingers on the chair's armrest, the map panned out to view the ITSDA forces; the nearest agents to respond to the prisoner transports urgent S.O.S would find themselves almost half a minute late. Once there, they'd find that almost half of the forces they'd been sent to rescue had been gunned down, while the rest were rendered combat incapable.

The Acting Commander smiled to himself. In his place, "The" Commander would doubtless fussed over details and berated himself for every minor fault of the operation, but Tudor considered this a successful outcome. The Namidian forces had only suffered minor casualties, whereas the ITSDA had suffered a brutal and harsh defeat. One that they wouldn't soon forget.

He sent a targeted message through the Namidian-net to Schwartze Augen's directors.

"Long range scans show no sign of pursuit. It's a clean getaway- mission accomplished."

He switched channels to his own units.

"N.B you are clear for extraction. We're done here."

"Not quite, Acting Commander--"

The room's speakers crackled with a calm, direct voice. Tudor recognized 'Laura' when he heard her.

"Have you secured Lieutenant Green? Or Phoenix Crimson? Or even Captain Hall?"

Tudor scoffed back at her. He had sent a team to recover their allies and kill their targets almost three minutes ago! And their scheduled minute report had arrived on time!

"Of course I have!"

"Then where are they?"

Tudor examined his tactical map carefully. The recovery team he sent had not yet reestablished contact with the targets. Suddenly, the team's portraits began to disappear.

"Backup! Backup!"

"No! I had won!"

---

Moments prior, Sherry crawled her way over to Captain Hall and placed her healing hands upon her CO's back. She then shushed the woman and pointed at the soldiers running into the woods. With quick, yet measured movements, the two began to tail the recovery team just as the Commander's other men began to clear the van's immediate area.

When the team finally came upon a corpse-like, yet conscious Mister Green and a sputtering, gasping Phoenix Crimson, Captain Hall's anger took control. A river of hard light spikes burst forth from the ground, stabbing the men in the back. Juniper's training prevented her from instinctively targeting the men's internal organs, but she wouldn't have cared if they died. They would pay. Schwarze Augen, The Commander. All of them.

Captain Hall ordered Sherry to heal Phoenix Crimson and Mister Green even as the soldiers were still howling in agony. She then handcuffed a dazed Green and had Crimson engulf dozens of trees in flame, hoping to short out their enemy's thermal sensors long enough to ensure that they could rendezvous with their reinforcements.

Though the broken Captain Hall ordered Sherry to "let them go" as she headed back to the battlefield with Green, Phoenix and the good doctor spent a few seconds healing the most critically damaged of the group before she and Phoenix returned to their Captain.

"When we get back," said Captain Hall with a hiss in her voice as she stared a hole through a subtly smiling Green. "You will tell us everything, or you will die. It's as simple as that."

Mister Green chuckled. Crimson stopped himself from punching a hole through the monster's back a second before he would have lit up his arm.

"No, no, no. That's not how you operate."

"Maybe not on the books," said Hall. "But we have secrets too..."

For once, the normally reassuring Captain Hall ignited fear in Sherry's heart. She didn't sound like she was bluffing...
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:17, Thu 24 Dec 2015.

Sherry was a gift to humanity, Daniel decided. Moments ago he'd been unconscious on the ground with two gunshot wounds, multiple broken bones, lungs full of water and most of his blood left splattered on the I-90. In short: inches from death. He was almost glad that he'd been in shock for the whole ordeal, at least it'd numbed the pain. When he'd been brought back to life the first thing he'd seen was Sherry pulling him into one piece, and he wasn't above admitting he felt a stab of infatuation toward her. Seconds later his mood turned to guilt as he remembered his promise to her not to take so many needless risks.
The promise had been doomed from the start, of course, but that wasn't the point.

"I owe you like... A million, Sherry." Phoenix felt the skin beneath the huge rend in his shoulders armor. "Not even a scar left..." He wondered appreciatively.

June was starting to worry him, though. He snapped his fingers at a nearby tree and reduced it to a flaming tower of lumber. Burning the Pennsylvanian forest didn't strike him as particularly heroic but it was at least for a smart cause, it was Junes assault on defeated prisoners that undermined his confidence in her. The knowledge that he'd suffered a humiliating defeat that'd cost the lives of several of his fellow agents stopped him from saying anything, however. He'd already made enough of an ass of himself without butting heads with his CO.

"There. That should keep us hidden." He nodded to his handiwork. "We should get moving, before more show up."

He rounded on Mister Green and The Commanders captured men angrily.
"I hope you assholes got what you wanted. After all the misery you've caused Chicago, there isn't a punishment severe enough for you."
He cut his rant short; after the defeat he didn't feel particularly threatening or heroic, and he decided not to waste his breath on hollow words.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:30, Sun 27 Dec 2015.

Mr. Green's finger twitched but his form remained still otherwise. He was still grinning as he was carted of towards some unknown location destined for some hinted at and promised interrogation. Soon a laugh slipped out and then a chuckle and finally a burst of raucous, boisterous laughter, "Hah! Do as you will then, but SA operatives are certainly prepared for anything you can dish up. You think ITSDA is the only one we have to deal with? The only one who might be willing to bend a few laws when the World Court isn't looking? Hah! If you think that for one second that I will be left to divulge anything of value that I know... you are sorely mistaken."

And with that the Namidian lieutenant fell eerily silent as he contemplated just what Dieter would do. He wasn't a particularly tenacious sort but he knew better than to say anything. He had been trained to resist not because of loyalty, but because the mroe that he could prove he could resist then the better chances he would be rescued rather than exterminated by SA. Loyalty was a premium in that organization, but no one thought of it as anything more than one more factor in the Boss' calculations.

---

Dieter reviewed the newest information coming in from the Boura operation and contemplated his next move. Mr. Green was an unfortunate casualty but the operation was an acceptable success. There had been far too many close calls in his operations lately. He tossed the report down on his desk and stood to walk to the one way glass window that overlooked the beer garden floor. He watched for a while as people moved about having a good time and analyzed the flow of the crowd to ease his mind.

Finally, he moved to his desk and took out an old-fashioned rolo-dex and leafed through the cards marked with strange, alien pattern until he found one and pulled it out. He dialed a number slowly and waited for the other end to pick up then spoke a few lines of code to an answering machine. He then hung up and went back to looking out the window.

