NON-CANON BATTLE POST
Inside the ambulance, the two army medics serving in the capacity of EMTs produced sidearms and activated security measures; the vehicle was designed not only to bring life saving relief to agents in the field, but also keep them secure and safe in the event of an attack. At the moment for Frank and Brianna, it was a little like sitting in a sealed bank vault. Jackson tried to threaten the men into letting him outside, but the pair knew the rare truth that there were people in the Agency even scarier than the war hero they'd have to answer to.
Outside, the eight heavily armed, equipped and trained figures immediately snapped into action; the ITSDA didn't take green boys and build them into soldiers, instead they took a strong foundation and honed it as close to perfection as a mortal soul could be. Every one of these troops present had served with distinction in their home countries, had fought in combat, were experienced and ready to do what had to be done to win the day and save civilian lives. Nothing more was needed but a slight gesture from their sergeant to get them moving, three breaking left and another trio right while the remaining pair faced the van. There was a cursory shout of;
"HAULT! ITSDA! YOU ARE ALL UNDER ARREST!"
...but it hung hollow and ignored in the air as all involved knew it would be.
The thugs thought themselves invincible on their high, as though by detaching themselves from the world it could no longer hurt them; Fire Axe was the first to realize this assumption was false, as three assault rifle rounds tore into his upper chest, throat, and head. Nail Board took his lethal injections in his right lung, heart, and left shoulder. At the sight of his buddies going down, Empty Gun's brain managed to pry a couple of brain cells free from the mire he had liberally soaked them in, and he had presence of mind enough to realize something was wrong; unfortunately, the only action that accomplished was him opening his mouth to say something about it to his now deceased companions. They would have the opportunity to comment on his effort however, for since he was still waving his weapon and charging the troops, he did an involuntary failed and messy attempt at Black Magic's bullet catching trick. In the same amount of time, the other side of the street was ironically coated in the color these fools had loved so much in life...
The man and woman facing the van flipped their rifle selector switches to grenade instead of a three count, and launched one right at the windshield as another slammed into the grill. Glass exploded inward, flying like knives through all those not outright killed by the blast while the hood flew up, belching fire and smoke. Out of control, the vehicle swerved sharply losing some of its wild momentum; there was still enough left, however, for the metal beast to fall onto its solid side and skid a few feet to a stop. One very injured man poked his head out of the open door/turned makeshift sunroof, and tried limply to lift a gun despite orders to drop it; instead he was dropped. Two others had managed to fall by chance out of the back, but as with the others they squandered their new lease on life at the behest of the drug demon they had sold themselves willing to.
There were a few stray shots that hit squad members, but state of the art body armor dealt with it handily. The skirmish had taken less than a minute, the enemy suffered total loss while each ITSDA fighter sounded off they were OK. An all clear was sent to the ambulance, and the medics turned off lockdown mode so they could leave and make sure the soldiers were alright per procedure. Brianna tried to follow, but was almost pulled back off her feet when Frank's hand grabbed one arm in a vice-like grip.
She thought at first he was scared of being left alone, but when she met his eyes she saw no sign of such. The girl didn't have a high success rate in stressful situations, but she steeled what resolve she had and tried to speak forcefully;
"Sir, you're hurting me. Please let go."
'Please'?! You're trying to intimidate him, and you say 'please?' You're not asking to borrow a cup of sugar, you know.<I/>
<I>I know what I'm doing, after all you catch more flies with honey than...
"No."
Oh, yes, you've got it all under control, don't you?
I'll appeal to his humanity
Out loud, she said;
"Si-Frank, is it OK if I call you Frank? Look, there might be hurt people out there, like you were. Don't you want me to help them like I did you?"
<royalred>"No."
But why? Why won't he let me go?
Um, just a thought here, but have you considered asking him instead of me? Among my talents, mind reading isn't one of them as you know
Brianna felt her face flush hot; she was so used to speaking with her other half, it escaped her mind to ask her question to the person right in front of her who could answer it.
"Ah, OK, you don't want me to help them. Can I ask why?"
"I want them to get aid, which they do from the EMTs."
