Canon Battle Post
The police sergeant, having just told the young hooligan off rather effectively and resoundingly, was forced to almost immediately rescind his orders. At the sideline, Phoenix Crimson was approached by a rookie NYPD officer who told him that the fugitives were asking for him. Given the phone, the robber on the other side snapped the order into Phoenix's ear. Daniel felt the heat rise on his neck.
"Errand boy?!" He opened his mouth to retort, but was only met with the tone of a dead line. Crimson then swore in Malay as he returned the device.
[Pukimak!]
"He demands some pizza and water..." said Phoenix Crimson, his voice betraying his befuddlement. The sergeant and Daniel both cast looks of supreme doubt at the bank in unison then looked at one another a bit startled. Both chose to ignore that they had apparently agreed on something.
"That's a big no. Every single ounce of my experience tells me this shit is off by a mile. Most bank jobs try to be in and out of the bank before the cops arrive. They're researched. They chose a bank within shouting distance of your little show where they knew we were strongly present and you... are you. They didn't even try to get out fast; they waited for us and asked for you. Fuck these guys. We're breaching as soon as the AGF gets here."
As if summoning them, NYPD's Anti-Gifted Task Force rolled in on their massive armored vehicles. Each man was highly trained, heavily equipped, and experienced in dealing with gifted individuals. Three teams of the men simultaneously headed to the designated breach points. The groups coalesced near the alleyway side entrance, the front doors, and the roof. At the signal, the front team placed a large concave device facing the doors. A second man struck it with a breaching ram and the device detonated, blowing the doors in. Even as it did, the men on the side breached more conventionally. AGF agents swarmed through the two openings.
Inside, the SA operatives were ready.
+AGTF agents inbound on schedule. Repulse using pattern Sigma.+ said Emily Nigma.
The Ghouls, Banshee, and Mr. Grey all acted without making a sound. As expected, there were twelve men at front, six at the side, and six on the roof. Mr. Grey moved up the stairs and drew his second revolver. The thing was designed with him in mind. It kicked like an elephant hopped up on meth, but his healing factor could handle the damage it caused. He hated using it though. He preferred his first revolver, a more standard .44. But his HUD told him that the stopping power of this was needed for the AGF's armor.
On the ground floor, while the doors blew in, the Banshee lined up his first shot and sent the man with the ram spinning to the ground as he tried to duck back from the opening blast. The second man survived as the Banshee's shot rang off the breaching explosive. Ten more men flooded the killzone. Several pairs of Ghouls picked a target and waited as a timer in the HUD ticked down to 00:00. At that point, the stairs the AGF men were climbing erupted. The Ghouls had trapped it and then covered the whole mess in kerosene. It was an inferno; the AGF reacted with admirable swiftness. Still, the Ghouls mowed three down and wounded two more with tight bursts from armor piercing M4 rounds. Another four were incapacitated by the explosion. The last two agents standing took cover at the entrance of the bank.
At the side entrance, the corridor was much narrower and the AGF breached more carefully. Martin, a Ghoul clad in their standard "insectoid" armor, watched the troops come in without glancing toward his partner Cassie. The timer for the lobby went to zero and they tensed, but kept on watching. Their own timer had five seconds left. They watched and, as predicted, the AGF troops slowed as the screams of anguish from the lobby filled their earpieces. They were well trained and experienced, but not nearly as hardened to atrocity and loss as the Ghouls were. Noting their brief hesitation, Martin pulled the pins on two grenades and sent them tumbling toward the men. They reacted half a second slower than normal, but that was enough. Several of them were incapacitated by chunks of debris, a few more were taken down by the explosion itself. Cassie stepped out from behind her pillar and sent a tight burst of fire down the hallway. One more down.
On the roof, two men dropped through the skylight and hit the ground. Even as they reached for their weapons, Vincent stepped out, leveled the handcannon at the first man, and pulled the trigger. He was used to the feeling of the bones in his arm snapping under the recoil, but the armor on that arm was specifically designed to brace it for the impact.
