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.