"Just not from me?"
"Got it in one."
"But I can do it! You're proof!"
There was a sigh from the big man, and for the first time Invictus realized there was softness in his eyes as well as hardness.
"You're right, kid. You saved me, so now I'm saving you. I'm not letting you go not because you can't do your job, but what you'd see in the course of doing it. Take a look at me, a real good look; do you see it? I know what's outside those doors, and the price of that knowledge marks you. If you don't believe me, when this is all over, see if you can't find it in every person on this squad, even the medics. The sight, the smell, every sound burns itself into your brain, a white hot branding iron in your gray matter. No matter what happens in your life after that, how many happy memories you pile on top of it, you can still see the dull glow."
Do something!
What do you need me for? Burn his skin, force I'm to let go
I...I...
You can't, can you? You healed him, he's not attacking innocents, you can't justify it
No, I can't. But you could, just make him let me go help
Do you know why you can't, the real reason; because of who you are. He's right you know, some things alter you regardless of if you want it to or not. You're a wholly sweet and kind person, and you losing those things is why I won't help you get free
While life lessons were being taught in the back of the ambulance, the squad was listening to their sergeant as he briefed them on what would come next; he was interrupted however, by a hole punching clear through his chest; by the look in his shocked eyes, he wasn't aware he was dead when he hit the ground. The others present turned to look in the direction of the shot, and saw a sight that made their collective blood run cold;
There was something coming down the street right toward them, not rushed but at a steady speed nonetheless. It measured about fifteen feet tall, was broad, and put those who had ever seen one in a mind of an anime robotic combat suit. Street lights glinted off it's deep crimson coloring as one arm raised, then a plume of flame gave the telltale sign that a rocket had just been launched; it was aimed at the ambulance.
Frank no longer had his communicator due to Black Magic borrowing it in need to rescue them, but the ITSDA comm. channel came in loud and clear;
MISSILE IMBOUND! EVACUATE THE VEHICLE NOW!!
Brianna frozen, her mind not meant to process such information; that was why she had been blessed with Valorum. However, before he took control of the body, Jackson wrapped both arms around the girl in a bull-rush tackle. When his boots met the back edge of the truck, he shoved off as hard as he could. He hit the ground hard, taking the brunt of it with his right shoulder as he pulled Little Sis's more frail body into his own to provide protection. The old soldier turned the momentum into a series of rolls, then strategically placed his own form on top of the healer's. He had managed to get them far away enough from the rocket's target not to take any real damage, but he still felt a weak effort from the shockwave push at him while bits of shrapnel scattered down on his leather coated back and jeans.
There were the sound of assault rifles firing on full auto, the remaining squad members were opening up on this new enemy. He lifted his head up to see something that looked to him it came out of a science-fiction movie, even from his prone position he could see the rounds spark as they bounced harmlessly off the hide of this monstrosity. Then, he heard a voice booming from it;
"WHAT UP, BITCHES! THE SMITH'S FEELING FINE AND READY TO PAR-TAY! YOU LIKE MY NEW RIDE? IT COMES WITH ALL THE EXTRAS; RAILGUN, MISSILE LAUNCHER, INDIVIDUAL TARGET IDENTIFICATION AND LOCK, AND, WELL HELL I DON'T KNOW ALL OF IT. I JUST LIKE PUSHING THE BUTTONS!"
This was demonstrated as a mini-gun fired, not aimed at any particular person or thing, but wildly like a drunk cowhand out on the town in the days of Western yore.
Frank rolled off of his fellow agent as he silently groaned; great, someone had given the blockhead his Holiday gift early... He attempted to find a spot for cover, when he noticed something odd about the squad; they weren't there anymore. Before he could began to wonder about it, there was a sudden displacement of air nearby he was familiar with followed by the touch of a hand. Then, he and Brianna were in someone's backyard surrounded by the other ITSDA members and a stranger dressed in dated evening ware. Jump groaned, wobbled, and sunk to the ground; he looked haggard and beaten, like a wad of gum with all the flavor gone.
"COME OUT COME OUT, WHERE EVER YOU ARE!"