BOOM!! The slug hit the agent in the chest and his chest simply exploded. The second man swung his rifle at Vincent and pulled the trigger. Vincent spun to the side and felt one of the rounds hit his leg. He dropped but kept the spin going on the bad leg's knee, aimed the cannon, and put the second man down.
BOOM!! Four more men were coming down; his left-leg was knitting itself back together. He quick drew his .44 with his off hand and put three rounds into a third man and dove for cover. The AGF men had pulled their dead and wounded behind a set of desks. That was a big mistake; Vincent pitied them. He sent a signal and the desks exploded. He sighed, then grunted as his arm reset itself yet again.
Seconds after it had begun. the AGF were in full retreat, dragging away all the wounded that they could as they ran. The SA operatives let them go.
+All parameters within acceptable deviations. Phase three imminent. Nu configuration.+
Vincent went downstairs and picked up the phone once more.
"This will cost you dearly. Put the popinjay on the line again."
Outside, Daniel watched in horror as good, highly trained men were shredded by the criminals inside the bank. Of 24 men, 15 were dead and another 5 wounded. Whoever was in that bank were armed, professional, and ruthless. He moved to talk to a survivor, whose eyes were locked on his wounded comrade, who moaned helplessly near the entrance.
"What the hell happened?!" The man looked at Daniel and registered the armor, the scarf, the face:
"No fucking clue, sir. Armed like black beetles, the bastards. Had the place rigged, knew our routes and operations. They were bloody well waiting for us! I'm calling in - we need backup, now!"
Daniel squinted at the bank. That description... it sounded familiar. He looked back in time to see the sergeant waving him back. The man was visibly paler as he handed over the phone.
"This is..."
"I know who it is. I asked for you, popinjay. Every single one of those dead men is your fault." Again, Daniel's retort was cut off by a dial-tone. He knew it was a taunt, he knew what its goal was, he remembered his superiors drilling restraint, control, and reason into his thick skull. None of that helped; as ready as he might normally be to follow their advice, the taunt stung. No, it burned with truth. As well trained as AGF was, even they were no match for a full-fledged ITSDA field agent like himself. The sergeant saw the look in his eye as the phone slipped out of Daniel's hand.
"Son... that's what they wa-"
"I know officer, let's just hope they're not as ready for it as they think."
Nigma watched her bank of monitors like an owl. She noted Vincent's camera was moving back toward the lobby area. She saw Martin's camera watch as he threw three more grenades given specifically to him. They detonated and the hall filled with hard foam. The operative then moved back toward the lobby. She noted the two timers running at the moment, then hit a button and a third green timer started. The Banshee started moving toward his next firing point. She watched as the first timer ticked to zero.
+Primary target inbound.+ She didn't have to check the bank cameras still monitoring the exterior to know she was correct, but she did anyway. Confidence and arrogance separated the victorious from the dead.
"-PUNCH!"
Phoenix burst into the bank through it's lobby window; the toughened exterior glass didn't even slow him down. His momentum carried him sailing through the air, which let him cast practiced eyes around the entire room to get a better look at the threats he was facing:
The room was littered with hostages. All wore hoods and ear-mufflers, and many were zip-tied onto the sparse furniture that the building's modern lobby contained. There didn't seem to be many gunmen, but they looked well equipped. Definitely SA.
"Damn!" He swore in English for a change and forced himself to the ground with a blast behind his back just as a storm of buzzing lead filled the air where he'd have been a microsecond earlier. He landed in front of some kind of ornamental fountain, and flattened himself behind cover.
"What the hell are Schwartze Augen doing here?!"
His mind raced. He'd fought them before. He'd fought them a lot, actually. Each time they seemed to get better and better at predicting his tactics.