---

On the far side of the world from the mastermind, his twin watched dots on a screen speed across Pennsylvania toward various locations. The operation was a success by most measures, but he knew that his think-tank would not agree. He did not agree. HE regarded the flashing green light in the "lost" column and grimaced. He then eyed the blinking red light on that phone and knew that a decision had been made. He could guess what it was but picked up the phone and listened anyway. He blinked in surprise then nodded at the decision. It had been shocking not in its nature but in the asset assigned.

He then sent out instructions to have the rescued Namidians transported directly to Curacao where they could recover in SA medical facilities if necessary. Mr. Black was directed back to Boura to shutter operations there for now. The man was capable but not the man MR. Green was. Dieter grimaced and he moved resource, make calls, and eyed the war-zone that was Gaultown on another screen.

Tudor collapsed into Commanders command throne heavily and looked at the multi-screened display infront of him anxiously.

"Damn it!"
He exclaimed furiously, and thumped his fist hard into the seats armrest. In a strict definition he had 'won' this engagement; his objective had been accomplished, and although several men from his response team were calling in to report injuries it seemed as though the ITSDA were content to only take the unfortunate 'Mister Green' as their prisoner. Still, the fact that several keys agents had managed to slip through his security measures and upset his plans at the last step soured the taste of his victory.

Tudor unclenched his fist and raised it carefully off the thrones armrest. Instead of slamming it down a second time he carefully tapped at a concealed keyboard- and delivered orders for his wounded recovery team to be driven out of the area.

"...return main screen to the Gaultown situation."
Tudor sighed wearily. Engaging across multiple fronts was a headache, and Commander Himself wouldn't be happy to learn that some of his soldiers had been beat up. Still, a result was a result, and the situation could have ended far worse.

Crimson, Sherry, June and their unfortunate prisoner extracted out from the area.

"So... Did the Namidians manage to free Ash and Zenith?"
Phoenix held a finger to his mask, and used it's inbuilt radio to pester his mission handler with questions and to fill in the gaps of his knowledge.
"Well... shit... what about President Galvez?"
He didn't like the answers he was getting back.
"No! And after everything I went through to keep him alive, as well!... What about the other Agents, how bad is it?!"
His headsets mumbled answer stopped him in his tracks, and set his expression into a crestfallen look of misery. He stopped asking questions after that.

Their communication channels told them that second-wave response Agents had already begun to pick through the battlefield surrounding the downed prisoner transport and to tend to the injuries of the few survivors that remained there, however the area was still considered too contested to risk bringing the Namidian back the way June and Sherry had come. Instead, the group picked their way through the wooded countryside to a separate section of highway where a new transport waited to bring them the rest of the way.

With their combined injuries, and the tension of keeping an eye out for potential attackers as well as keeping their captive well guarded, the walk was less than pleasant. When he finally collapsed into the hold of the ITSDA's replacement van Phoenix was grateful for the few minutes of rest that he'd be able to steal before he was delivered to the ITSDA's camp on the city outskirts. Sherry's gift and sheer stubbornness had kept his blood boiling for this long, but he'd been fighting on borrowed strength for most of the day- and when exhaustion finally hit, it hit hard.

---

"Crimson, wake up."
Daniel felt someone shaking his shoulder, but that seemed like a distant issue. More importantly it felt like his eyelids were made of lead, and that if he were to stand up he'd immediately fall over again. He decided to ignore the unknown voice.
"Mmhm?- [Pergi dr]!"
He slurred half consciously in Malay, seconds before the toe of a combat boot drove itself into his shin and persuaded him to get up after all.
"The brass want you for a post-mortem report. Once you've explained yourself there's a bunk set aside- You'll need it. Since Jump's occupied, and the situations too volatile for us to pull out the city, It'll be a while before you can get shipped back to NYC."
Daniel thanked the stranger for the information and for getting him up, even though he didn't feel particularly grateful for either, and then tried to find what served as the temporary camps communication system so that he could make his report.

"Once you've explained yourself..." Those words from the conversation stuck with him. Doubtless his senior Agents would want to be to be told about the entire attack in exacting detail; and even if they didn't try to find a way to pin some of the blame onto Phoenix the exchange could still take hours. Great.
Working as a government sanctioned superhuman had it's perks, but at least as a vigilante Phoenix Crimson never had to justify his actions or get tied down in bureaucracy.

---

Time passed, and too soon it was the next morning. Daniel woke up on a crash-mat, inside some kind of medical tent that he had no memory of entering. Despite his soured mood over the last nights harsh defeat Phoenix felt to be in physically great shape, or at least he did for someone who'd taken a laundry list of injuries less than a day ago.

Whatever Daniel felt like, he didn't look it. His jumpsuit was pockmarked with acid pits, scorches and shrapnel rends- and covered completely in ash or blood from a variety of sources. In places the kevlar undersuit had been shredded almost completely off, and in others it was slashed and scraped out of form. His trademark scarf was little more than a distant memory, and the remains of his armoured flight suit were cratered with bulletholes and burned out beyond repair. He scrambled for a mirror, and made a distressed noise of shock as he found that his face and hair had been streaked with the same filth covering his armour.

Bullet holes were fine, but he wouldn't be able to let himself be seen in public with his complexion ruined! To the disdain of many of his peers Phoenix Crimson had a vain weakness for showing off to the media, and when he played his celebrity games he played to win.

He got up with surprising urgency, and started searching through the tent. As he desperately started wondering where the hell he could find a bottle of conditioner in the ITSDA relief camp his eye's picked out a gym bag by the foot of his makeshift bed that made him from grin ear to ear. Some star had made sure his bug-out bag from the NYC HQ had been included in the one of the camps supply shipments!
Most Agents like Phoenix had some cache of emergency weapons, items or gadgets that they could bring into the field to replace any damaged or lost gear on extended missions- although Phoenix's was probably unique in that it was packed mostly with petty cosmetics. The bags were meant to be used to only transport the most urgent essentials, but Daniel had never been known for his sound sense of priorities...

---

A Crimson figure walked it's way casually out from the ITSDA's guarded compound, flicked a fresh red scarf over a shoulder that was clad in new unblemished armour, grinned eagerly, and tapped a finger against the side of it's headset mask.

"Crimson, reporting in! What's on the menu today?"

"Dan! Did you get the bag I sent down?"
The voice on the other side was light and bubbly, which was a stark change from the hard and practical voices that most ITSDA mission handlers seemed to adopt. Daniel immediately recognized the voice of 'Carol', and he mentally cheered. Besides having an eye for detail and a quick mind Carol was one of the few mission handlers who didn't mind enabling Phoenix's over the top style, and the two were known to perform well together. She was one of the few people that 'Dan' didn't mind using his wrong name on the job. -and from Phoenix's point of view missions were always a lot more fun without someone scowling down his mask every time a little property got damaged.
"I did! You saved me a lot of trouble, thank you!"
Phoenix's cocky grin turned to something genuine. He was already starting to get a good feeling that he could put the last days misfortune behind him.