From the sound of it, the teleporter had managed to get them all away from harm but not by much. As the former cop might have expected, the troopers were keeping it together and following protocol; assess equipment, check for injuries, establish radio contact with other allied forces.
"Any ITSDA units respond, this is Assault Team Bravo. We are facing an unknown threat and have taken casualities, request immediate support. Repeat, this is Assault Team Bravo, to any friendlies in the area. We are pinned down, and require assistance. Does anyone copy?"
"Give it up, you're just wasting your breath. A piece of machinery that fancy, it's going to have a jammer."
The woman looked at Frank, her composure cool and solid as all the others of her squad, and gave him a quick nod.
"Understood. We're on our own, boys and girls. We are outgunned, severely under equipped, and up against a dangerous Unkn-"
"His name's The Smith, big guy with muscles everywhere including between his ears. He's a Namidian Gifted, can take a helluva lot of punishment. Last time I tangled with him, he just had a sledge hammer; looks like Junior's stepped up his game."
"Ma'am, what can we do? I haven't heard a second explosion, maybe when the enemy's distracted we could make a run for the transport."
"Don't be a fool, it's still there for bait so The Smith doesn't have to track us down. Although I'm sure his new gismo suit can, and he will when he both get's bored enough and can figure it out."
The man who spoke shot a displeased glance at Frank, and tried again;
"Ma'am, if we-"
"I said no, you little pantywaist. Disregard your commanding officer again, and see what it gets you."
Confused looks were shared commonly among the remaining squad members.
"But, Agent Jack-"
"SERGEANT JACKSON YOU INSIGNIFICANT SNIVELING PISS ANT!"
"Sorry, uh, Sergeant Jackson, she's our acting CO since he was KIA."
"Really? OK, here's three questions for you, son; is her rank higher than mine, is she senior to me, and can her combat experience beat a congressional Medal of Honor? No? Didn't think so, so zip it."
He knew he had little time, but the immortal fighter took what he needed to look into the eyes of each squad member.
"I know that thing is big and scary, but I want to tell you a little story; a long ass time ago, there was a guy who was this mighty warrior. No one could outfight him, or even scratch him, and in this big war he was racking up the kills. Then, he got hit in the foot, and he croaked.
"Let me tell you another one; I was kept in a death camp for two years, worked over day and night, and I made my escape using the remains of vermin I hunted in my cage for food. The guards were healthy, strong, had weapons, and it made no damned difference in the end.
"Yeah, that things got a lot of bells and whistles, but like I said before the guy driving it is an idiot A one first class. So here's the plan;
"Vandal, I need recon of the area, especially the street. Troops, dump all of your smoke and teargas grenades on the ground in front of you. Medics, if you got any adrenaline, pump it into Jump; I hate to do it to the guy since he saved our asses best he could just now, but we'll need him again. Dapper Dan, what can you do?"
The man in questioned bowed in a condensed version of his usual manner.
"Black Magic sir, we informally met earlier when that unpleasant man shot you, yet that hardly qualifies as an introduction. Though I pride myself on being eloquent, I fear we have not the minutes that would require. So, concisely, I am a real prestidigitator, a true form of what has been done by trickery on stage for generations. I can make cards appear, smoke, fire, water, colored scarves, in short any of the traditional things including vanishing and reappearing."
"He can make copies of himself too, not solid though. Illusions."
Vandal had returned, actually before he had fully finished the sentence after the one telling her what he needed. She had even had the presence of mind to snag the map, the one offered to Peter earlier to help locate the enemy base. Frank nodded and she pointed to it, the two of them studying where the woman pointed and conversing quietly among themselves. The squad was doing as ordered and piling up the grenades requested, but when the medics tried to head toward Jump with a needle, Brianna managed to overcome her shyness and call to them to stop.
"Wait! I...that is I...I'll do it. It'll do less harm to him in the long run, get the same result, and you can save that for later just in case."
