Gates brought out the satellite phone he had been give and quickly got the camera pointed at the Church. He started sending the stream, which of course was completely encoded, to his boss. "Eyes are up."

Phonix Crimson released a theatrically exaggerated sigh of exasperation. "That never works. They always want to put up a fight." He handed the microphone back to the officer he'd taken it from.
"...Shame, really." he said, without disappointment. "Sergeant, please wait outside. This should only take a few minutes." He put on his cockiest grin and slowly strode towards the hospital's entrance, as he walked he shook the tension out of his arms and casually stretched his shoulders with circular shrugs.

He passed through the hospitals automatic glass entrance and came to a stop in the reception area. There was no sign of Vivianne, which meant that she was preparing a trap that Phoenix'd have no choice but to walk into. This suited Daniel just fine; his line of work didn't usually give him the luxury of fighting at an advantage, and at the very least it'd give him a moment to consider his enemy:
Viviane had taken out an entire unit of Swat troopers by herself, so it could be deduced that she was gifted- although Phoenix wasn't sure in which way, yet.
The reception area was a thinly furnished and open-planned affair, with only a few sterile desks, support columns, and utilitarian couches to break up the room. Doors and corridors along the ground floor lead into the further wings of the facility and into waiting rooms, shops and an efficiently placed canteen. With the power out the only light illuminating the room came from the mirrored floor-to-ceiling windows that plated the buildings ground floor. The room was completely silent.
As Daniel stepped further into the building he could see the still corpse of a SWAT Officer slumped over a stairwell banister, he had been shot squarely between the eyes with a single bullet. Whoever his foe was she was skilled, very skilled; the guard looked as though he hadn't even had time to fire off a shot before he'd been efficiently put down. He lifted the mans head to examine the entry wound, it was an ugly fat wound that looked like the kind of mark that high-calibre low-velocity bullet could leave. A revolver, Daniel guessed.
He replaced the man and continued onwards. Without Police Officers to showoff to, and nothing but the eerily dead hospital surrounding him, the bright enthusiasm that he'd entered the building with with was gradually sapped and replaced with a bitter sense of purpose. He told himself that he'd feel better after he'd had the chance to throw Vivianne through a few walls.

---

His path took him down one of the hospitals many hallways. The sterile furnishings, uniformly placed drinking fountains, fire extinguishers, and two-tone laminated floor made it seem indistinguishable from the rest of the facility but the overhead signs set at each junction claimed that he was walking past the first floor Emergency Rooms. Here the building was fully enclosed and windowless, only the pulsing orange-white light of his armours heatsinks and the glowing charge he kept maintained in his right fist kept Daniel from stumbling over the particularly thick trail of corpses that'd lead him here.
After a long minute of fruitless searching he stopped to call out a challenge: "This is your plan? Hide and seek?! I guess that you're not as great in a fair fight as you are at slaughtering the helpless." His challenge came out angrier than he'd meant, seeing the senseless destruction paired with the dismal surroundings had pricked his temper and caused him to think rashly... which of course was why Vivianne had lured him down here: Angry heroes made mistakes- such as giving away their position with loud outbursts.

"Whatever you say, boy."
Daniels head snapped up to the ceiling as Vivianne broke her silence, his reactions fired a bolt of lightning down his spine as his dim vision adjusted to spot olive green beads of corrosive solution bubble the ceiling above him. A warning droplet splashed onto the ground by his feet and chewed a hissing pit into the floor, instantly and without warning the ceiling along the entire length of corridor bulged outward and acid gushed in torrents down onto the ground where he'd just been standing, great chunks of rubble slammed into the ground and sunk away as the pool of acid washed outwards before receding again as it dug it's way through another floor and drained into the basement.
From her perch on the floor above Vivianne admired her handiwork with a sly grin. She'd used her Ghoul helmet's suite of echo-locators to plan her strike but now that the air had filled with caustic vapour and shifting rubble she switched to low-light vision, she leaned over the precipice she'd made as she waited to confirm her kill. If the air, acid or rubble hadn't killed him her drawn TMP certainly would. Dropping a floors worth of chemically-drenched rubble onto her target had been excessive and impersonal by her standards but she wasn't in the mood to draw this fight out for long, her Units would soon be in position and she intended to begin Phase Three of her mission immediately.
As the mist parted her highly contrasted vision picked out the glowing white lines of Phoenix's armour, a moment later it cleared enough to show that he'd narrowly been able to leap back from her initial attack and had used his ridiculous scarf to filter his lungs from the congested air.
"I'm almost impressed!" she laughed, honestly. "You're light on your feet, for such a loudmouthed idiot!" Her finger traced playful circles around the pin of one of her White Phosphorus grenades.
"Thanks. I like your uniform..." Phoenix returned. He threw his crimson scarf from his mouth and struck a pose, this time raising his striking arm in a karate-like pose. "...but one of us is going to have to change!"
Lady Crimson snorted derisively, her quarry was back to throwing out inane soundbites. "You shouldn't have gotten involved. Goodbye forever." With a casual flick of her wrist she plucked the Grenade from her holster, popped the pin, and tossed it in an underhanded spin to bounce past Phoenixes feet before spilling it's deadly chemical payload in a great surge of gaseous powder.

Daniel had to act quickly, whether it was from warcrime-grade phosphorous or acid rain the crimson psychopath seemed intent on killing him the the most painful way possible. His survival would be decided in a mere moment, and time seemed to slow to a crawl as the two Gifted committed their full skill and focus against each other.
As the armed cylinder hit the ground and bounced once past his boot Phoenix kicked himself off the ground with a concentrated detonation under his heel, he hurtled into the air and used a second crack of energy to kick off from the corridor wall just as the grenade bounced a second time and blossomed into a swell of pale smog. With a third wallkick Daniel cleared what was once the ground floor ceiling and hurtled toward Vivianne with a furious battlecry on his lips, his fist pulled back and the glow of it's stored power redoubled whereas Vivianne's own hand inched up to lead Daniels path and tightened it's finger around her TMP's trigger.
The distance between the two closed in less than a second; Phoenix slashed his gauntleted fist around in a powerful but telegraphed strike which Viviane countered by simply taking a step back and letting the attack sail through the air where her head had just been, she dug the stubby barrel of her gun into the young man's unarmoured gut and flashed a cruel smile that seemed to say 'I win. Tough luck.'
"PHOENIX! -PUNCH!" At the final moment Phoenix finished the last syllable of his battlecry.
Energy crackled along Phoenix's entire body and collected to a pinprick just above his knuckle, too fast for either party to perceive the point shrunk down to a singularity and burst into a volatile'KRAC-CK!' of energy, even the indirect hit sent a blast through the room that threatened to boil the fluid in Vivianne's inner ear, and the blastwave pressed her down to brace a knee against the floor even as it blew open every door throughout the second floors corridor. Phoenix Crimson laughed in triumph as he succeeded in landing the first-hit.
"Hah -HA!"

Vivianne's perception floundered against the unexpected sensory assault as her Ghoul helmet desperately triggered it's flashbang and counter-noise compensators, her highly-drilled combat instincts screamed at her not to reflexively seize her finger against her trigger or to flinch into a guard, and instead she fell back upon the simple mantra that'd served her through her years of service as a ranker Ghoul and continued to serve her as a Lieutenant: "When in doubt, lash out."
From her pained crouching position she snapped her palm upward and felt it connect with the pliable flesh of Daniels throat, which shut the little bastard up for a moment at least. Her octuple vision refocused whilst her blacked-out visor made what little light shone from the thrown open-second storey windows almost tolerable against her hyper-dilated pupils. With her restored vision she could see that Daniel had landed behind her but her strike had prevented him from following up with a second punch, currently he stood almost doubled over and clutching at his throat and Vivianne's ringing ears distantly registered that he was trying to croak out another speech. Vivianne didn't care to hear it, her wrist-stab hadn't been direct enough to crush Daniel's Laryinx but she wouldn't let that happen again, from now on she intended make every action a killing one.
The blood pounding in her ears subsidised enough to let her regain her balance and her helmet was obliging enough to reduce the rooms noise to a comparative whisper while she recovered, an electronic notification sprung up on the corner of her vision and she knew it's meaning without having to examine it: Squads Lemmings and Annie Lennox had arrived at the Hospital and this morons interference had put her behind schedule. She ground her teeth together furiously and a scarlet flush of rage ran it's way up her neck as a thought crossed her mind: 'Dieter won't tolerate this.'

She locked eye's with Phoenix Crimson to the extent that their opaque masks would allow as they sized each other up and planned their next moves.
Vivianne reacted before Phoenix and fired her TMP from the hip to scatter lead at his retreating figure, the Hero turned, sprinted and dived inside one of the wards recovery rooms before any of the rounds managed to find a solid hit- but as Daniel dived to cover Lady Crimson saw a round ricochet off his right shoulder plate, another whip between his pounding legs and several more pluck holes through his trailing scarf.
Pheonix Crimson twisted from his dive and franticly rolled into the relative safety one of the floors Recovery Rooms. His heavy breathing indicated the closest thing to fear that he ever allowed himself to feel in combat, the airy and well-windowed recovery room was deceptively calming compared to the hell that the rest of the building had become, but Phoenix resisted the urge to ease his guard- he could afford complacency in some of his fights, but this wasn't one of them.
Bullets were his biggest, and most unfortunately common, weakness; he could outmanuver the arm that fired them, but the rounds themselves travelled faster than his feet, his blasts, and even faster than thought- and it only took a single direct hit to take him out of action. From Daniels perspective Vivianne's compact little submachinegun was easily more dangerous than any of her grenades, acids, or shockingly strong combat manoeuvres.
His reactions and agility had narrowly saved him this time, but blind luck had definitely played it's part.