"Unfortunately, Dan, the ITSDA want to keep a low profile in Chicago. Some parts of the city are still evacuating, and they don't want to start a Namidian scare by throwing Gifted around carelessly."
Carol didn't sound concerned, and Phoenix even fancied that he could hear a little of his own conceit working it's way into her tone.
"If you wanted me to keep a low profile why did you send me a new scarf and a set glowing armour?"
He spoke, brightly. He already knew the answer.
"Well-l-l..." Carol drew out and inflected the word as she feigned innocence. "...If the higher-ups really wanted to stop panic from spreading they'd make sure they had a reassuring Hero front and centre, right? On your map I've highlighted a looting in progress that the media are using in all their coverage. Up and at 'em."
This message was last edited by the player at 09:59, Wed 27 Jan 2016.

SEASON 2

For all it's lawlessness, Boura nonetheless operated on a series of unspoken rules. No one really 'ruled' Boura, but it's lack of law enforcement and high density of the criminal class had still given rise to a kind of informal hierarchy where the most dangerous of it's residents exerted influence over their weaker peers. Residents of the outlaw city either abided by such rules, and stayed out from under the feet of the 'big fish', or met with interesting ends.

Everyone knew not to set up shop downtown, where the battle that had initially levelled the city had been the fiercest. Visitors and non-residents tended to head there first, and no one wanted them to find anything that might otherwise draw attention.

Everyone knew that you should only approach the three-tall structure in oldtown if you had business. Claiming territory near the location was... discouraged.

Everyone knew that if you saw a group of vehicles, surrounded by armed men, blasting loud music, that it was an exchange of illegal goods. It was not advised to stay to watch how the proceedings played out, since characters involved in such activities seldom appreciated the attention.

-But over the last month or so a new rule had been established. One circulated by rumour and tall tales.
Everyone knew that if you saw red eyes watching you from what used to the be the city's nightlife district that you turned around to walk somewhere else. Rumours claimed that a new Gifted had claimed the area, and that any attempt to disturb her would be met with merciless force. Every attempt to verify these rumours by scouting and stealth had failed, which in and of itself was confirmation on it's own.

---

Oculus sat on a cloud of her familiars, which supported her mid air and buzzed through every corner of her club. Well, it had been somebody's club, once. Now it was more like a hive. One of her hands trailed lazily through the air, spitting out 'Sentrys' as it went, and the other tapped quickly over a notebook computer perched on her lap. Nearby a squadron of her drones were working together to keep a can of cheap beer within her reach.

The last two months had been interesting for her. She had been uncertain and unconfident with her abilities when she'd first used them, but now she had practice under her belt. Her eyes had penetrated every corner of the country and even now in some places beyond. She had been tracking down information like a bloodhound, and her new method made her old attempts at subterfuge seem bumbling and incompetent. After a long period of waiting and ammasing her strength she felt certain that now was the time for her to strike again.

An email pinged in her inbox, and a thin smile settled on her lips.

>From: Pierre. Subject: Major Namidian information cells.

A figure half walked, half climbed, over what had once been a multistory carpark. Nowadays it more resembled a huge towering mound of ruined concrete and rebar. The figure took a gulp from a travel canteen hanging from his side, and used the vantage point the ruin offered to get his bearings. In a lot of ways travelling Boura by foot was a lot more like survivalist hiking, than any kind of civilised walk. Certainly that was the case here, where the rubble was too thick to admit any vehicles to pass through.

The traveller wasn't the only one casting his gaze around. His eyes caught something watching him from the rubble beneath his feet, and he knelt down to appraise a small metal sphere that was returning the glare with an unblinking red pupil. He offered it a grin.

"Heya' little fella'. I've been searching for someone like you..."

The sphere shot up from the ground with sudden force, and hovered a few inches from his face. It's pupil narrowed into a blazing pinprick in, what the hiker assumed, was meant to be a warning.

"No. I'm not leaving. I want to speak with the person watching me right now."

The ground beneath his feet shifted, and dozens of miniature dust eruptions shot spheres into the sky around him. The entire ruin was seeded with the things! Each turned it's focus on him and the traveller quickly counted that he was surrounded by almost a hundred of the threats. He knew that many, many, more could be here in seconds- but the number already watching him was more than sufficient to carry out whatever guard duties they had been assigned. He bit his lower lip anxiously, but without saying anything he very slowly reached behind himself and pulled a computer tablet out from his travel bag. It flickered to life.

"Oculus, Peace. The man speaks for me. You're a difficult woman to find." The screen showed a pissed-off looking man dressed like some kind of historical general. He spoke carefully, and with measured words.

A moment passed as the eyes sat motionless, before they finally drew back far enough to take some of the tension from the scene. Eventually a pair of new drones made their entrance; one was a speaker, and the other had the ability to render Oculus as a crude red and black hologram. She appeared to hover infront of Commanders minion, her pupils burning impatiently even through a pair of thick sunglasses.

"That's deliberate, Commander. I don't make public appearances if I can't help it."
"I can respect that."
"What do you want? Information? Be specific."

If Oculus's brusqueness annoyed him Commander didn't show it. Business was the only thing on his mind for the moment.

"I need a rumour verified. The word is that some bright sparks have been putting their Gifts to good use- but that their latest developments are reminiscent of the late David Ort's 'Ring of light'. I would like to know whether such a device exists, and if it's a threat."

The corner of Oculus's mouth raised in a slight smirk.
"You're not planning to stand in the path of progress, are you Commander? Don't you think you're a little... understaffed... to start imposing your will on the rest of the world?"
"I will if it suits me. Mister Ort's blunder cannot afford to be repeated."
Commander responded icily.
"Ort's blunder created us. It's created worse, even, and still continues to do so."
"And what do I get for sharing my hard-earned information?"
Commander's image tapped a few keys offscreen, and a monitor placed behind him lit up.
"I am willing to give you a 'spectator' account to view the Namidian darknet. No data upload capabilities, and low level access only, but i'm sure that you'll find a use for just the surface information all the same. You did NOT get it from me, or even hear of it's existence. The account has one week before it's credentials expire."
"You could get in real trouble with 'Big N' for handing out something like that."
"A duplicitous Namidian? Perish the thought."
Commander inflected sarcasm, before returning to his flat business speech.
"-it's a good thing for both of us that this conversation isn't happening, then. Do we have a deal?"
Oculus considered the offer for a moment before nodding her head. It was a good deal, and Commander wasn't the type of man who would tolerate haggling over his demands.
"It's a deal. Here's what I know..."