The words were slow to start, but then they poured out in a rush. The girl wasn't fully sure if she went silent because she was finished, or simply ran out of air in her lungs. The pair she was talking to looked at each other, nodded, and motioned for her to proceed. She made her way to his side, knelt down as she pushed some sweat soaked strands of hair out of his eyes, grasped her cross as before, and allowed her energies to flow into him as she had Frank. He goal then had been to burn out the poison that crippled him, whereas now the gentle ebb eased its way into exhausted muscles. She went slowly, not wanting to accidently shock his system, after a few minutes it seemed to be working.
Valorum?
Yes?
You could stop that whatever it is, right?
I can't say I've faced such as that before, but as it's clearly manmade I'm sure I could
Then, uh, why don't you? You've thrown yourself into battle before, what's different now?
Because Angel, we can't be both of us at once. What you did for that boy, I can't do. Look around you, there are several warriors and an old war horse to lead them. But they need you, because even their medics are soldiers in all honesty
Oh...
Frank was swiftly moving about the group filling everyone in on their part of his plan, nodding his approval at the pile he ordered before telling them to make another of explosives. Black Magic got to play too it seemed, as the sergeant pointed out something to him on the map. Vandal knew her part, and Jump did as well once he regained consciousness. Things had only taken several minutes to get ready, but from an eruption of gunfire they knew their time was up. Jackson gave a nod, and his slapped together brainchild was put into motion;
The Smith, per Frank's guess, was getting bored; he couldn't figure out why none of his targets were falling for the bait of the transport he'd left intact, after all he'd go for it. Then he saw something, or to be more accurate, he did but the war machine didn't. According to its sensors there was nobody standing in front of it, even though the thug was sure there was a guy wearing funny cloths smiling at him. Obviously the stupid hunk of junk was broken, so the villain took manual aim and fired; now there were two of the stranger instead of just one. Of course, the operator could have spent a few seconds pondering this, and realize this guy matched the description of the one who he was told rescued Frank Jackson, but for an individual like this Namidian, excessive force solves all problems. He opened up on the pair before him, and then there were four. He growled as he equipped the grenade launcher, and attempted to blow up the quartet; suddenly smoke billowed out in front of his view, then to the left and right as well as behind.
As this was happening, Jackson used the distraction to do his part in the plan. Laying things out, thinking them through in any form really went against the grain for him, and he would have loved to charge that monster guns blazing. But he could make plans once, and it had saved more than just his life. He knew what they said about old dogs and new tricks, but he told himself it didn't count if he were just chiseling dinosaur dung off one he'd learned as a pup. He put on a strong front for the troopers, but in the back of his mind he hoped this worked; after all, he got a get out of jail free card so they'd be the ones to pay for any mistake he might have made.
He looked up to see things were progressing as hoped, and ran in a crouch out of the center of the street. As he left his previous position, he discarded the crowbar he'd borrowed from the garage of the empty house Jump had dropped them behind.
The Smith was physically blinded now, and worse yet the expensive machine he'd helped himself to was telling him he was surrounded; readings kept appearing and vanishing as though people were there and suddenly someplace else; which was exactly what was happening, thanks to Vandal and Black Magic. The villain couldn't get a lock on anything out in the pea soup he was suddenly swimming in, so he tried spraying the area with his mini-gun; he had no way of knowing that a sneaky man in eveningwear was turning those deadly projectiles into harmless down feathers. Well, he did have a way, but the readings only helped to confuse him all the more. He kept moving, away from the crowds that were and not there at the same time, beating on the display with a free hand as though breaking his weapons system would solve everything. Suddenly, the metal beast he had been assigned to guard safely out of town lurched hard to the left, and the leg on the side flashed red on a diagram in the cockpit. The smoke finally dissipated, and he realized he had stepped into an open manhole cover. What he didn't know was the visibility was intended, since Vandal had removed the smoke bombs from around the metal construct.
Suddenly, the seven remaining members of Bravo Attack Squad appeared by the monstrosity, guns loaded and at the ready. Together, they blasted all rounds they had left in their grenade launching attachments at the knee joint of the still fully exposed leg, exploiting a weak point Vandal had noticed on her recon sweep. Lights and alarms started erupting in front of The Smith, battered reinforced metal began to groan from weight it wasn't meant hold, circuitry and servos thought in the design to be well protected started to crack, and then the mighty modern Goliath fell thereby damaging its trapped leg as well.