He could hear Vivianne's footsteps stamping closer in a heavy sprint, he guessed that she intended to press her advantage and corner him in the room and so he heaved himself to his feet to meet her challenge head on.
Vivianne barged into the recovery room only moments after Daniel, and it's designed tranquillity exploded into anarchy as she waved her weapon over everything inside in an extended barrage that smashed windows, shredded hospital charts midair, and reduced a roomful of medical hardware to plastic shards. Her vision spun around as she tried to find her target, and as her weapon snapped around to clear the near-corners of the room Phoenix lunged from his hiding place behind the door to grab Vivianne by the wrist and twist her gun-arm to harmlessly face the ceiling.
Phoenix Crimson followed up his counterattack with a series of jabbed punches into Vivianne's side, each time he hit he did so with a gunshot spark that buckled her armour and would have ended the fight against a normal opponent, but only seemed to drive the wind from her. She was made of stronger stuff than even her militaristic and intimidating frame would suggest, and as she contracted her muscles to force the barrel of her weapon back toward Daniel it quickly became apparent that she was the physically stronger of the two. Without time to charge his attacks Daniel's punches had lost most of their power.
The two wrestled in silence for a long second, both their hands were grappled around the submachine gun's handle and Phoenix began to feel his muscles give way as the woman's enhanced strength brought her line of fire to within inches of Daniels face with slow inevitability. Phoenix tried to jam the trigger down to spend the rest of her bullets but she stopped him by hooking a finger behind the triggers frame.
"You look pissed. Did something come up, or are you always like this?" Phoenix taunted glibly, although his clenched teeth and groans of exertion told Vivianne that he was struggling not to give way. "You shouldn't get so worked up. It's not a hot look."
"You little shit!" She wanted to to put a bullet through his skull as much as she wanted to punch him in the throat again, but neither so much as she wanted to get the fight over with and rejoin the broader battlefield. Images of Dieter's quiet scowl, and the subtle threat that implied, etched themselves onto her thoughts and triggered a very real and personal fear within her. As they struggled her masks messenger system updated it's earlier notification to an orange alert. She was falling behind schedule. "Just die already!"
She decided to employ a dirty trick; with a single economic movement she released the grip of her off-hand from her weapon and gathered a thin layer of thin acid against her burnt and scarred palm before attempting to slap the hand against Phoenix's mask. Her own acids were just as damaging to herself as they were to her opponents, but she'd find it easier to deal with another layer of calloused skin across her palm than Phoenix would with two eye sockets full of the stuff. She loathed using the trick but it came in useful now and then, it was always painful, and it was always messy.

Phoenix Crimson felt the crushing pressure of Vivianne's strength suddenly release and could see her hand swing at his vision. It wasn't until he'd dodged under the arm with a drunken step that he saw the skin on her palm was blistering and bubbling away. Vivianne shifted her feet into a reversal posture and chopped her palm back to Phoenix's head with a lightening-quick fencers lunge. Realizing that attempting to block the attack would coat his arms in the same substance that was eating away at his opponent Daniel twisted his dodge around to dart past Vivianne's side and out of the doorway back into the corridor that he'd fled from.
His retreat took him one, two, and almost a third step out of the recovery room before the scarf trailing behind him was snatched in a vicelike grip and yanked sharply into his damaged neck, he turned on his heel to face back towards the room before a second savage tug pulled him to the ground. He unconciously released a strained 'Glark!' from his constricted windpipe as his legs kicked out uslessly, one of his hands scrabbled to undo the taut knot that'd suddenly imprisoned him whilst the other dragged it's fingers along the corridor wall in a desperate attempt to find purchase to resist the force that'd started to pull him back into Vivianne's line of sight...

Vivianne twisted the red cloth of Daniels scarf around her fist a third time before heaving her arm backward with irresistible force, she heard a painful choke and a slight give of resistance as the fabric yielded another foot. Her off-hand was still wet with mild acid and she ignored the burn of her raw skin on fabric as she wound her fist and tugged again, her main hand clutched her machine-pistol and she knew the weapon only had a quarter-clip remaining. Vivianne's dense muscles contracted and snapped back on her preys leash with another mighty pull, the cloth hit heavy resistance before coming away with a sudden flutter that forced her to take a step back to keep her balance. She tossed the crimson rag aside and brandished her weapon at the vacant doorway just as the wall beside it crushed inward with explosive force. She ignored the masonry shrapnel that pelted at her armour and started firing careful single shots into the gap in the hopes of clipping Phoenix without squandering what little remained of her clip. Flying grit and debris obscured her sight but she heard the bullet punch through something metal, the debris filling her vision was pierced by a shrill hiss and she saw a jet of angled white gas sweep under her vision before arcing up to crash into her chin with enough force to crack the lenses of Vivianne's helmet and wrench her neck upward at a terrible angle.

Phoenix Crimson's uppercut the fire-extinguisher into the hitwoman's neck with all his might, the red cylinder had taken a bullet for him and he felt it welt into her chinstrap with enough force to crumple the metal and vent what remained of it's pressurised contents into a freezing gaseous powder that blinded the pair and forced it's way into their lungs.
Vivianne's vision blacked out for a moment as her helmet took the blow, she could taste blood pooling in her mouth and the strike had turned her around to face an unknown direction- she started firing into the all-enveloping mist in an attempt to keep Phoenix at bay, and as her vision returned she heard the hollow deadman's click of her gun running dry. Her eyes widened as she saw a sudden glow expand from the fog and dive toward her.
"PHOENIX!-"
She forced her battered body to respond, and attempted to quickdraw her sidearm-
"-KICK!"
Both Phoenix Crimsons boots blew into her side, and with a deafening crash she felt herself lifted bodily from the ground and hurtled through a pane of glass. Her spiralling vision suddenly filled with sunlight and air rushed past her as she shot from the buildings second storey window like a cannonball... there was a brief moment of gutwrenching weightlessness whilst Vivianne's combat and base survival instincts screamed conflicting demands in confusion.
The moment came to a pass as she hit the ground. Her bare hands dragged across the rough floor and she felt her damaged helmet split open with the force of impact, her armour and momentum sent her grinding over the concrete carpark that she'd landed on before she came to a stop. A moment later the glass from the window she'd shattered on her way out caught up to her and coated her in a light razor crust. Her brain screamed at her legs to stand but her body had simply stopped responding.
With an agonised groan she rolled herself over and tried to tend to the worst of her injuries. Her eyes were weeping themselves raw after her cracked helmet had spattered them with freezing extinguisher-powder, but what remained of her vision warned her against rubbing it out as both of her hands had been scraped raw by her landing and were glazed with an unhappy combination of extinguisher, gravel, acid and glass shards. Instead she reached out a hand to grab the largest intact section of her helmet that was still within reach, she pressed a button on its side and spoke in a slow and deliberate tone that tried to mask the agony she was suffering.
"Annie Lennox... Lemmings... Laura... West carpark..." She released the microphone key as she felt a fresh stab of pain lance it's way down her neck, her jaw had been broken. "...Awaiting extraction." she spoke finally, before flattening into the ground with conscious but unmoving exhaustion. She managed to flex her limbs, so she knew that she hadn't been crippled, but when she tried to inventory her broken bones the pain forced her to stop at 'twelve'.

---

Back in the hospital Phoenix's armour glowed a solid white that gave the gas settling at his feet an almost ethereal quality. He waited until he head the slap of Vivianne's meat hitting the ground before he released a breath that he hadn't realize'd he'd been holding. This had been a close fight, one of his closest ever- in fact. The woman was clearly no simple thug and although her abilities were no match for his own the way that she'd used them had been exceptionally skilful, even as he'd harried her with continuous attacks she had given as good as she'd got, and Phoenix had lost count of the many near-deaths he'd avoided.
His muscles ached all over, and his limbs shook with involuntary adrenalin spasms as he unsteadily teetered over to the window to look down upon his victim.
He could see Vivianne lying still amid a sea of glass and crimson shards of her ruined armour. After he'd seen the destruction she'd caused Phoenix sincerely hoped that she was dead. His mind lifted from such dark thoughts as he saw a group of armoured men with drawn rifles hustle out of cover and take up positions around Lady Crimsons prone form.

He beamed a shining grin, run a hand through his hair, and called out to what he assumed to be a squad of riot control officers.
"PASS THE SERGEANT MY APOLOGIES!" His voice was hoarse from the abuse it'd suffered over the last few minutes, but he injected it with a double dose of heroism and bluster to makeup the difference. "- IT TOOK A WHILE LONGER THAN I'D HOPED, BUT HE CAN REST EASY IN THE KNOWLEDGE THAT I! -PHOENIX CRIMSON!- HAVE ONCE AGAI-"
*KA-BLAMNN!*
The Shwartze Augen soldier lowered his M72 LAW antitank weapon from his shoulder and quickly chambered another rocket, he was a specialist of Squad Annie Lennox.
Six minutes ago Laura had parsed Lieutenant Sommers broad orders into individual commands, and with her overwatching eye had guaranteed that the two squads met no resistance in occupying the area. The thin line of police officers that'd been waiting outside the hospitals main entrance, and the smaller squads around the rest of the building, had been easily dispatched and the Hospital was now entirely under Namidian control. The only fault in the plan had been with the Lieutenant herself, who'd failed to rendezvous with her units on time... and the Gifted she'd been fighting, who was still drawing breath.
"Annie Lennox, maintain position and train weapons on the hospital- second floor, fifth right section- above the ER dropoff. Terminate anything loud and red with maximum prejudice." Laura's voice chimed out an efficient set of instructions. Half of the squads weapons focused on the window with laser precision whilst the remaining Ghouls fanned out into a 360 degree defensive circle that left them without any blind spots.
"Lemmings, move in to assist Annie Lennox with the extraction of Lieutenant Sommers. Annie Lennox, data indicates that 'Phoenix Crimson' would have a 91.5% survival chance against that blast. Fire again."
*KA-BLAMNN!*
"Both units. Resume Phase Three operations immediately, we are cutting into our time buffer. Vehicular extraction for Lieutenant Sommers is en route."