Oculus told him what she knew, although she was careful not to let any unpaid for details slip. She spoke of a woman called 'Faye' and her accomplishment at CERN, and that the subjects of her released Academia journals circled around Human Genome Project, Applied Astrophysics, and Theoretical Physics. Most importantly she noted that a huge gross of grant money as well as private investments had been applied to her latest project- which was the source of the rumours that'd concerned Brett. When Commander asked if the device was a threat Oculus had to admit that she couldn't provide an answer.
"...The device has yet to have it's capabilities fully realised, and it's applications are too broad to suggest that's what they're working on."
"-or put another way; too broad to assume that that's not what they're working on. Not good enough, Oculus, I need more information."
Oculus sighed with mild frustration. She didn't have any more information worth sharing, but she did have rumours...
"The device is housed within the University of California, but it's too closley gaurded for me to gain entrance. You might have more luck- but rumours say that it's due to be relocated to Seattle, and that the project is likely to merge with the labs of a man named Brian Jameson. Have you heard of him?"
"Yes. He's been defending the ITSDA on the news, lately. His actions suggest that he's putting his own team of Gifted together, one who's main focus is on human advancement rather than political peacekeeping. I sincerely wish him well."
"...so long as he stays out of your way, I assume?"
"Yes. Obviously."

Their business concluded, and Commander passed Oculus the details of her payment. The eyes departed, and the Hiker marched back the way he'd come.

Commander considered this new development. If Faye's device was to be moved it would present a one-time chance for him to scrutinise it, and judge whether it was safe to allow it to remain on his planet. If the device could be used to manufacture cheap nuclear material, gravitational singularities, or trigger another 'Mass-Awakening' event he would have no choice but to act decisively...
Faye and her associates undoubtedly possessed far more fearsome intellects than Brett's, and he saw no shame in admitting that fact, but it didn't change that they were still human. Humans erred, it was fundamental to their nature. Worse than that; Faye, Brian, and the rest, were Gifted. Commander knew firsthand that even the most intelligent or iron-willed Metahumans held an urge to act on specific impulses, and that the drive to accomplish their goals caused them to act irrationally more often than not.
The Commander would not tolerate the supercollider's existence if it put his human race at risk- no matter the scientific possibilities.

Oculus looked over her new source of information, and continued her work. Her goals were smaller and less idealistic than The Commanders, but would require no less effort to implement. She got right to it.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:39, Wed 15 June 2016.

Brett slapped the side of his neck, and irately paced back and fourth in front of his men.
“Fucking Mosquitoes.” He complained to no one in particular. He paced his restless circuit again and wondered if the twinges he felt on his skin were really the work of insects, or just his imagination. He was certainly feeling twitchy enough to make that mistake. Besides; mosquitoes shouldn’t have had any business here in the dead centre of Bouras once great football stadium, which now lay parched and neglected.

He strode before a foldable camping table strewn thickly with loose leafs of paper. Over a dozen of men and women from his bodyguard patrolled around him, and even further afield a small but nimble-looking VTOL lay parked with gently idling engines. By the desk three figures knelt on their knees and shuffled uncomfortably against the cuffs clamped around their wrists and the bags obscuring their faces. Hostages.

In a few minutes Brett would need to consider execututing them, as well as his fourth hostage that he'd placed elsewhere. That’s what he’d threatened to do if the ITSDA and GTF ignored his parley attempt, and his threat was no use without the will to carry it through.

Commander desperately hoped that it wouldn’t come to that. He knew that the four deaths would weigh heavily on his already burdened conscience, but he also knew that- if he had to- he would still pull the trigger.  The last time he’d forced himself to kill someone his post trauma flared up, and he hadn’t slept for over a week. No wonder his mind was inventing phantom insects to plague him; it didn’t want to think too closely on the real problems he saw himself facing.

He was certain that his message had been intercepted by now, which only gave the forces of justice a paltry half-hour to act. Even by supersonic Songbird jet the distance from Seattle to Boura was not insignificant, and Commanders hair-thin schedule had been a deliberate maneuver to keep his intellectually Gifted enemies from drawing up any clever plans. That was his hope, at least. He was certain that if he gave the GTF any opportunity at all to incarcerate him without putting his hostages at risk that they’d take it- but at the same time he felt that the risk he was taking by conducting the exchange at all was a necessary one.

The Tactician in Brett suggested that if both parties played nice and didn’t do anything stupid that everyone would stand to gain something from the encounter. There was no reason at all for anyone to deviate from the terms he had laid out.

The Namidian in Brett scoffed at the idea, and Commander berated himself for even thinking that everything (no, anything) would follow his plans exactly. He counted down the contingency measures in his head to ensure that he hadn’t overlooked anything.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:33, Wed 07 Dec 2016.

"I have secured the hostage as you requested, in a place I assure you none but myself can reach. They are unharmed and well, of course until you say otherwise."

The voice belonged to a figure who was standing immediately next to Brett on the right, a space that had been unoccupied an instant before. The figure wore a closed  overcoat of high quality, a wide brimmed hat that left their face in shadow, and mirrored sunglasses. He looked around the stadium idly, while still speaking;

"A personal squad of armed soldiers on active patrol, a VTOL with the engine running, and the hired services of a reality manipulating teleporting criminal; I must admit that I'm not sure if you're a very prepared man, or simply paranoid..."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:16, Fri 09 Dec 2016.

Commanders fingers twitched reflexively towards one of his many holsters as Ivan appeared and spoke, before he caught the action and forced his hand away again. Brett was behaving twitchy! Even though the Namidian general had expected the hitman to report in his senses were still strained to anticipate the slightest hint of trouble.

"It's not paranoia if they really are out to get me."
He countered to Ivan.
"-and they ARE out to get me. I promise you."

He turned and regarded the man with an appreciative nod. He hoped that Ivan's services would not be needed, but his presence here would be absolutely vital if the GTF decided to turn out in force. Despite Ivan's words the single jet and bodyguard unit would not slow down the likes of Vandal or Faye for very long. UnGifted soldiers were the staple of Commanders military, and they had served him admirably, but he was only too aware that their usefulness rapidly diminished when deployed against the likes of Frank Jackson or Brian Jameson.