To say that he felt fear would be an overstatement, but he was suddenly taking the fight a lot more seriously. If he'd have been up against simple crooks, he would have been able to take on twenty or more. But when pitted against Namidian soldiers, he needed to exercise all the caution that he could.
*Mpppphm!*
A muffled scream of panic by his side demanded his attention, and he saw that a hostage had been zip-tied onto his cover. Heavy armor-piecing shells were already reducing the water feature to rubble, and without a second thought Phoenix explosively dived into the open to seek a new hiding spot. For the brief moment that he was exposed, he heard a bullet sing past his ear, and another pluck a hole in his trailing scarf. When it came to dodging rounds, Phoenix was generally quite lucky. He knew, though, that it wouldn't be wise to chance more than a split second of movement at a time. He vaulted over some kind of decorative marble urn and tried to think up a strategy to take out the waiting gunmen...
*MHRMArrhmm!!!*
"Oh! Come on!"
This piece of cover had a hostage tied to it as well! This time on the vulnerable side and facing the gunmen! Phoenix didn't even waste time to draw breath as he dived out into the open again - he had to find a place where he could gather his Gift without putting anyone at risk!
Bullets blazed past Crimson, and he even felt one ricochet off his gauntlet with an impact that left his fingers numb. Ahead of him, he could see a wide structural column! Perfect! He kicked another explosion behind himself and twisted midair to make himself as small a target as possible. However, as he traveled the last few feet an armored figure stepped out from the pillars far side and aimed a revolver at him! This one was dressed in Slate Grey.
Vincent scowled as the gray timer in his HUD ticked its way down to zero all too quickly. He rapidly bounded toward an "X" his HUD projected onto the bank floor, the Ghouls blocked off his escape with concentrated fire, and Vincent hit the spot Nigma predicted he'd jet toward. Mr. Gray watched carefully; Phoenix Crimson twisted sideways as the .44 slug connected. Then man landed and looked straight at Vincent. The Chinese assassin felt a shiver go up his spine.
+Phase Four.+
He moved to pull the trigger again even as the man exploded toward him. He snapped another shot, but the man twisted in mid air. Vincent marveled. For a man who was basically firing himself like a gun at things, he was a nimble fucker. He tried to track for a third shot but knew it was futile, so he flipped the revolver in his hand end-for end. He grinned inside his helmet as the man bounced off the pillar next to him.
"Phoenix!-"
Vincent had been told how much force was in that punch. Letting it land was a terribly bad idea. However, one factor that Nigma had made a point of and the main reason Vincent was here was that one of Crimson's major weak points was his martial prowess. Few people could go toe-to-toe with Crimson in melee and hold their own let alone come out on top: Dieter, Kane maybe, a few others. Vincent was not one of them, but this particular scenario had been set up to favor him. Thus the X marks the spot maneuvering, thus why even as fast as Phoenix was Vincent knew exactly where the trajectory of the blow was. His HUD overlaid the prediction of this blow's trajectory on his vision. Vincent had been picked because he was also a master of Wing Chun martial arts.
Smoothly, he raised the arm with the specially rigged brace on it and parried Crimson's arm. He felt his arm shatter at the force he was only trying to redirect. At the same time, his other arm brought the small revolver's reinforced grip against the other man's helmet. He watched with satisfaction as the visor shattered.
"Pun-AuUUgh!!"
Vincent winced as the superhero went tumbling like a rock right into the center of the lobby beneath the massive dome. The hero was tougher than that though and soon started to stand; the freak was even chuckling!
"Well done bu-" He was interrupted as a sniper round blasted through the meat of his right bicep.
"Aghh!!" Vincent only shook his head. This was like beating up a child. Still, Nigma wasn't perfect. Vincent's arm was damaged far beyond the calculations. He was supposed to fire the handcannon now, but that was beyond him so he flipped the .44 in his off hand again.
Ba-Bam!! Two more slugs chunked into the hero's abdomen. The man looked wounded in body as well as spirit.