Phoenix Crimson lay prone on the floor as he groaned in pain. In the life of a hero some days were better than others and the two rockets had definitively put his day in the 'pretty shitty' category. Fortunately the loud, slow, combustible, nature of missiles made them easy enough to counter and he'd survived with only a few pockmarks and slashes over his armour.
He had no idea who the soldiers who'd surrounded Lady Crimsons body were, but they clearly weren't fans. On reflection the style of their armour had been similar in form, if not colour, to the kind Vivianne had worn- given that she was well armed and trained it wouldn't be presumptuous to think she was part of a larger organisation. Daniel knew of several Namidian para-military sub-organisations, and he felt that he recognised the uniform of one particular group... something German... that he couldn't quite dislodge from the mire of his memory. Not whilst encumbered by his pounding head and combat exhaustion, at any rate.
"Persetan!" he swore in Malay as his bruises began to make themselves known.
He sat himself upright with a groan and tested the flaps of his armour, after a quick diagnostic he confirmed that after he'd gotten his second wind he'd be able to resume his patrol. He raised a finger to his temple and activated his masks communicator by habit.
"Phoenix Crimson checking in. Gifted Terrorist has been defeated at Advocate Lutharian Hospital, enemies possibly still in the area. Resuming sortie."
No one responded, of course. Communications were still down, and he suspected that they wouldn't be restored until Justice was finally restored to Chicago.
He stooped down and plucked the dissolved, burnt and bulletridden remains of his crimson scarf off the ground and tied it around his neck once more, he tossed it over his shoulder with a dramatic flick of his hand.
"Better get going."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:02, Fri 19 June 2015.

Bard hadn't been quite this... angry, in a long time. In a very long time. She had gotten far too confident there, and the pattern had payed for it with several years worth of damage in moments. It would take her weeks to repair that damage, and those were weeks she could be spending tracking down more men like those. She stood up, her pants re-knit and any limp gone from her leg. It still hurt; it likely would for hours to come, but it had full function back. That said, a helicopter had dropped into the street she'd dashed from earlier. She figured they'd picked up their agents, and it had departed quite a while ago. She considered tracking it, but with everything going on in the city, finding its pattern in the chaos this place was turning into would be almost impossible.  She poked her head out of the alley, casting quick glances up and down the street before dashing out and running towards the next largest knot she could find. At the very least, she could make up for her mistakes.

With enhanced speed, she made it through the city, mostly avoiding direct contact with any civilians, quickly. She lost a few minutes detouring around a brigade of policemen, but made it to City Hall in record time. She was abusing her powers at this point, but she felt it worth it. Too much shifting of her own pattern would eventually shatter it. Living patterns weren't supposed to do such radical shifts as hers, and the only thing keeping hers even remotely stable was her power itself. She examined the building quickly, trying to find the focal point for the knot, but it was large and spread out through much of it already. She whistled, the sound carrying an unnatural distance, and tested the chaos that was that building with a bit of order. Heavy resistance, but the knot yielded and unraveled just a small amount. She wasn't getting lucky today. She would need to find the focal point to completely unravel the knot.

She took a moment to orient herself. Slipping in unnoticed wouldn't be too difficult, at this point, but there was too much she would miss out here inside that building. She scouted out the streets, noting the placement of police troops. There weren't many, it appeared that most of them were inside the building, but the ones out here were setting themselves up for failure. These men would be her alert to any intruders. She slid through their ranks, twisting their patterns almost into incoherency before slipping them back into their, almost, natural states. Their was a thin pattern strand, comprised of just a small amount of all of their patterns, strung between all of them, and then tied into the surrounding part in the Grand Pattern. It was sloppy work, and if any of them survived whatever was going to happen here, if she didn't find them and undo it, their patterns would bleed out all of their energy within the year.

After that, she strolled up the building as if this was any other day. Every officer out here, when they died, would immediately dump all their remaining energy into the rest of the chain. None of them would ever amount up to the sheer power of even a weak Gifted, even with every other officers power in them, but the link was more for the effort of keeping them coordinated and in touch with their environment. For the rest of their lives, if she never repaired that link, they'd work so well together that it was almost as if they thought the same things.

The exterior of this building gave very little credit to the inside. Despite being blocky, and honestly, quite boring outside, the interior of this building was lavish. Marble floors, curvy staircases. Officers everywhere. Whatever they were protecting, it was extremely important that she find. The strands of that knot were twisty here, but with some effort she was able to follow it to a single floor, which she noted. After finding it, she quickly traveled to the roof. Their was a garden up here. That was... surprising. And the patterns up here were actually quite stable. Harder to work with stable patterns, but she would make do. She sat down, and began humming a series of complex note, weaving herself into the pattern of the building. She brushed her hand along her collar, another note popping into existence and beginning to weave confusion around her. She was prepared for whatever came her way this time. She'd set the battleground up in her favor before anybody else had shown up, and she was well prepared to take full advantage of it.

Vivianne clucked her tongue as the man seemed to converse with the police sergeant and then retreated into the hospital. Laura had already highlighted several strategically sound strong point int he hospital silently on her heads up so she headed for the nearest one. She might mock the hero, but he had an ITSDA jacket and that meant he was no chump. He clucked her tongue in a nervous habit even as she came out into a long, empty hall. A few beds and other things were scattered around room the rapid evacuation, so it would make a good attack point. She grinned as she grabbed a couple of half used air tanks off a wheel chair and headed for the stairs.

---

Daniel was making his way into the building and being so loud that his uniform could not compete, "Come out, Come out where ever you are... Come on, ti won't be THAT bad, I'll make it quick." He was moving down a corridor near the main entrance slowly, ready for the attack, when his nose caught the smell of something caustic. He frowned and looked right, left, up... "Come on.... I know you are here! MARCO!" His foot suddenly shifted, sank, and his eyes flared wide as he looked down just in time to see the floor beneath him dissolves like sugar in water. He made a choking sound as a powerful caustic smell rose through the floor and he fired a blast just under his feet as well as behind him which sent him careening down the hallway. He used a series of small, controlled blasts in a practiced order to have him suddenly land upright and facing the hole. His eyes flicked rapidly as his hands quickly threw his scarf over his shoulder. Suddenly, from the stairwell behind him he heard an ominous sound, "POLO!"

He reflexively fired another set of explosions to send him rocketing back down the hall as a hail of bullets followed him. He flipped and landed just and something went clank! at his feet. He looked down at what appeared to be a small, cigarette sized box. His world suddenly turned white and he cursed even as his well-trained instincts took over.  A man capable of flying via controlled explosions had a lot of training. He followed his nose and flew blind threw the hole. He felt whatever had eaten the hole smear along his left arm and eat away at his armor a bit as he passed, but no more bullets tinking along his armor.

Upstairs, Vivianne took a moment to take stock as she smoothly replaced the clip in her TMP. "Ma'am, he appears to use small kinetic explosions to augment his maneuverability. If he used the same explosions to augment his attack parameters, that would explain his ratings" She noted the information but took it with a grain of salt. Underestimating your opponent was bad form and she had once again lost visual track of an opponent. She ran back into the stairwell and went up three flights to the NICU. Time for the next test.

Phoenix ducked behind something solid feeling and waited the several long moments for his vision to return. Whoever he was facing, he had yet to make solid visual contact and she was using guerrilla tactics. He might call them "dirty" aloud, but his training was good enough for him to think highly of the training of his opponent as well. This was not some duel of honor or noble match, she was trying to win... and kill him. If he didn't have respect for that, then he would lose... and die. He stood and flipped his scarf over his shoulder again then headed for the stairs. If you were fighitng this type of fight, where would you go? High Ground he climbed the stairs slowly with reluctance. He knew that time for her was another trap for him, but better that than trip said trap. His heart sank as he came to the fourth floor and found a message scrawled in red marker in the NICU door, POLO. It wasn't a bluff, she was in there; but, what was the battlefield like?

He grit his teeth pulled up his resolve and stepped through the door. Something hit the top of his head. His training was good enough that he looked down instead of up. Looking up would have cost his life, that was where the attack had been, the ground was where it was now: a grenade. He dived back even as the High Explosive grenade exploded and his senses tracked the slow moving kinetic energies and used his own abilities to blow the door closed behind him and deflect what energy made it through the door. He rolled to look through the door even as a voice echoed from up the stairs, "Just like the heroes to think villains would kill babies..." He rolled as a round from Vivianne's revolver cratered the cement where his head had just been.

As shards of cement pelted his face, Phoenix kicked himself off the ground with a concentrated detonation under his heel, he hurtled into the air and used a second crack of energy to kick off from the stairwell wall just as second round dented the wall and sent more cement chips into the air. With a third wallkick Daniel shot up the stairs vertically and hurtled toward Vivianne with a furious battlecry on his lips, his fist pulled back and the glow of it's stored power redoubled whereas Vivianne's own hand inched up to lead Daniels path and tightened it's finger around her twin triggers as she leveled the TMp and Revolver at Daniel. She waited for the perfect shot.

The distance between the two closed in less than a second; Phoenix slashed his gauntleted fist around in a powerful but telegraphed strike which Viviane countered by simply taking a step back and letting the attack sail through the air where her head had just been, she dug the barrel of her guns into the young man's unarmoured gut and flashed a cruel smile that seemed to say 'I win. Tough luck, kid.'

"PHOENIX! -PUNCH!" At the final moment Phoenix finished the last syllable of his battlecry.

Energy crackled along Phoenix's entire body and collected to a pinprick just above his knuckle, too fast for either party to perceive the point shrunk down to a singularity and burst into a volatile'KRAC-CK!' of energy, even the indirect hit sent a blast through the room that threatened to boil the fluid in Vivianne's inner ear, and the blastwave pressed her down to brace a knee against the floor even as it blew open every door throughout the second floors corridor. Phoenix Crimson laughed in triumph as he succeeded in landing the first-hit.

"Hah -HA!"