"With a little luck this should be a straightforward contract for you. If things turn sour I want the first priority to be the extraction of my men and equipment, rather than retaliating against the GTF."
This request had already been a part of Ivan's contract, and Commander was sure that Ivan was professional enough to stick to his word, but Commander also thought that the point bore repeating.
"Gifted agents have always had an annoying sense of irony, after all. I'd hate to end up with one of my own men becoming a hostage themselves."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:20, Fri 09 Dec 2016.

The Albino turned his hidden eyes to The Commander.

"If you are so worried about their safety, then why involve them at all? It would have been child's play for me to grab Meta, and take him to any location you might pick to be waiting for him at. No time to prepare, plan, just one place one moment and the next face to face with you. I could return him just the same, quick and quiet.

"As your men's safety, if I could not be counted on to do my job we would not be having this conversation would we Commander? I would think you would be keeping Mister Dieter company, enjoying some bland prison gruel."

"Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn't... Maybe the ITSDA's prison isn't as secure as they'd like it to be."

Commander smirked knowlingly. The expression looked strange on his particular set of features.

"If we kidnapped Mister Jameson I doubt that he would be very co-operative. This job requires a diplomatic touch."
A shurg, and then a wince as shifted his weight onto his bruised ribs.
"Besides, I've went to a lot of trouble to capture these hostages. I want to get some use out of them before they're given away."

Commander organised some of the loose leafs of paper on his desk that he'd disturbed and analysed during his wait. They seemed to be a strange mixture of technical graphs, mathematical projections, and pages of documentation. What he intended to use them for was a mystery, but there could be little doubt that it involved Faye's rumoured 'ring' device.

"I permitted Jameson and Loveliss to bring a bodyguard. Giving them the assurance that they weren't walking into an ambush seemed like a good idea at the time, but on reflection I wonder if I was being too kind..."
Commander chattered away and discussed strategy aloud. He checked a shatter-proof watch lashed to his wrist nervously and eyed his hostages again. Time was running out.
"Vandal is probably their most valid option if they're committed to turning this into a fight, but the magician would be their smartest choice if they wished to guarantee the hostages safety. Then again, they might surprise me and bring someone unexpected."
Commanders expression darkened slightly.
"If they decide to bring Jackson I may need to cut the talk short. That man offends me on a personal level, and I owe him a few bullets on behalf of Cimmeria and my 'Keepers'."

"If they intend to turn this into a fight, I would think all three would be used. The girl could be miles away and here in seconds if needed, while the magician can teleport. Meta is an intelligent man, no doubt he could make a commination device that would work even if you had some sort of jammer active. Then he could call them in, and after witnessing what the trio did at the Gaultown location, I can understand your worry.

"However, while Vandal is fast I move at the speed of thought itself. Their magician can teleport and manipulate reality, yet he wastes time with showmanship and unlike myself has a hero's failing of restraining himself from doing whatever needs done to accomplish a goal. The old man, all that can be said for him is he can take a beating and has some mundane skills aided by luck."

Ivan grew silent for a moment, and when again he did speak his usually monotone voice held a tinge of curiosity to it.

"In World War One, there was a very skilled German pilot by the name of Baron Von Richthofen. By the time he was shot down, he had achieved to his fame at least eighty kills. After he was dead, his enemies honored him with a full military funeral.

"Cimmeria is a deadly opponent to face, and attacked a civilian location of no military importance of her own free will. Your Keepers were trained for combat, and armed. There is a War being waged, and casualties are inevitable result of such an event. Frank Jackson have not only survived but overcome staggering odds more than once, and despite being on an opposing side I would think as a fellow Soldier you would hold some respect for him. Instead there is animosity, so might I ask why?"

"Cimmeria was an unrepentant assasin. The few times that we've interacted we got along well, but I've always known that it could only be a temporary arrangement. Our ideals were simply incompatible, and Jackson's saved me a lot of trouble by taking her out."
Commander confirmed bluntly.
"Likewise, Jackson exterminated my soildiers in open battle. Even if I don't like it, I can't judge him for protecting himself and his teammates."

"Your analogy to the Baron misses an important mark, however."
Commander turned his glare onto Ivan, and his tone took on a serious and unyielding edge.
"I don't respect Frank because he's a fellow soldier. It's the opposite, in fact. I loathe war with an intensity that's hard to put into words... my dislike for Jackson is purely ideological."

"My goal is to engineer a world which doesn't need monsters like him, or myself. Although I'll practice violence I also try to keep the damage I cause to a minimum. World peace... but by any means necessary."

Commander looked anxiously at his watch again. The forearm beneath it was marked by the scars sustained during the Gaultown incident, as well as a faded but instantly recognisable black tattoo. The tattoo was done in stylised text, and simply read 'Semper Fi'.

"Jackson, on the other hand, does not limit himself. He fights dirty when it pleases him, and kills whoever finds themselves in his sights without variation or mercy. He frequently uses warcrime-grade expanding ammunition against soildiers without even a quarter of his experience, and none of his invulnerability. He could walk into a battlefield armed with nothing more than a duffel bag full of handcuffs and still come out victorious, but choses not to... and he still has the GALL to claim the moral high ground!"

Commander slammed his palm on the table to illustrate the anger that'd begun to boil over within him. His voice had raised at the same time as he'd begun to lose his composure. The Namidian took a deep breath, recollected himself, and pulled his peaked military cap at a low angle over his eyes as though to hide the fact that he'd felt anything at all.

"...Not that I'm in any position to claim any kind of moral authority either, of course."

"The reason why I feel so strongly against him is that Jackson seems to represent everything I find rotten about the world. He spent his youth murdering who he was told, he's spent his awakening murdering to cover his personal tragedies, and in a thousand years he'll still be here... murdering our great-great-great-grandsons and granddaughters. I judge that to be an absolutely inexcusable lack of ambition."

Brian and the team worked their way through the rubble towards the collapsed side of the stadium. From there he waved like a madman at the Commander's team to signal it was them and not some random Boura denizens.

As he approached, he put his hands up as a sign he had no weapons of his own. He also wasn't in the mood for grandiose sentiments at this point, though he had been waxing philosophical over the last ten minutes. He simply cut to the chase as they approached. "We've come to take these people Commander, so tell us what this is about."

The Namidian warlords posture stiffened as he caught sight of Brian approaching. He put himself back onto high alert and diverted his mind away from the ideological thoughts he'd shared with Ivan and back onto the business at hand.
...despite his concentration he felt relaxed, or perhaps simply relived; He probably wasn't gong to have to kill any hostages today.