"Oh? Did you think this was the part for witty repartee and one-liners? We don't have time for that shit. You're going to fail again..." He shifted his aim over Crimson's left shoulder.
+Contingency 6A inbound.+
Daniel was in pain. Not more than he had ever experienced, but enough to know that he would be in dire straits very soon. He was trying to not look down where his left hand was trying to keep the guts in his armor, so he tracked Gray's aim to see that other than the hostages, he and Mr. Gray were alone in the lobby. The other four... were gone. His mouth fell open. His right hung almost useless at his side. He glared at the slate-gray Namidian.
"True justice will never be defeated- Not so long as heroes are willing to fight."
"True justice will never be defeated- Not so long as heroes are willing to fight- " The man spoke the same words with the same intonation at the exact same time. Crimson blinked. Was he so utterly predictable? These men had been one step, three steps ahead of him the entire fight. Everything had been designed to have him here, now, like this. How could it be? Daniel wasn't as naive as most of his corny lines, but he did believe in justice, truth, and honor to his core. So being defeated hurt like nothing else. This man had thrown him around like a rag doll. Worse, he made a mockery of everything he stood for! Daniel struggled to stand as the man aimed his weapon at innocent citizens but fell to his knees again as his abdomen spasmed.
"Don-!" He choked on his own emotions while another wave of pain rolled over him.
The last part of Nigma's script was going to hurt, which was why Vincent hated this plan from the start.
Once the timer ran out, Nigma had predicted that so too would Phoenix would charge Vincent in one last death-or-glory attack. Vincent was not to shoot the Agent, but instead unload his weapon into the crowd of hostages placed strategically behind Crimson's position. Vincent would be captured, but he was assured that the legal measures were already in place and that he would be sent to the same facility as Mister Green and Mister Sievold. He was also assured he would not have to wait very long at all for his release. After his capture, S.A employed actors within the pool of hostages, alongside a number of pre-written anonymous press tipoffs, would implicate Phoenix as dangerously irresponsible. With the dead hostages and dead AGF soldiers' blood on his hands, and any witness's who could disprove the accusations being bagged and ear-muffed, Phoenix (and by extension the ITSDA itself) would be absolutely crucified by the press. Given the timing, Augen analysts predicted as much as a 24% chance that the outrage fallout may be enough to topple the organization entirely, with an almost guaranteed chance of inflicting irreparable political damage. Even while this two-pronged plan was underway, the remainder of his team began their magnificent escape. A VTOL escape aircraft was inbound in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0!
'00:00' +Phase Five+
The Agent's face flushed bright crimson with desperate fury. He visibly recoiled from the pain of his injuries and forced himself into action. With the last of his strength gone, Vincent knew that his enemy was only good for one more attack. That was, after all, the plan.
"PHOENIX!-"
The ITSDA Agent took to the air like clockwork. By now, he'd been exerting himself so much that the lines of his armor were already glowing a solid white before the attack was even prepared. Vincent consoled himself with the knowledge that his imminent beatdown would be instant and probably painless, as he drew a bead on the family of tightly clustered hostages in his line of fire.
Phoenix's delirious anger was focused entirely on trying to win his battle, to finally strike back at the foes that had been dominating the fight so far. But, as his masked eyes followed the line of The Gray Ghoul's gun, a dim part of him realized something. A sense of understanding passed over his mind as it processed the situation against Vincent's aim and his own suspicions...
*Bla-Bla-Bl-Bla-BLAMMmn!*
Phoenix spent the energy built for his punch, and blasted it into his side. He veered off course, and his armor sparked and shattered as he interposed Vincent's attack. His leftover momentum bounced him off the floor once and sent him flying deep into the hard foam Martin placed. The only sound that could be heard from the hard foam that now entrapped him was his ragged and labored breath.
[Diu!]
Vincent swore in Cantonese. Crimson wasn't the only multi-lingual in the room, after all. He had contingency plans for if the schedule failed, of course, but he hadn't expected to need them at the literal last moment of his mission. Vincent cursed again, mentally.