Crimson screamed and almost dropped her pistols to cover her ears, but her training kept the weapons even as her helmet's sensors damped the effects of the attack and her suits biomonitor recorded the damage to her frame. Ma'am, close quarters combat with the target is inadvisable." Vivianne grit her teeth, Really, ya think so? Fuck. She shook her head and fired a pulse from her TMP toward where her helmet was telling her he had landed, her eyes not having recovered yet. Ma'am, your targets are here and here. Be advised, Lemmings and Annie Lennox are on scene and neutralizing the CPD forces. Vivianne registered his position with the two targets and snapped fired her revolver twice at the air tanks she had borrowed. They exploded feet from Phoenix even as Vivianne vaulted over the stair railing blindly and landed a floor below.

Phoenix was rocked and shaken by the explosions, but his senses had damped most of the force. Still, his armor was showing the wear and his scarf was a singed tatter around his neck now. He stood slowly and shakily and realized he was going to have to track her down again, walk into yet another trap, and hope this one went better. Still, that last pass had to have hurt her as well.

---

Vivianne crouched down and took several long breaths. Running with cracked ribs was a lot less fun than it sounded. She grunted and looked over the counter of the ward she was in now. Higher floor still; she had circled to another stairwell and went up again. She mindlessly reloaded her revolver and checked her TMP, last half a clip. She thought out another trap and grunted. Her sensors noted his approach again and she chuckled as the idea hit her and she sent several orders.

She was sitting on the counter, legs crossed, as he entered and she tilted her head to the side. If she wasn't wearing the all covering helmet, he'd have sworn she was grinning, "You're fun, kid, but I am behind schedule and my boss is a real... well, ballbuster, for lack of a better word."

Phoenix got his first real good look at her now and the armor and mention of a boss gave him the clues he needed, "Schwartze Augen, huh? Dieter Sievold. Yeah, I'll bet, ITSDA has him listed as confirmed assassinated three times. Wanna explain? Oh, Nice outfit by the way, but the two of us are a bit gaudy together, yeah?"

She laughed and shook her helmeted head, "How the fuck you think I would know... his secrets? Might as well ask me about Namidias. What can I say, I like red. The blood doesn't show as badly. Nice job here today, kid, you almost won..." Daniel was about to respond in the banter that was building when she rolled back suddenly and fell behind the counter even as the wall to his left disappeared in a hail of gunfire as Squad Lemmings' M249 chewed the wall to bits then set a hail of lead toward Phoenix who barely avoided it with a blast at his back that sent him out a window. On the roof above the ward stood three men with machine guns trained on him who opened fire. He twisted in the air and fired a burst that sent him up and close to 300m/s. He still felt something rattle along his side and tear into his right thigh.

Crimson limped to the hole in the wall and followed the target up even as she put a hand to her cracked ribs and ordered a Banshee mobilized. She grinned as her suits sensors tracked him. She gave the kid a lot of credit for taking her on when she got to pick the battlefield and coming back for more time and again. He'd even been kind of good looking, in that heroically blonde sort of way. Confirmations from various sources around the city filtered into her ear and she clucked her tongue as she gave the order for her two squads to evac and head for the Church. One thing Dieter would not be happy about was Cimmeria being taken out. "GITS, sit rep on the Church? Laura, update Phoenix Crimson's files."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:43, Fri 19 June 2015.

Gates studied the church. "There was some yelling and a loud crash earlier but other than that it has been quiet."

Phonix Crimson released a theatrically exaggerated sigh of exasperation. "That never works. They always want to put up a fight." He handed the microphone back to the officer he'd taken it from.
"...Shame, really." he said, without disappointment. "Sergeant, please wait outside. This should only take a few minutes." He put on his cockiest grin and slowly strode towards the hospital's entrance, as he walked he shook the tension out of his arms and casually stretched his shoulders with circular shrugs.

He passed through the hospitals automatic glass entrance and came to a stop in the reception area. There was no sign of Vivianne, which meant that she was preparing a trap that Phoenix'd have no choice but to walk into. This suited Daniel just fine; his line of work didn't usually give him the luxury of fighting at an advantage, and at the very least it'd give him a moment to consider his enemy:
Viviane had taken out an entire unit of Swat troopers by herself, so it could be deduced that she was gifted- although Phoenix wasn't sure in which way, yet.
The reception area was a thinly furnished and open-planned affair, with only a few sterile desks, support columns, and utilitarian couches to break up the room. Doors and corridors along the ground floor lead into the further wings of the facility and into waiting rooms, shops and an efficiently placed canteen. With the power out the only light illuminating the room came from the mirrored floor-to-ceiling windows that plated the buildings ground floor. The room was completely silent.
As Daniel stepped further into the building he could see the still corpse of a SWAT Officer slumped over a stairwell banister, he had been shot squarely between the eyes with a single bullet. Whoever his foe was she was skilled, very skilled; the guard looked as though he hadn't even had time to fire off a shot before he'd been efficiently put down. He lifted the mans head to examine the entry wound, it was an ugly fat wound that looked like the kind of mark that high-calibre low-velocity bullet could leave. A revolver, Daniel guessed. He replaced the man and continued onwards. Without Police Officers to showoff to, and nothing but the eerily dead hospital surrounding him, the bright enthusiasm that he'd entered the building with with was gradually sapped and replaced with a bitter sense of purpose. He told himself that he'd feel better after he'd had the chance to throw Vivianne through a few walls.

---

His path took him down one of the hospitals many hallways. The sterile furnishings, uniformly placed drinking fountains, fire extinguishers, and two-tone laminated floor made it seem indistinguishable from the rest of the facility but the overhead signs set at each junction claimed that he was walking past the first floor Emergency Rooms. Here the building was fully enclosed and windowless, only the pulsing orange-white light of his armours heatsinks and the glowing charge he kept maintained in his right fist kept Daniel from stumbling over the particularly thick trail of corpses that'd lead him here. After a long minute of fruitless searching he stopped to call out a challenge: "This is your plan? Hide and seek?! I guess that you're not as great in a fair fight as you are at slaughtering the helpless." His challenge came out angrier than he'd meant, seeing the senseless destruction paired with the dismal surroundings had pricked his temper and caused him to think rashly... which of course was why Vivianne had lured him down here: Angry heroes made mistakes- such as giving away their position with loud outbursts.

"Whatever you say, boy."
Daniels head snapped up to the ceiling as Vivianne broke her silence, his reactions fired a bolt of lightning down his spine as his dim vision adjusted to spot olive green beads of corrosive solution bubble the ceiling above him. A warning droplet splashed onto the ground by his feet and chewed a hissing pit into the floor, instantly and without warning the ceiling along the entire length of corridor bulged outward and acid gushed in torrents down onto the ground where he'd just been standing, great chunks of rubble slammed into the ground and sunk away as the pool of acid washed outwards before receding again as it dug it's way through another floor and drained into the basement. From her perch on the floor above Vivianne admired her handiwork with a sly grin. She'd used her Ghoul helmet's suite of echo-locators to plan her strike but now that the air had filled with caustic vapour and shifting rubble she switched to low-light vision, she leaned over the precipice she'd made as she waited to confirm her kill. If the air, acid or rubble hadn't killed him her drawn TMP certainly would. Dropping a floors worth of chemically-drenched rubble onto her target had been excessive and impersonal by her standards but she wasn't in the mood to draw this fight out for long, her Units would soon be in position and she intended to begin Phase Three of her mission immediately. As the mist parted her highly contrasted vision picked out the glowing white lines of Phoenix's armour, a moment later it cleared enough to show that he'd narrowly been able to leap back from her initial attack and had used his ridiculous scarf to filter his lungs from the congested air.

"I'm almost impressed!" she laughed, honestly. "You're light on your feet, for such a loudmouthed idiot!" Her finger traced playful circles around the pin of one of her White Phosphorus grenades. "Thanks. I like your uniform..." Phoenix returned. He threw his crimson scarf from his mouth and struck a pose, this time raising his striking arm in a karate-like pose. "...but one of us is going to have to change!"
Lady Crimson snorted derisively, her quarry was back to throwing out inane soundbites. <#Red>"You shouldn't have gotten involved. Goodbye forever."</Red> With a casual flick of her wrist she plucked the Grenade from her holster, popped the pin, and tossed it in an underhanded spin to bounce past Phoenixes feet before spilling it's deadly chemical payload in a great surge of gaseous powder.

Daniel had to act quickly, whether it was from warcrime-grade phosphorous or acid rain the crimson psychopath seemed intent on killing him the the most painful way possible. His survival would be decided in a mere moment, and time seemed to slow to a crawl as the two Gifted committed their full skill and focus against each other. As the armed cylinder hit the ground and bounced once past his boot Phoenix kicked himself off the ground with a concentrated detonation under his heel, he hurtled into the air and used a second crack of energy to kick off from the corridor wall just as the grenade bounced a second time and blossomed into a swell of pale smog. With a third wallkick Daniel cleared what was once the ground floor ceiling and hurtled toward Vivianne with a furious battlecry on his lips, his fist pulled back and the glow of it's stored power redoubled whereas Vivianne's own hand inched up to lead Daniels path and tightened it's finger around her TMP's trigger.
The distance between the two closed in less than a second; Phoenix slashed his gauntleted fist around in a powerful but telegraphed strike which Viviane countered by simply taking a step back and letting the attack sail through the air where her head had just been, she dug the stubby barrel of her gun into the young man's unarmoured gut and flashed a cruel smile that seemed to say 'I win. Tough luck.'
"PHOENIX! -PUNCH!" At the final moment Phoenix finished the last syllable of his battlecry.
Energy crackled along Phoenix's entire body and collected to a pinprick just above his knuckle, too fast for either party to perceive the point shrunk down to a singularity and burst into a volatile'KRAC-CK!' of energy, even the indirect hit sent a blast through the room that threatened to boil the fluid in Vivianne's inner ear, and the blastwave pressed her down to brace a knee against the floor even as it blew open every door throughout the second floors corridor. Phoenix Crimson laughed in triumph as he succeeded in landing the first-hit.
"Hah -HA!"