"Mister Jameson. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such... short notice."

The center of the football stadium was a ruin, but a competitively clear one compared to anywhere else in Boura. Notably only three of Commander's four hostages were visible. The combination of open sports grounds, and dense dilapidated stands surrounding them on all sides, suggested that Commander had probably hidden long range security personnel in addition to the few men surrounding him. None of Commander's men had raised their weapons to the GTF, but their wary manner suggested that they were all prepared for the worst.

"I will surrender my guests into your custody once we've discussed a few important matters, as promised in my message."

Brett looked over the group, counting the number of people Brian had brought along. A scowl touched his face.

"You've brought a bigger bodyguard than I expected. I hope for your sake that you weren't planning to need it. Where is Doctor Loveliess?"

 Meta made a dubious expression, "This young lady is Ms.Loveliss's proxy, she can be addressed as Brighteyes," Brian let a corner of his mouth grin at what Faye nicknamed Gwen, "and our two bodyguards Black Magic and Vandal, per your express instructions. Ms.Loveliss couldn't be here today."

 Brian swept a hand across his stubbled chin. Four of the hostages were being kept out of sight and for good reason, Black Magic or Vandal could easily sweep them up before the Commander could utter a word. Brian surveyed the crowd of Namidians and their minions as they flanked the Commander. He thought about telling the commander all about his anger that the project and Faye were dead, that they would've shared their discoveries with the world. Instead he gritted his teeth and swallowed his words.

 "So that important stuff you mentioned?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:58, Fri 23 Dec 2016.

For her part, Gwen remained silent; although her face was set firmly in a scowl of disapproval. Fortunately for the Commander and his men, her brain remapping kept the lethal edge from that mood. Simply standing here, without tapping into her Gift, she could feel each person's thoughts and moods, could trace the lines of their focus and attention. As with all humans, their individual psyche affected the world around them, imperceptible vibrations filling the quantum 'space' between them; and similar to a spider in her web, Gwen had learned to read those vibrations and interpret them. As things stood, she simply monitored those arrayed around them, Commander in particular; yet should any of them even think for a moment of attacking or using Gifts, she would turn them all into gibbering children with a thought of her own. The time for peaceful interaction was long past. Gwen and Faye both had been pulled into this conflict, had entered it playing by a specific set of rules. With Faye gone, so too were the rules...
This message was last edited by the player at 20:05, Fri 23 Dec 2016.

"Doctor Brighton is an acceptable proxy, Mister Jameson."

Gwens Gift wasn't necessary for Brian to guess that Commander hadn't been amused by the switch-around. The stress he put into their respective names and titles rather than using their pseudonyms made that much obvious, and the not-so-subtle hint that he'd already done his homework on the GTF almost seemed like a veiled warning not to try anything further.

Gwens Gift did uncover a wealth of other data, however...

Commanders soilders were alert, but not on edge- they seemed to have already memorised their orders, and were focused solely on performing their respective tasks. No underhanded killing instinct could be sensed from them, although their cold sense of professional detachment sent up another set of warning flags altogether.

Commander himself, however, was a different matter entirely. The man's mind was dense with activity in such a way that it almost polluted the metaphysical psychic air around him, and although Gwens 'passive' mind-reading Gifts wouldn't be enough for her to snatch any fine details from his subconscious she would be left with the impression that the Namidian warlord couldn't silence his thoughts even if he had tried... The only time she might have seen such a mind was around other Gifted, who's thoughts had become so clouded by their obsessions that there was very little room for their original personalities to remain in. The intensity of Brett's intelligence wasn't derived from natural genius or willpower, but was a mere side effect of a his paranoid delusions and unsilencable ambition. It was the kind of insane ambition that had ensured that The Commander remained a major thorn in the ITSDAS side, and a major player in the Namidian organisation, even despite his comparably weak Gift compared to most of their other threats.

Commanders eyes flitted from Vandal to Black Magic, his thoughts pounded hard for a moment, and then Gwens sensed something unexpected...  A very slim flicker of satisfaction. The two bodyguards presence did not seem to perturb him; perhaps he had anticipated their involvement.
His eyes flickered onto Gwen, his thoughts raced hard for a moment as the tactical genius's mind accounted her into his calculations. She sensed annoyance radiate from the man, and then... Nothing! For almost a full second his loud thoughts froze entirely! A moment later they resumed, and at their same desperate haste. Gwen would be smart enough to realise that Commander had just used his Gift on himself mentally- doubtlessly in an attempt to scour his own psyce for possible intrusions. Trying to sneak a look into his direct consciousness could be risky if he was actively expecting and guarding against an intrusion in such a way!

"I assume your time is valuable, so I won't waste it."
Said Commander, straightforward and aloud. He waved a finger in the air and a moment later one of his three visible hostages was pulled carefully to their feet by one of Commanders henchmen. The bag was removed from their head along with all restraints barring their handcuffs.
"First, a show of good faith. You can have one of my prizes early, so that your bodyguards can satisfy themselves that the hostages are who I say they are- and that I haven't abused them, or fitted them with explosives, or anything else along those lines."
The hostage was handed to Black Magic. The soildier who transfered the prisoner was a young-looking sandy haired man with a pair of wicked looking Kbar knives strapped to his bulletproof vest. The sneer that he gave the performer suggested that they might have met before.

"I've asked you here to discuss your 'ring' project. I am sure that you know which project I mean."
A sweep of Commanders arm indicated the table beside him. Among the myriad notes on it were a number of rough and incomplete schematics that seemed to bear a worryingly close resemblance to the device that had caused everyone at the table so much strife so recently. It was as though Commander had tried to peice together an understanding of the machine through Chinese whispers and guesswork.
"Is it true that you were able to maintain and study a gravitational singularly for an entire four seconds? The first time a feat like that has succeeded, I believe. You must be very proud."

OOC: Reflex to Brett using his Gift xD Twas a good post, but you covered a lot of ground. The question is... does tinnitus kick off non-cannons?

Gwen silently studied the man as he addressed them, passively watching his mind slide around through perspectives as he took them all in. For a moment, Gwen felt the temptation to untangle all the lines and threads; intricate games like blacksmiths puzzles and other abstract reasoning devices had always been among her favorites to solve. Commander's mental state reminded her of such things, albeit on a far more complex level. Still, she had only too recently been drawn into a mind more chaotic and powerful than her own and was not too keen on the idea of risking a second such event. Even so, she picked a name from the swirl as a self-identifying thought manifested... Brett. That would be his name, she thought as his eyes swept to her.