'He was supposed to be enraged! Damn it! The plan won't work if we don't have someone to pin it on!'
+ Mr. Grey! Focus! +
Nigma's voice cut through his other senses and startled him back to the present.
+We are moving to Contingency Epsiolon. You are to regroup with the others squadron and evacuate with them via the VTOL aircraft. Understood? +
Part of Vincent considered disobeying the order to reload and shoot some of the hostages, or to ensure that Phoenix was truly defeated. He disregarded the ideas immediately; Phoenix could be defeated at any other time, so long as he didn't learn any new tricks Nigma didn't anticipate. And trying to salvage the original plan was a desperate strategy, anyway.
A new timer in the right corner of his helmet's visor told him that he had "00:22" seconds to run up four flights of stairs and regroup with his team. He hustled as fast as he could.
"Roger!"
+ Miss Nigma. ITSDA backup has arrived as you said it would. +
The Banshee sniper spoke on the teams radio, for the first time. At this stage in the plan it was his duty to stand watch against new threats. He had found one, but it was one that had been statistically anticipated.
+ That's fine, we're well in the green. Who have they sent? +
+ Miss. They've sent Sue. +
Suddenly the radio dropped dead quiet. For once, Emily didn't respond immediately. As Vincent pounded up the stairwell to his escape, he saw his timer suddenly drop ten seconds from "00:16.52" to "00:06.51." He would have swore again, but he suddenly didn't have the breath to spare.
+ Move it or lose it Vincent! We WILL leave you behind! +
+ Acknow- +
+ MOVE! +
Sue Steel flew fast enough to blur the sky around her. She'd been given the call to help Phoenix Crimson settle a minor Gifted incident mid-town less than a minute ago, but since her Headquarters was so close by, she'd made the journey in moments. As the building finally came into view between the city's skyscrapers, she saw that the incident may not have been so minor after all; dead policemen ringed the area, thick plumes of smoke poured out of the building, and some kind of small aircraft was lifting off from it's roof. While she watched, a figure sprinted from the rooftop entrance and threw itself into the vehicle's hold before it snapped it's cargo hatch shut and began to liftoff. She realized that it was building speed in the exact opposite direction from herself! She'd been spotted already!
"Oh, heck no!"
Sue fired herself forward to close the distance.
"Sue Steel" was one of the most dangerous ITSDA agents on record. If not
the most dangerous. Her powers weren't exotic in the least; strength, flight, durability, speed. However, all of these attributes were far above what other agents could boast. Additionally, she had very few weaknesses at all. (Ex)Agent Jackson may have been able to outlast her, Agent Jump may been able to outmaneuver her, and Agent Crimson may be able to throw heavier punches. But she was stronger by virtue of being able to do all those things almost as well, all at the same time.
She was fast; and with her arms pushed forwards to make herself as aerodynamic as possible, she was just about as fast as the jet itself. Already it was building to maximum speed and climbing to a higher atmosphere where it'd be able to travel faster still. The jet's path took them screaming out of Manhattan and over the empty air above the Hudson. With great physical exertion, she managed to soar close enough to enter the Namidan jet's slipstream. The woman's velocity increased sharply and she dared to reach out a hand and seize her target's tailfin...
Suddenly, the Namidian jet tore downwards! The cross-stream of air as she broke free of its wake hit her painfully like a punch, but she cried out in anguish and flung herself toward its howling engines anyway. It plummeted downwards to lose her by bending beneath the George Washington bridge and she followed nimbly, but the action made her lose ground. She strained herself to catch up again. Shockingly, at the height of its ascent, the jet stalled its engines to spin on it's nose in a insane suicide-turn. Her eyes widened as she saw the concealed barrel of an Anti-Tank gun light up beneath the vehicles fuselage.