Vivianne's perception floundered against the unexpected sensory assault as her Ghoul helmet desperately triggered it's flashbang and counter-noise compensators, her highly-drilled combat instincts screamed at her not to reflexively seize her finger against her trigger or to flinch into a guard, and instead she fell back upon the simple mantra that'd served her through her years of service as a ranker Ghoul and continued to serve her as a Lieutenant: "When in doubt, lash out."
From her pained crouching position she snapped her palm upward and felt it connect with the pliable flesh of Daniels throat, which shut the little bastard up for a moment at least. Her octuple vision refocused whilst her blacked-out visor made what little light shone from the thrown open-second storey windows almost tolerable against her hyper-dilated pupils. With her restored vision she could see that Daniel had landed behind her but her strike had prevented him from following up with a second punch, currently he stood almost doubled over and clutching at his throat and Vivianne's ringing ears distantly registered that he was trying to croak out another speech. Vivianne didn't care to hear it, her wrist-stab hadn't been direct enough to crush Daniel's Laryinx but she wouldn't let that happen again, from now on she intended make every action a killing one.
The blood pounding in her ears subsidised enough to let her regain her balance and her helmet was obliging enough to reduce the rooms noise to a comparative whisper while she recovered, an electronic notification sprung up on the corner of her vision and she knew it's meaning without having to examine it: Squads Lemmings and Annie Lennox had arrived at the Hospital and this morons interference had put her behind schedule. She ground her teeth together furiously and a scarlet flush of rage ran it's way up her neck as a thought crossed her mind: 'Dieter won't tolerate this.'

She locked eye's with Phoenix Crimson to the extent that their opaque masks would allow as they sized each other up and planned their next moves.
Vivianne reacted before Phoenix and fired her TMP from the hip to scatter lead at his retreating figure, the Hero turned, sprinted and dived inside one of the wards recovery rooms before any of the rounds managed to find a solid hit- but as Daniel dived to cover Lady Crimson saw a round ricochet off his right shoulder plate, another whip between his pounding legs and several more pluck holes through his trailing scarf. Phoenix Crimson twisted from his dive and franticly rolled into the relative safety one of the floors Recovery Rooms. His heavy breathing indicated the closest thing to fear that he ever allowed himself to feel in combat, the airy and well-windowed recovery room was deceptively calming compared to the hell that the rest of the building had become, but Phoenix resisted the urge to ease his guard- he could afford complacency in some of his fights, but this wasn't one of them.
Bullets were his biggest, and most unfortunately common, weakness; he could outmanuver the arm that fired them, but the rounds themselves travelled faster than his feet, his blasts, and even faster than thought- and it only took a single direct hit to take him out of action. From Daniels perspective Vivianne's compact little submachinegun was easily more dangerous than any of her grenades, acids, or shockingly strong combat maneuvers. His reactions and agility had narrowly saved him this time, but blind luck had definitely played it's part.

He could hear Vivianne's footsteps stamping closer in a heavy sprint, he guessed that she intended to press her advantage and corner him in the room and so he heaved himself to his feet to meet her challenge head on. Vivianne barged into the recovery room only moments after Daniel, and it's designed tranquility exploded into anarchy as she waved her weapon over everything inside in an extended barrage that smashed windows, shredded hospital charts midair, and reduced a roomful of medical hardware to plastic shards. Her vision spun around as she tried to find her target, and as her weapon snapped around to clear the near-corners of the room Phoenix lunged from his hiding place behind the door to grab Vivianne by the wrist and twist her gun-arm to harmlessly face the ceiling. Phoenix Crimson followed up his counterattack with a series of jabbed punches into Vivianne's side, each time he hit he did so with a gunshot spark that buckled her armour and would have ended the fight against a normal opponent, but only seemed to drive the wind from her. She was made of stronger stuff than even her militaristic and intimidating frame would suggest, and as she contracted her muscles to force the barrel of her weapon back toward Daniel it quickly became apparent that she was the physically stronger of the two. Without time to charge his attacks Daniel's punches had lost most of their power.

The two wrestled in silence for a long second, both their hands were grappled around the submachine gun's handle and Phoenix began to feel his muscles give way as the woman's enhanced strength brought her line of fire to within inches of Daniels face with slow inevitability. Phoenix tried to jam the trigger down to spend the rest of her bullets but she stopped him by hooking a finger behind the triggers frame.
"You look pissed. Did something come up, or are you always like this?" Phoenix taunted glibly, although his clenched teeth and groans of exertion told Vivianne that he was struggling not to give way. "You shouldn't get so worked up. It's not a hot look."
"You little shit!" She wanted to to put a bullet through his skull as much as she wanted to punch him in the throat again, but neither so much as she wanted to get the fight over with and rejoin the broader battlefield. Images of Dieter's quiet scowl, and the subtle threat that implied, etched themselves onto her thoughts and triggered a very real and personal fear within her. As they struggled her masks messenger system updated it's earlier notification to an orange alert. She was falling behind schedule. "Just die already!"
She decided to employ a dirty trick; with a single economic movement she released the grip of her off-hand from her weapon and gathered a thin layer of thin acid against her burnt and scarred palm before attempting to slap the hand against Phoenix's mask. Her own acids were just as damaging to herself as they were to her opponents, but she'd find it easier to deal with another layer of calloused skin across her palm than Phoenix would with two eye sockets full of the stuff. She loathed using the trick but it came in useful now and then, it was always painful, and it was always messy.

Phoenix Crimson felt the crushing pressure of Vivianne's strength suddenly release and could see her hand swing at his vision. It wasn't until he'd dodged under the arm with a drunken step that he saw the skin on her palm was blistering and bubbling away. Vivianne shifted her feet into a reversal posture and chopped her palm back to Phoenix's head with a lightening-quick fencers lunge. Realizing that attempting to block the attack would coat his arms in the same substance that was eating away at his opponent Daniel twisted his dodge around to dart past Vivianne's side and out of the doorway back into the corridor that he'd fled from.
His retreat took him one, two, and almost a third step out of the recovery room before the scarf trailing behind him was snatched in a vicelike grip and yanked sharply into his damaged neck, he turned on his heel to face back towards the room before a second savage tug pulled him to the ground. He unconciously released a strained 'Glark!' from his constricted windpipe as his legs kicked out uslessly, one of his hands scrabbled to undo the taut knot that'd suddenly imprisoned him whilst the other dragged it's fingers along the corridor wall in a desperate attempt to find purchase to resist the force that'd started to pull him back into Vivianne's line of sight...

Vivianne twisted the red cloth of Daniels scarf around her fist a third time before heaving her arm backward with irresistible force, she heard a painful choke and a slight give of resistance as the fabric yielded another foot. Her off-hand was still wet with mild acid and she ignored the burn of her raw skin on fabric as she wound her fist and tugged again, her main hand clutched her machine-pistol and she knew the weapon only had a quarter-clip remaining. Vivianne's dense muscles contracted and snapped back on her preys leash with another mighty pull, the cloth hit heavy resistance before coming away with a sudden flutter that forced her to take a step back to keep her balance. She tossed the crimson rag aside and brandished her weapon at the vacant doorway just as the wall beside it crushed inward with explosive force. She ignored the masonry shrapnel that pelted at her armour and started firing careful single shots into the gap in the hopes of clipping Phoenix without squandering what little remained of her clip. Flying grit and debris obscured her sight but she heard the bullet punch through something metal, the debris filling her vision was pierced by a shrill hiss and she saw a jet of angled white gas sweep under her vision before arcing up to crash into her chin with enough force to crack the lenses of Vivianne's helmet and wrench her neck upward at a terrible angle.

Phoenix Crimson's uppercut the fire-extinguisher into the hitwoman's neck with all his might, the red cylinder had taken a bullet for him and he felt it welt into her chinstrap with enough force to crumple the metal and vent what remained of it's pressurised contents into a freezing gaseous powder that blinded the pair and forced it's way into their lungs. Vivianne's vision blacked out for a moment as her helmet took the blow, she could taste blood pooling in her mouth and the strike had turned her around to face an unknown direction- she started firing into the all-enveloping mist in an attempt to keep Phoenix at bay, and as her vision returned she heard the hollow deadman's click of her gun running dry. Her eyes widened as she saw a sudden glow expand from the fog and dive toward her.
"PHOENIX!-"
She forced her battered body to respond, and attempted to quickdraw her sidearm-
"-KICK!"
Both Phoenix Crimsons boots blew into her side, and with a deafening crash she felt herself lifted bodily from the ground and hurtled through a pane of glass. Her spiralling vision suddenly filled with sunlight and air rushed past her as she shot from the buildings second storey window like a cannonball... there was a brief moment of gutwrenching weightlessness whilst Vivianne's combat and base survival instincts screamed conflicting demands in confusion. The moment came to a pass as she hit the ground. Her bare hands dragged across the rough floor and she felt her damaged helmet split open with the force of impact, her armour and momentum sent her grinding over the concrete carpark that she'd landed on before she came to a stop. A moment later the glass from the window she'd shattered on her way out caught up to her and coated her in a light razor crust. Her brain screamed at her legs to stand but her body had simply stopped responding.

With an agonised groan she rolled herself over and tried to tend to the worst of her injuries. Her eyes were weeping themselves raw after her cracked helmet had spattered them with freezing extinguisher-powder, but what remained of her vision warned her against rubbing it out as both of her hands had been scraped raw by her landing and were glazed with an unhappy combination of extinguisher, gravel, acid and glass shards. Instead she reached out a hand to grab the largest intact section of her helmet that was still within reach, she pressed a button on its side and spoke in a slow and deliberate tone that tried to mask the agony she was suffering.
 "Annie Lennox... Lemmings... Laura... West carpark..." She released the microphone key as she felt a fresh stab of pain lance it's way down her neck, her jaw had been broken. <#Red>"...Awaiting extraction."<#/Red> she spoke finally, before flattening into the ground with conscious but unmoving exhaustion. She managed to flex her limbs, so she knew that she hadn't been crippled, but when she tried to inventory her broken bones the pain forced her to stop at 'twelve'.