She had an instant warning before his mind went blank as his mental state suddenly shifted. In the same instant every ear in attendance was filled with a loud, high-pitched squealing; every ear, that is, except for Brett's. Since Brian had stated that they had to hear this man's words for his Gift to work, Gwen had prepared a countermeasure. Regardless of the state of mind of his henchmen, this man held all the strings here. The countermeasure she had devised was non-lethal and familiar to all present, simply psychically flick the inner ears of most present. At the same time, she conceptualized a powerful barrier and put it a reflex away from being. It would be clear after a moment she had used her Gift, as the ringing faded after the Commander mentioned something about time.

"From what I understood of your message, Gifts were off the table," Gwen stated quietly before he continued, face remaining impassive despite a voice filling with menace. "You should know I'm the countermeasure to you here today, tactician. Next time you test your own rules, you will be a Commander of one."

Satisfied there was no misunderstanding, Gwen returned to silence, seemingly ignoring every person present but the one man who bore her icy gaze.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:38, Sat 24 Dec 2016.

 Brian raised a hand in a possibly pointless gesture to placate the warlord, a plea to stop before things spiralled out of control. "Brett, don't you get tired of the zero sum game? What have you gained?"

 He paused letting the question go unanswered, already he could tell he needed to make it quick, "I really do. Both of our time is valuable," he said predicting the man's words, "I want you to know, you don't have to do that. Truth be told, all cards now on the table, we didn't come here for them, at least not entirely."

Brian had analyzed the situation and was using truth to steer the conversation into more tractable waters. He hoped his quick thinking could change the tone of the encounter before lives could be lost, while at the same time airing greviances, ones they could all share perhaps.

 Brian jabbed a thumb towards the hostages, "Faye admitted that one or all of them were traitors, they aren't coming back with us...Just because we aren't Namidian doesn't mean we're the ITSDA. We aren't, Gwen's angry because the SA killed Faye, because someone thought that there was a good enough reason to kill Faye and with her, the Ring project. That's why you're here right? We're here because I'm curious if this idea will reach you, help us do things differently. I mean without Faye there's nothing, her Gift powered the thing. Humanity's greatest achievement, gone. I mean, who's next? I'm not your enemy Commander, never was. I want to work with you, to end this."

 He readied himself for the second more likely possible outcome, he switched his suit to begin recording his own movements with a mental impulse. At this point that simply consisted of Meta's outstretched hand, a look of appeal and a face that showed the Commander his respect.

 He barely registered the discomfort of his fellow teammates as he suggested such a thing, he hoped they would go with it.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:06, Sun 25 Dec 2016.

"I assume your time is valuable, so I won't waste i-"

Commander spoke, straightforward and aloud. He raised a finger to the air and seemed to be about to gesture to one of his men standing by the small group of hostages behind him. Instead, he suddenly spun on his heel to show Gwen and Brian his back and spread his arms wide as though to shield them! Brett shouted into his headset with panicked haste!

"All men stand down!- Huxley put down your FUCKING KNIVES!! Marksmen stand- !!!"
*BLAMNNN!* 
A flash of light from beneath one of the sports stadiums bleachers caught everyone, including Brett, by surprise. A moment later a thunderous roar washed past the group as a .50 cal anti-material round missed them all to plow a three foot long crater of displaced dirt into the stadiums turf.

Commander's headset buzzed a repeat of the message that it's played only a second before. It simply spelled out 'AE3' in morse, which was the encrypted call sign that Commander had made his men memorize which simply indicated that his soldiers had been escalated to level 3 security (out of 5 possible contingency levels). Contingency three was to clean house and to eliminate all hostages, enemy negotiators, and even any of Commanders soldiers who were behaving unusually. It was the highest contingency level that Commander had the means to undo by vocal order alone. Commander had been excluded from Gwen's mental probing so he didn't yet understand why all his snipers had sprung into action without apparent warning- but he could make some very easy guesses...

Brian's mind was the fastest of all the Gifted assembled, and he reacted first. His advanced eyeglasses automatically detected subtle hints of movement from every one of Commanders men which suggested they'd felt simultaneous pain, followed shortly by them reacting violently. Their unanimous reaction to level their weapons at him suggested that they had already been given orders not to take any risks involving the GTF. His IR vision mode even triggered itself, and showed glowing infrared points of invisible laser-sights mark themselves onto himself, Gwen, Black Magic and Vector. With this new information Brian calculated that Commander had four teams of snipers and spotters hidden further afield- although that information was unhelpful given that they had all taken aim. The one sniper that had misfired early had, disturbingly, been from the same team that seemed to be targeting himself. He wasn't certain whether the shot had missed it's mark because of Gwen's inflicted interference, or because of Commanders screamed counter-orders. Brian raised a hand in a possibly pointless gesture to placate the irate soldiers and their leader, a plea to stop before things spiraled out of control.

Gwen had simulated tinnitus in the minds of every soldier she could sense- and a moment later they had reacted. It was a simple equation, with a simple outcome. The professional calm that she'd sensed from all of Commanders men was gone now, and replaced with high-tension anticipation that they were about to have to fight for their very lives!- Commander and Brian were attempting to defuse them, but the soldiers combat instincts had been raised from nill to full in only a moment and it was going to be tough to re-establish a sense of calm. She could sense that Commanders mind had also shifted; his mechanically precise thoughts had given way to instinctive emotion and a desperate fearful urge to try to prevent his own men from carrying out his own orders. Her attack had obviously caught him by surprise...
Gwen sat in silence, seemingly ignoring every person present but the one man who bore her icy gaze.

Vector bounced on the balls of her feet. She had been ready to engage her super speed on a hair-trigger from the second she'd passed into Boura's airspace, but yet she hadn't engaged herself just yet. If she threw herself forward and started disarming Commanders men then the chance for a peaceful resolution would vanish irreparably... both Brian and even the Commander himself seemed willing to bring this meeting to a peaceful end, though, so she forced herself to remain at her normal speed. Her eyes, however, watched with hawk-like unblinking attention from another gunshot flash! The first stray misfire had taken her by surprise, but she was determined that to act before anyone would  have a chance to fire a second.

Black Magic hadn't moved. Only a mere second had passed and his reflexes were only mortal, after all. The knife wielding solider nearest to him had almost drove the point of his weapon into a hostages throat before Commanders Gift had disarmed him. An ace crackled up his sleeve, begging to be used.

Ivan watched the whole display distantly... and simply watched matters play out for now with stoic professionalism.