*Ker-BLAMMMNn!*
Something the size of a soda can hit her in the gut at several times the speed of sound. Her vision fluttered as she doubled over and almost lost consciousness; a moment later, she recovered and gasped as she pulled a bent 30mm shell from her bruised stomach. Distantly, she saw the enemy jet in the far distance shed a circle of water vapor. A long moment later, she heard the distinctive noise of a sonic boom. Damn! It'd gotten away!
Still hovering midair, she looked down angrily at the missile that had injured her before she remembered her task.
"Dan!"
A shining, fresh trail of blood ran across the bank from the foam in which Phoenix Crimson was just trapped to the closest hostage. A near-death Daniel lay face down in front of that hostage, a young woman named Gale. The woman was sobbing in fear as the stench of death lingered in her nostrils.
Sue Steel arrived just as twenty additional AGF agents began to secure each and every inch of the building, strategically moving from room to room whilst freeing hostages and checking for threats. A single AGF Commander swung his arm out to block her path as she neared the building. Sue simply stared at him, her mouth agape in shock.
"We have your associate inside. We will deliver him to your momentarily. Please do not interfere with our operations, ma'am.
"Your operations? Our duty is--"
"I'm aware. But your renegade interference in our operations cost us many lives today."
"What do you mean? Phoenix saved--" Sue got up in the guard's face and balled her hand into a fist.
"--Prevented us from using our EMP missiles and moving in while they were recovering, agent.
Sue Steel instinctively loosened her tightly balled fist and turned her face away from the guard. Her mind raced with thoughts of a comeback; she wanted to say something, anything to make him realize that Dan was a hero! But she couldn't; she had no ammunition to fire back at him with.
"With all due respect, ma'am... We saved him."
"But I-- That doesn't... Just deliver him to me. He needs attention, now!"
The Commander pointed his thumb back at two AGF officers in the doorway behind him. The officers carried a mangled, beaten, partially armored body out of the building on a stretcher. A soft movement of the chest served as the only indication that he was alive.
"Careful with him, got some nasty bullet wounds," said one of the medical officers. Sue nodded, wrapped Phoenix Crimson in her arms, and flew off to the ITSDA medical center at headquarters.
The ITSDA medic eyed the mess that was Phoenix Crimson and grunted as he stabbed the syringe of healing drugs into his chest. The man started awake.
"NO!!"
"Calm yourself, Agent. You are safe... or as safe as anyone can be with these injuries. We were forced to use something slightly experimental on you. A gift from a man with a... gift for chemicals." For some time, the hero lay there in his ruined armor and the medic watched as his skin began to blacken, flake, and give way to new skin emerging from underneath. It was a disgusting process; like watching a man shed his own skin. But despite the hideousness of the process, his injuries were healing rapidly.
"You'll shed like that a couple more times but it will take months off the hospital visit. Unfortunately, it only works on Gifted."
"The agents? Schwartze Augen? What happened?"
"Ah, them? Well, they managed to escape through the roof in a VTOL after leaving you for dead. AGF backup has hit the scene and are investigating. We have been politely asked to leave. The explosion... casualties are high, agent. Too high."
The emphasis made it seem anything but polite. Crimson looked sideways to where an AGF sergeant was sitting. The man's face was black with soot but marred by clean lines, paths traced with salty tears. He looked ashamed of the "polite" business. Phoenix Crimson had saved a few of his men today. Some knew and honored his heroism; most would hate him for ruining their plans.
Nigma sat back in her command chair and reviewed the outcome for the fourth time. Though not even the new Mr. Gray truly understood this, the battle's order and outcome did not deviate more than .01% from her and Dieter's plans. She reviewed surveillance videos, analyzed micro movements and evidence. She monitored NYPD and Interpol chatter in the aftermath. She would not be confident for hours yet, but she smirked as she pulled a keyboard in front of her. She typed a message and sent it to a very secret darknet mailbox,
+Operation: Atlantis, Phase One complete. Monitoring aftermath. Phase Two, commencing in T-Epsilon.+