<#hr>

Back in the hospital Phoenix's armour glowed a solid white that gave the gas settling at his feet an almost ethereal quality. He waited until he head the slap of Vivianne's meat hitting the ground before he released a breath that he hadn't realize'd he'd been holding. This had been a close fight, one of his closest ever- in fact. The woman was clearly no simple thug and although her abilities were no match for his own the way that she'd used them had been exceptionally skilful, even as he'd harried her with continuous attacks she had given as good as she'd got, and Phoenix had lost count of the many near-deaths he'd avoided. His muscles ached all over, and his limbs shook with involuntary adrenalin spasms as he unsteadily teetered over to the window to look down upon his victim. He could see Vivianne lying still amid a sea of glass and crimson shards of her ruined armour. After he'd seen the destruction she'd caused Phoenix sincerely hoped that she was dead. His mind lifted from such dark thoughts as he saw a group of armoured men with drawn rifles hustle out of cover and take up positions around Lady Crimsons prone form.

He beamed a shining grin, run a hand through his hair, and called out to what he assumed to be a squad of riot control officers. "PASS THE SERGEANT MY APOLOGIES!" His voice was hoarse from the abuse it'd suffered over the last few minutes, but he injected it with a double dose of heroism and bluster to makeup the difference. "- IT TOOK A WHILE LONGER THAN I'D HOPED, BUT HE CAN REST EASY IN THE KNOWLEDGE THAT I! -PHOENIX CRIMSON!- HAVE ONCE AGAI-"
*KA-BLAMNN!*
The Shwartze Augen soldier lowered his M72 LAW antitank weapon from his shoulder and quickly chambered another rocket, he was a specialist of Squad Annie Lennox.
Six minutes ago Laura had parsed Lieutenant Sommers broad orders into individual commands, and with her overwatching eye had guaranteed that the two squads met no resistance in occupying the area. The thin line of police officers that'd been waiting outside the hospitals main entrance, and the smaller squads around the rest of the building, had been easily dispatched and the Hospital was now entirely under Namidian control. The only fault in the plan had been with the Lieutenant herself, who'd failed to rendezvous with her units on time... and the Gifted she'd been fighting, who was still drawing breath.
"Annie Lennox, maintain position and train weapons on the hospital- second floor, fifth right section- above the ER dropoff. Terminate anything loud and red with maximum prejudice." Laura's voice chimed out an efficient set of instructions. Half of the squads weapons focused on the window with laser precision whilst the remaining Ghouls fanned out into a 360 degree defensive circle that left them without any blind spots.
"Lemmings, move in to assist Annie Lennox with the extraction of Lieutenant Sommers. Annie Lennox, data indicates that 'Phoenix Crimson' would have a 91.5% survival chance against that blast. Fire again."
*KA-BLAMNN!*
"Both units. Resume Phase Three operations immediately, we are cutting into our time buffer. Vehicular extraction for Lieutenant Sommers is en route."

Phoenix Crimson lay prone on the floor as he groaned in pain. In the life of a hero some days were better than others and the two rockets had definitively put his day in the 'pretty shitty' category. Fortunately the loud, slow, combustible, nature of missiles made them easy enough to counter and he'd survived with only a few pockmarks and slashes over his armour. He had no idea who the soldiers who'd surrounded Lady Crimsons body were, but they clearly weren't fans. On reflection the style of their armour had been similar in form, if not colour, to the kind Vivianne had worn- given that she was well armed and trained it wouldn't be presumptuous to think she was part of a larger organisation. Daniel knew of several Namidian para-military sub-organisations, and he felt that he recognised the uniform of one particular group... something German... that he couldn't quite dislodge from the mire of his memory. Not whilst encumbered by his pounding head and combat exhaustion, at any rate.

"Persetan!" he swore in Malay as his bruises began to make themselves known.He sat himself upright with a groan and tested the flaps of his armour, after a quick diagnostic he confirmed that after he'd gotten his second wind he'd be able to resume his patrol. He raised a finger to his temple and activated his masks communicator by habit. "Phoenix Crimson checking in. Gifted Terrorist has been defeated at Advocate Lutharian Hospital, enemies possibly still in the area. Resuming sortie." No one responded, of course. Communications were still down, and he suspected that they wouldn't be restored until Justice was finally restored to Chicago. He stooped down and plucked the dissolved, burnt and bulletridden remains of his crimson scarf off the ground and tied it around his neck once more, he tossed it over his shoulder with a dramatic flick of his hand.

"Better get going."
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:38, Sat 20 June 2015.

Frank grunted to himself in satisfaction as he heard the font hit something, then reached into a pocket and pulled out a pack of smokes from which he extracted a cancer stick with his lips. He turned and walked away from the alter, stepping over the dead squad bodies without pause until he came to a pew with a tongue of fire still licking at it; the old man bend forward, lit his cigarette, stood back up, and with one bare palm extinguished the flame. Then, he moved about the bodies, collecting all the ammo, weapons, and gear that he could which looked useful. Frank honestly had no idea why the Wave wanted this place, but they did, and that alone was reason enough for him not to let them have it. He didn't think any of the squad he'd killed had had time to radio in, but it wouldn't be all that long before they missed a check and others came looking. He was going to need help, but a test of his cell phone told him he was SOL in relying on it.

The war hero looked around, and an idea came to him; he moved about the church and collected up all the prayer candles he found still intact and holy water basins. He emptied the latter, arranged them in a circle under the hole he'd blown in the roof, placed the candles inside, then lit them all. The large amount of light was amplified by the metal, then Jackson returned to the alter and removed the cloth and returned to his invention. He took the fabric in both hands, held it over the light, then pulled back only to replace the cover. He did this again and again, some times faster sometimes slower.

The fighter figured someone somewhere on his side had ordered a satilite view of Chicago, and with a bit of luck his little light show would be picked up. Now, if there was another old fart whose still remembered Morse Code, Frank would be in business...
This message was last updated by the player at 00:23, Sat 20 June 2015.

In the Church, several pieces of the gear from the soldiers smoked and fizzled as the internal circuitry fried itself. Much of it was useless now, as was often the case with Schwatrze Augen recovered technology.

---

The bright red M113 sped along the street away from the Hospital car park flanked in front and in back by black twins. Within the red APC, a Redcap medic worked furiously on Vivianne's form under the burden of being allowed local anesthetic only. She might be out of the fight physically, but she still needed to be able to give orders. As soon as the feed from the Church was up and the report in, she pursed her lips tightly and shook her head.

"Ma'am, biomonitor feedback from Squad Bananas is flat. 100% casualties. We have this image of the assailant. Suicide protocols enacted on all gear." Vivianne stared at the image of some old man drawing and eradicating one of her elite squads with casual ease and grit her teeth, that bastard would pay. "Reports from the fight indicate a rapid healing factor, near instantaneous." Vivianne only grinned, "Noted. Refresh Destroyer protocols. Have Squad Link's Banshees get into position once we roll in. Redcap to ho..." Vivianne hissed as the Redcap applied another fast cast to her left leg. She'd be laid up for months once she got back to base, but not until after the operation was over.

"Redcap to hold back with me. APCs take that fucking building out and I want it fucking filmed. GITS, act in support of our efforts as you see fit. I want video of all targets from Phase One at maximum destruction on the net now. This is a god damned terror campaign, so lets terrorize some folks, yeah?" She grit her teeth again as the APC rocked. The trio of vehicles pulled up in front of the Church and a trio of M47 Dragons and .50 Caliber Machine Guns opened up on the church, beginning the process of chewing it to bits.

---

Far, far away, Dieter grimaced as reports rolled in. He had expected ITSDA mobilization and losses, but this was a bit too much. True, it was within projections and acceptable, but he would have liked things to work a bit better. He pursed his lips as Namidian forces maneuvered to engage in Phase 3 and Crimson gave their tech specialist orders to implement Phase Two, the terror campaign. He smiled as he considered the true objectives of the Chicago Campaign and flicked through a few reports of hero movements around town, looking for the exact right spot for Phase Four. Still, he wondered if he had not assigned enough manpower to the assault. With Cimmeria incommunicado, his resources might be stretched a bit. He dialed a number and asked to see a list of Namidian resources and contacts in the vicinity.

Gates smiled and reached into his jacket and brought out four small devices with cameras and propellers on them. He manipulated a few small buttons on them and they took to the sky. He pulled out a control device and one moved towards the church and all the others moved to the other various locations that had been targeted. With the press of a button the feed want live to the net on every website available. "The feed is live. We are golden."

Megalodon's cameras swivelled in their mountings as the technicians manning them searched for new targets, one of the cameras swept over the Cathedral and it's lens twisted into focus as it's operator found something worth reporting.

"Sir! Flashes of light from Cimmeria's last known location. It looks like someone on the ground has found a creative solution to the blackout." The technician turned from his display console to look to his Commander, only to find the supervillan with his eyes locked on the screen and tapping a message into the armrest keyboard of his chair.
"It's Morse." Commander confirmed. "Keep the camera locked, I want to read this."
"Cimmeria... Namidias... Jackson..." Commander had already begun translating the screens feed, and had begun transcribing it onto the main screen as a subtitle while the message spelt itself out letter by letter. It resolved into a short statement that the hitwoman 'Cimmeria' had been defeated, and that armed backup was urgently requested. Tanks, specifically. What followed was a string of Names, Numbers and Locations that identified the location and rank of a man named Frank Jackson as well as a military service code.

Commander stood up from his chair, strode over to within feet of his main screen, and gave what he'd written one of his especially stern scowls.
"It can't be that Frank Jackson, surely! -You! Run the numbers on that serial!"
The technician that'd spoken earlier entered the eight-digit number into his terminal and a nanosecond later the vast computers that filled the majority of Commanders control centre returned the information that they held on record. The technician had expected the query to return a military-issue service record; but instead the computers sent a list of new articles, police records, honours and other scrap information that sent text scrolling down his screen. The technician took a moment to boggle at the overload of information before he found a suitably concise summary of the man's achievements:
"Franklin Jackson. Born... 1950. Served in the NYCPD. Served in Vietnam as part of a court deal and was awarded a Medal of Honour in-" -Commander interrupted- "-1975, for his exploit in freeing himself and seventeen comrades from a Vietnamese death camp in an event that would become known as 'Hell's March'."
Commanders voice had lost it's usually stern edge as he talked, and took on an almost awed tone and his eyes widened as he felt an uncommon sense of Nostalgia.
"...when I was a boy I must have read the novelization of 'Hell March' three or four times. I saw the films too..."
Commander realised that his men were trying very hard not to stare at him, and he reset his face to it's normal severe look as he recloseted his inner Military-History fanboy.
"'Action Jackson' should be an antique, though. Why the hell is he in Chicago, and how the HELL did he manage to defeat Cimmeria?!"