The echo of the failed gunshot faded away, and the whole stadium managed to fill with a thick sense of anticipation... Fingers bit triggers deep into their firing points, Gifts waited ready to be used, and almost everyone involved wondered why the almost civil exchange had turned so vicious so quickly!

"From what I understood of your message, Gifts were off the table," Gwen stated quietly before he continued, face remaining impassive despite a voice filling with menace. "You should know I'm the countermeasure to you here today, tactician. Next time you test your own rules, you will be a Commander of one."

Commander glared at her furiously, Gwen continued her cold stare.

"Brett, don't you get tired of the zero sum game? What have you gained?"

Brian paused letting the question go unanswered, already he could tell he needed to make it quick, "I really do. Both of our time is valuable," he said answering the man's statement, "I want you to know, you don't have to do that. Truth be told, all cards now on the table, we didn't come here for them, at least not entirely."

Brian had analyzed the situation and was using truth to steer the conversation into more tractable waters. He hoped his quick thinking could change the tone of the encounter before lives could be lost, while at the same time airing grievances, ones they could all share perhaps.

Brian jabbed a thumb towards the hostages, "Faye admitted that one or all of them were traitors, they aren't coming back with us...Just because we aren't Namidian doesn't mean we're the ITSDA. We aren't, Gwen's angry because the SA killed Faye, because someone thought that there was a good enough reason to kill Faye and with her, the Ring project. That's why you're here right? We're here because I'm curious if this idea will reach you, help us do things differently. I mean without Faye there's nothing, her Gift powered the thing. Humanity's greatest achievement, gone. I mean, who's next? I'm not your enemy Commander, never was. I want to work with you, to end this."

Brian readied himself for the second more likely possible outcome, he switched his suit to begin recording his own movements with a mental impulse. At this point that simply consisted of Meta's outstretched hand, a look of appeal and a face that showed the Commander his respect. He barely registered the discomfort of his fellow teammates as he suggested such a thing, he hoped they would go with it.

Commander slowly and very carefully moved his hand in the air and clenched his fist. A standard signal in the american military which simply meant 'stop'. The normal foot soldiers visible to Brian, Vector, Gwen and Black Magic all lowered their weapons by an inch or so- although they were clearly unwilling to leave themselves unprepared again.

"How would you know that I'd used my Gift, Brighteye's, if you weren't already inside my head?"
The question seemed mostly rhetorical, since it came out from clenched teeth and in a furious snarl.
"Mister Jameson, I would be happy to continue this discussion- but without your proxy. She is clearly unstable, and I have no way to be certain that she hasn't already interfered with my men with her little... stunt."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:37, Tue 27 Dec 2016.

 "She's angry, like I said," Brian said nonchalantly, "and I don't blame her. I'm angry too. Distance doesn't stop her Gift and it's passive, meaning she can't stop but she can keep to herself, so it's pointless to send her away. Rest assured that she won't do that again unless there is ample reason."

 He lied about distance being an issue but the Commander's own intel would tell him that she had been supporting Faye miles away. He then sent a coherent thought towards Gwen, he knew she was monitoring the team passively, "Thank you for your vigilance, but now we need to talk, not fight. Please reign it in. Keep it passive. Let me know if you sense anything first, unless you sense a game changing emergency. I'd like to keep you in this meeting. Cool?"

 He looked from Gwen back to the Commander, "Is that acceptable Commander?"

"Clearly you don't understand what it means to be psychic," Gwen sniped behind Brian, shoving her hands in her labcoat pockets and calmly stepping forward to stand beside him. "If I could possibly keep all of you out of my head, I would. Yet since it seems you are so cavalier as to break your own rule TWICE, knowing that I'm capable of sensing change in mind state..." she paused for a moment, turning her gaze toward the man who had been forced to drop his weapons, then his compatriots. Brian's message reached her loud and clear; but in order for her to do so she needed everyone present to understand that she would not tolerate another breach of the rules.

"Perhaps you all simply misunderstand the situation... Brian wants him. That is why all of you continue to breathe at this moment; but that man's Gift," she paused and pointed, pulling her hand out of her pocket and stabbing her finger at Brett, "is probable cause to me for putting all of you in the ground. The threat of imminent death or the destruction of our unique will clearly exists for us, something you are aware of and we are also aware of. Doubtless the very ground we stand on is littered with remote mines or some other such heavy overkill. We're not placing ourselves in the middle of a deathtrap for no reason, just like we're not walking into it without due countermeasure in place.

Commander," her eyes swiveled back to lock on Brett again, "I've seen you use your Gift twice now. I know exactly what triggers I'm looking for, still without looking. I reacted in self-defense in a non-lethal and harmless way against the first act, taking the best possible precaution that could be applied instantly and reacted to in a delayed fashion. For the second act you presented I felt the intent you manifested to direct it at another person, and so I refrained from reacting at all. Should I sense that intent again, directed at any person represented by Brian, I will kill every person under your command and fill your target's ears with ringing noises. Any other use of your Gift will be judged as it goes. Know that it's not my intent here to kill anyone. If Brian thinks you can help, then you can help. I'm simply not in the mood to tolerate any possible threat to people I hold dear to me. Now you know why. In that light, I believe I deserve to be present when what's on your table is discussed."

Brian had come here hoping to negotiate, which meant this man was not beyond hope despite the danger he represented and his past deeds. Regardless of what the Commander might think, Gwen was not nearly as furious or unhinged as she could have been. Had she not taken precautions, Brian simply mentioning Faye's death after the man broke his own rules would have tipped her past the edge. She would have justified slaying them all immediately as a global service; wiping out one of the more dangerous and elusive terrorist cells operating internationally in an instant was an easy sell to the media. So perhaps she wasn't perfectly together, yet she felt that for a man with a mind as clearly unhinged as Brett's to accuse her of simply being unstable... Whatever, black pot.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:12, Sun 01 Jan 2017.

At his father's insistence in his youth, Peter had been trained in a combative skill so his reflexes while still human were nonetheless faster than the average man. Despite this, he did not move when what amounted to a warning shot was fired; however when Brett attempted to stop his man from stabbing a hostage and found his command issued a hair's breath too late, the formerly deadly steel tip curled up upon contact with firm flesh as the lethal material was now but bendable rubber. While Black Magic's tricks tended to be a mixture of mental and physical actions, this one he did out of reflex at the speed of thought alone which outdistanced that of muscle and bone. Other than this act in defense of another however, he performed no other obvious signs of Magick.

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