The Namidian felt a lump of solid fear rise in his throat; he and Lee had been assigned to escort this battle suit out of town, just in case things didn't go as planned with the decoy base. The project had required massive resources, the kidnapping and forced cooperation of numerous scientific minds, and a few years to realize a fully operational prototype; it had been colored crimson, for the woman who'd been picked to test pilot it. He had decided to have some fun, shot Vincent in the back of the head and taken the thing for a joyride. His partner bounced back from it, and some ITSDA pelts under The Smith's belt would go well toward smoothing ruffled feathers; now he had exposed a top secret project, gotten it badly damaged from the series of warnings he was getting, only managed one kill, and instead of his dad he had someone far, far worse to answer to for this 'joyride'. He could take physical punishment, a very great deal of it, but he didn't relish the thought of his limit being tested repeatedly.
Then, out in front of him several hundred feet away, he saw a familiar sight; a big man with white hair glinting in the streetlights, dressed in a white tee-shirt, black leather jacket, and jeans. He looked straight at the fallen death dealer, kissed the palm of one hand, and slapped it against his rump. The Smith howled with both rage and triumph; Jackson was the cause of all of this, it was
HIS fault, and he was going to pay. The grunt managed to win a fight with the control system and armed a rocket, then locked onto the old geezer and hit the fire command...
Rockets generally have a safety feature, in that they're not armed until immediately before firing; this is to prevent accidental explosions and loss of life. The standard count on a grenade after the pin is pulled and handle released is ten seconds, and to detonate a rocket with one, it would have to be in the same location as the former within the millisecond it was armed but not launched, and the latter device would have to be deposited with less time before it explodes. Of course, knowledge of all of this would be required as well. An absolutely impossible task, unless of course an unaging immortal soldier told a super fast speedster how to do it right before she got him on the ITSDA transport waiting for them so the blast missed them.
It was actually pretty, Lee thought to himself, as the first explosion set off the grenades meant for the launcher and the rounds cooked themselves in a firework-like way. Close to a billion dollars in R&D, gone in exchange for a few minutes' visual enjoyment. Well, he told himself with a very slight smile, if they collected it for scrap perhaps it would buy a medium soft drink. Rousing himself from his thoughts, Vincent took out his phone and did what had to be done.
"Lee reporting in. Prototype Crimson One Battle Suit totaled. The Smith attempted to use it, allowing the escape of both targets Frank Jackson and Black Magic. Status of Smith unknown."
Meanwhile, safe aboard the transport in the sky over Gaultown, Peter took his time studying the map. Only after he was beyond certain did he give the location of his detainment, then he found a vacant seat and within seconds of claiming it he was sound asleep. Vandal smirked to herself as she looked at him, then turned back to Frank as one of the troopers radioed in the location.
"He did pretty good out there today, saved your butt and helped stop that anime reject."
"Yeah, we don't need to toss him out a hatch just yet."
Vandal gave the other agent a hardy slap on the back of one shoulder.
"You did OK too you know, for a guy who's not known for strategy. You know, this is a damn fine attack squad, and they'll be needing new CO."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I dipped a big toe in a pool I haven't swam in for something like five plus decades. I don't think that qualifies me for the deep end, with my track record."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Shoot."
"How did you come up with that idea, trapping the robot like that? I can't imagine you tangled with many of those things in
Nam."
"Robocop"
The female gifted looked at her friend expecting a joke, but his look remained serious.
"Come again?"
"Robocop, the original first movie. He was one idea for robotic law enforcement, there were these other machines with big clunky legs competing against him or something like that. Eventually they were used for evil, and he had to fight them. One giant flaw they had, the things couldn't handle stairs. So, I just manufactured a like situation, and used what you told me about the chink in its armor."
"That was no big, all armor has a weak spot. Even yours, big tough war hero. I'll find it someday, I just need time."
"And here I thought I was the immortal one..."
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:44, Fri 20 Nov 2015.