"This complicates things." He turned back to his command throne and took long purposeful strides back up the room. "You!- Inform the rest of the 'Wave about Jacksons message, tell them it's unconfirmed. You!- Reroute 'Numbered Breathern' and 'Zero Comets' to City Hall. You!- Get me a Coffee! Black!"

---

Smoke's radio headset buzzed in his ear and he cupped a hand over it to make out what it was trying to tell him, and he had to ask for the message to be repeated before his pounding head finally caught up to the message. After he'd put a bullet into whoever the pair of Namidans had been fighting she'd countered by throwing a sonic blast that seemed to disorient him with bone-deep reverberations, and he could still hear his soldiers and hostages in the 'chopper above him suffering it's effects. Smokes had always been fast to recover, though, and after he sent a return message through his radio he offered Ash and Zenith an apologetic but insincere shrug.
"Sorreh' for intrudin' on y'hr... whateve' this is." he said, still remembering the two villains compromising introduction with an amused smirk. "-but ah' gotta' jet. Work, y'ken? Ye' have new orders tae."
He thumbed a key on his winch, and the rope connecting him to his transport snapped tight as it respooled and pulled him back into the air, his helicopter started to pull away but dust before his ride had taken him completely out of earshot he yelled out a final thing.
"Y'HR ADORABL' T'GETH'R, BY TH' WAY! BAH-HAHAHA-HA!"

Still chuckling to himself, Smokes climbed back into the passengerside door of his helicopter and closed it behind him, the noise assaulting his ears changed from the rush of air outside to the wailing groans of the passengers inside. Although his soldiers had all recovered their wits the hostages that he'd taken were still clutching their ears and complaining loudly. Smokes shut up the closest and whiniest of his prisoners with a kick before addressing his troops:
"DIG THA' SHIT OUTTA' Y'R EARS AN' LIST'N UP! WE'RE T' DIVERT T' CITY HALL, WE HAVE AH' NEW ITEM F'R OUR SHOPPIN' LIST!"
He took his rifle and exchanged the clip it held for a fresh one. He'd only fired a handful bullets since he'd disembarked but he took the precaution anyway, you could get a lot of mileage out of a single gunshot.
"THA' MAYORS NO' EVACUA'ED YET, BUT 'ES WELL GUARDED. OUGHTA BE FUN!"

The ZeroComet's transport returned along a similar route that it'd come, and a few blocks away from the freshly pillaged Thompson Centre it changed it's course to face the whitewashed building that served as the office to Chicago's local government. Two speakers built into the nose of the helicopter blasted out a message to the building's occupants as the pilot read the script he'd been passed.
"Occupants of City Hall, on behalf of the Namidan Wave and The Commander, we now claim dominion over this building and yourselves. Follow our demands and you will be spared, resist and your survival cannot be guaranteed."
A missile detached itself from the rack bolted onto to helicopters side and crashed against the front doors to city hall with a sudden blast that reduced the buildings main entrance to an impassible mound of fire and rubble.
"Demand one: No one enters, no one leaves."
The helicopter climbed in altitude and passed it's shadow along each floor of the squat buildings face.
"Demand two: Turn over the mayor. You have five minutes to comply, or punative action shall be taken."
Like this, the helicopter circled the building. Any visible policemen outside would be pinned down with machinegun fire and any extra exits would be demolished- it would only be then that the helicopter would climb to the top level and attempt to disgorge it's cargo of unstable psychopaths onto the buildings rooftop garden to begin their operation.

---

On the tenth floor of City Hall a window smashed inwards as a tethered harpoon shot through it and buried itself in the far wall of the empty and darkened office it'd landed in. Five quick figures ziplined their way inside and cut the rope with a well practised action, they fanned out to fill the corners of the room and each readied their weapons.
Their leaders, a male and female pair, checked in:
"Unit 'Numbered Brethren' is in position. Commencing capture of target." said the female of the pair, Brethren One, on a broadwave transmission that'd reach their companions on the roof above.
"Scan the building, 'Brethren Three'. The mayor will likely be with the largest concentration of armed men." said, Brethren Two, the male leader.

The 'Numbered Brethren' were Commanders Elite espionage unit, and zealous believers in his ultimate goal. The unit lacked the diversity of appearance and personality that many of The Commanders other units boasted, and each member of the Brethren was a consummate professional who was solely dedicated to their mission. They did not take new names after each mission, they did not work for a mere paycheck, and they did. not. make. mistakes.

Each member was dressed in the same uniform. A blacked out one-way helmet that left their face as a featureless oval, and a set of battlearmour that incorporated photo-reactive panels that could be set to the same shade as their surroundings; although the technology wasn't advanced enough to make them invisible, they would be as equally difficult to spot in a darkened room as a fully lit one. They each wore a glove that could either deliver electric shocks to a target, or to interface electronics with Commanders own computer systems to instantly hack almost any device. Besides that they carried almost nothing, if their mission went according to plan they would be able to capture the Mayor and extract him before event he guards by his side noticed he was missing- if they were forced into direct conflict they would have already failed in their objective.

With a single objective, and the city already in chaos, the unit considered this to be a simple mission. With the ZeroComets doing their best to act as a distraction and to panic the civilians trapped inside their mission ought to be even simpler.
"Move out."
And the room was empty.

The first missile had just launched from its tube when there was a heavy explosion, and the APC the dragon had launched from was reduced to no more than flaming scrap. No one inside survived, as evidenced by panicked screams and cries of pain followed by sudden silence. The gunner aboard the second carrier pushed the ordered attack, but his 50 cal. ammunition exploded and sent him flying; he was thrown prone to the ground on his back, still alive thanks to his armor but out of this fight.

"Enemy has explosive rounds! Execute evasive maneuvers and move to flank!"

The two remaining APC units split to the left and right of the church, moving out of direct sight of the front. Vehicle 2 fired a dragon into one bottom corner of their side, followed immediately by another hit to the opposite corner. One more strike to the lower center, and the entire walls came crashing down bringing a good chunk of the roof with it. To give them the chance to do this, vehicle 3 had opened up with its 50 cal. the second it had turned the corner and hadn't let up for even a second.

Inside the building, Frank decided he wasn't having the best of days as one wall came smashing down to cover him with a choking cloud and various Saints were reduced to plaster bits. What glass was left in the remains of the still existing windows tickled down, and the old man knew why; the enemy had taken out a load bearing wall, and the weight of the whole structure was shifting because of it.

The old man knew at any second these guys could take out another wall, and the whole building would collapse on top of him. He knew of course he would survive it, but having every bone in his body crushed and internal organs made into paste and being stuck that way didn't really appeal to him. Frank looked to where he had stockpiled the dead squad's grenades, took aim, and fired an explosive round into them; there was a deafening roar, smoke and fire climbed high toward the roof, and a hole was opened in the floor. Jackson ran for it in a hunched over sprint, and dove inside just as vehicle 3 opened up with its dragons. Seconds after the war hero entered the basement, the entire structure collapsed above him.
The remaining troops looked over their handy work, and scanned the wreckage on all levels available.

"Area sterilized, no sign of enemy presence. Mission objective achieved."

Immediately after this communication was sent, a blast obliterated vehicle three; a tank was rolling down the street toward where the church used to be, and it was not alone. The Illinois National Guard Armored Division had arrived, and the fight was on...

Non Canon Battle Post

The trio opened up with a salvo of three rockets. Two shot strait at the building, one through the main entrance like a very rude parishioner and another through a window. The third exploded a few feet from the Lemmings' APC and rocked the transport violently. The two rockets that detonated inside sent Frank flying back through a set of pews and landed him in a pile of rubble and wooden shards. He grunted as he noted a piece of wood impaling his thigh and jerked it out of the flesh that almost instantly knitted itself.

Outside, Crimson grit her teeth as two of the APCs entered battle maneuvers while the third radio'd about technical difficulties. "Squad Lemmings, disembark and co..." And just as she spoke, Commander's dossier came over the wire and she grit her teeth. Military history had been part of Schwartze Augen officer training and Frank Jackson was known to her. This would be no easy fight with the resources at her disposal. She pulled up the cameras that Gates had put up and grunted as she cycled through spectrums until she had a location on the target and transferred it to her underlings' helmets. The Redcap tending her was not amused by her antics so she ordered him to shut it and wait. "Target is Threat Value Nova. Extreme caution."

The members of Squad Lemmings approached the church door via cover even as the other two APCs circled the building. The second black vehicle unleashed a pair of rockets into the side of the building that sent chunks of concrete, glass, and wood flying through the church like something out of Dorothy's worst nightmare. The wall began a slow motion collapse even as the members of Lemmings burst in. Two went left; two went right; Frank opened up and the two on the right went down. One have a bullet through his right thigh, the other had a hole in his head. "Ma'am, Lemmings has made contact, 25% casualties, one member reduce capacity. Orders?" Crimson smiled as she pulled up the tactical map of the church, updating in real time thanks to Gates and looked it over. The target was a consummate soldier, but a poor tactician. She gave a set of orders; the remaining Lemmings would need to buy 1 minute's time.

Inside the church, the two who had broken left took cover behind statues and swept the church with eco-locators, noting the presence of the target behind the altar. The injured Ghould was down behind the last row of intact pews about half way up the church floor. He was also the one with the LMG. A series of subvocal orders went off and the man grit his teeth as he stood and opened up on the Altar with the weapon in short, controlled bursts. Even as he did, the other two made a break for the next piece of good cover.

Frank was pretty safe behind the solid altar piece but that wouldn't stay that way for long. His long combat experience made him acutely aware that his opponents were also experienced soldiers as well as that they had a plan. What, he could not know, but he needed to ruin it for them. As it was, the church was looking more and more like swiss cheese due to the fights. Another rocket opened up another hole in the one remaining intact wall. He swung up between bursts and drew down on the LMG wielding trooper. Even as he squeezed the trigger, two rounds of ammo ripped through his left shoulder; in return for his shoulder's sacrifice, the trooper sprouted a sudden case of exploded chest cavity. Frank looked over at his destroyed shoulder: not severed, already regenerating. He was winning the war of attrition so far. He ducked back down as smart M4 fire ricocheted off the altar. Two more targets in the church, and, judging by the numbers, 8 more targets outside. There was nothing for it but to grin and bear it.

Frank stood and made a slow walk to where he knew the two men were hidden; they responded by opening fire. They were good shots, but Frank healed almost as fast as they fired and he closed the distance at an angle that reduced their cover. He pulled the trigger and an explosive round detonated in the wooden facade one was hiding in sending splinters into his helmet. Trigger: the second target's left arm went limp. Both men recovered: one let his rifle drop and pulled a sidearm that Frank recognized from his own long military service as a Colt 1911. The two continued to fire and move to keep cover between them and the nigh-invicible opponent. Credit due: the did not break but remained icy calm as they stepped around the corpses of their fallen Bananas brethren. Frank grinned and sent a round into the pile of looted munitions and watched it explode, sending the two Ghouls flying. They each landed in a heap. Shattered shoulder groaned but the other lay still.

"Ma'am, Lemmings at 75% casualties. Suicide protocols active. We do have a confirmed healing rate on Mr. Jackson. Last member critical, but target is in sight." Vivianne pursed her lips and nodded then hissed at another jarring pain in her leg. "Go."

Frank walked over and looked down at the soldier as the man tried to reach for his sidearm in vain. He drew a bead on the kid and sighed, "Sorry kid, ya picked the wrong side to soldier for. Nothing meant by this." Suddenly, his vision disappeared; the world went black. He reflexively pulled the trigger twice and heard meaty sounds in response as his free hand went to the ruins of his face. His body shook violently as two more rounds from the pair of M24 Sniper Systems rocket him again. He swung around as a fifth rough shattered his wrist and he dropped the pistol. A sixth round impacted his chest. His eyes were just starting to reform as he made out another team of four soldiers entering the church. His body convulsed in nigh epileptic seizures as they opened up on him with their M4s. The damage quickly outpaced even his healing factors and then something burned as a white fog surrounded his frame. Frank finally succumbed and slumped, immobile for now, to the floor as his body shut down to let his healing factor go into full bore. Except the Ghouls never operated in half measure. Squad Annie Lennox's specialist trained his LAW on the temporary-corpse and detonated it with extreme prejudice. The leader of the squad quickly advanced, grabbed the shattered remains of a few key bits, then bumped them in a bag.

"Ma'am, Squad Lemmings at 100% cas..." She was down one APC and four soldiers, but she had neutralized a threat. They needed to move and move now. "Ma'am, inbound National Guard forces. Recommen..." Again, Vivianne cut the woman off, "Recover assets and a few bits of Mr. Jackson, update the Namidian files on him, and lets roll." The Ghouls troppers evac'd hastily, the two Banshees descended and mounted the crimsonAPC, and they abandoned the immobilized APC. It was trapped of course and the first squad of guardsmen within fifty feet of it caused it to detonate. Suicide Protocols were absolute.

NON-CANNON BATTLE POST

Maire waited atop the rooftop patiently as she heard the helicopters blades echo from all around her, explosions had rocked the building just as she'd reached the roof and even without following the noise of the pilots blaring list of demands she knew exactly where they were. The vehicle left a vile black stain on the pattern of whatever it touched, and the mindlessly destructive minds of the ZeroComets paired with the traumatised thoughts of their hostages made Bard and her altered senses wince with disgust. Years worth of damage had been caused today, and Bard didn't relish the work she'd have to put in to return Chicago's pattern to even a semblance of normality, but the men and women inside the vehicle threatened her work with their mere existence and she resolved to end them swiftly.

The helicopter touched down of the rooftop garden with a heavy nudge of it's landing gear. It's rear ramp was flung open and the loud man who'd put a bullet into Bard's leg disembarked with two other men, a fourth soldier and the pilot stayed aboard the helicopter to keep their prisoners in line. She reached out with her ability to test her prey: They were excitable, violent and conflicted- between their malleability and their destructive influence she could hardly imagine an easier set of targets.

"Th' plans simpl', lads." Smokes said, to the two men following shortly behind him. He walked with forceful aggressive steps that made it obvious he was getting pumped with excitement.
"One floor at'a time. Shoot anythin' with ah' gun, a'fore it shoots us!" The men behind him cheered their approval of Smokes 'plan', one punched Smokes in the back of the shoulder in an amicable shove. From her hiding spot Bard hummed a light note of discord, by the standards of what she could do the note was barley a nudge, but she was sure it'd be enough. She wouldn't have to disturb the grand pattern much more than she already had to win this battle.
Smokes turned around furiously, as the note of discord made him take the friendly gesture in the worst possible way.
"TH' SHIT WAS THA' F'R?!"
The squadmate he rounded on recoiled, before his own heightened aggression made him literally butt-heads with his leader and shout him down. "WHAT?! GOT A PROBLEM 'BOSS'?!"
"GUYS!" The third member of the squad cut in. "Guys. Save it for the enemy, yeah?" Bards subtle push hadn't had an immediate effect on the third member of the party, but that quickly became irrelevant when Smokes turned around to deck him to the ground with a savage and unprovoked hook punch.

If Maire had had a normal capacity for humour she might have laughed as the three men stopped in their tracks and began to infight, but she didn't. As she hummed she touched her time bracelet and interwove the slight resonations that it pulsed with into her song, her perception of time stretched forward by a few seconds and she could see that the men would keep escalating their fight- and with her continued intervention a gun would be drawn, and the argument brought to a sudden climax. Once the men were dead she'd easily be able to kill any survivors, and to amplify the fear infesting their parked transport to turn the Hostages against their far outnumbered captors.
Something subtle shifted in the pattern of the building below her, then shifted again. She diverted some of her attention away from the spectacle the ZeroComets were making of themselves and tried to pick out what had changed. The pattern shifted again, and she realized what was happening: Links in the chain she'd setup between the buildings security force were being taken out, their share energy was being dissipated and surgically cut out as a group of intruders that barley registered on her senses cut a path through the chaotic building and directly to the room where she knew the mayor was being held. She truly didn't give a damn about protecting the politician, but the Namidians attempts to capture him was the source of the disruption that'd drawn her here- and that was reason enough for her to act.
She let her voice raise above it's subvocal level to leave the rooftop Villan's a parting gift, before she'd dash from her hiding place and push her way through the rooftop exit to make her way downstairs. With a shrill whistle that went unnoticed among the wrestling trio she quadrupled their aggression and inspired the frightened hostages inside their transport to fight for their freedom.
Just as the rooftop door clicked shut behind her she heard the results of her actions:
"Fuck YOU! You incomprehensible prick!"
"I'LL FU'KEN DECK Y'H, MATE!"
"TRY IT! JUST MAKE A MOVE!!"
*BLAMN!*
*BLAMN!*
*BLAMN!*

---

As Bard rushed to the Mayors office she could see the trail of destruction that the unaccounted for intruders had caused, if 'destruction' could be considered the right word. Every guard she'd come across so far had been rendered unconscious before they'd even known what'd hit them, and had what appeared to be burn scars on their faces and necks. The links of her chain were still being extinguished and their path told her they were only moments away from the Mayors office. Even whilst looking for her targets using her empowered senses she had difficulty discerning the intruders patterns against the background chaos that the building had been plunged into: it was almost as though they were sharks, moving unseen under the surface of the pattern before surfacing violently to take action, only to calm and sink under the surface once more without leaving so much as a ripple in their wake.

Without anyone conscious to stop her she pushed her way easily into the Mayors office, the men by the door were slumped over where they'd stood but on pushing her way inside the only person in sight was the Mayor himself who'd taken cover behind his secretary's desk, and was radiating palpable fear that pulsed throughout the entire room and further masked her senses. The desk that he was hiding behind had another sedated guard slumped over it.
She strode up and grabbed the politician by his collar, she wasn't prone to bursts of emotion but it'd been a long day, so she decided to speak frankly:
"Who did this, and where are they?!"
The terrified Mayor only raised his shaking hand in response and pointed behind her, as she turned she saw what she'd missed on her way in: A woman had been standing by the door, her armour was the same beige hue as the rest of the room and she'd stood statue still as Bard made her entrance which made her easy to overlook, but as she charged at Bard with a raised fist the simple camouflage was broken and she became easily visible.
The infiltrator dived out in a quick lunge and attempted to grasp Bard with an outstretched hand, electric sparks fizzed from her gloved fingertips and Maire heard them crackle as she blocked the attack with a forearm Hwa-Rang-Do block, which she followed up with a twist that opened her opponents guard and sent a well practised punch into the modern ninjas featureless helmet that marked its surface with a fractured split.
Bard began humming, she was no slouch in hand-to-hand combat but neither was her opponent, and neither participant was of a mind to engage in a a fair fight. Her powers reached out but didn't find much purchase to use on the person, a tiny smear of pride, some anger perhaps, but nothing as easily workable as the soldiers upstairs had displayed.

A second Infiltrator detached itself from a spot on the walls, and a third burst through the ceiling tiles above her- again, the singularly flavourless aura they exuded almost nullified them against her pattern sense, as she felt the pressure of attacks begin to press at what her normal martial gifts could cope with she fell back again on the use of her 'Time Bracelet', and Maire integrated it's melody into the song coming from her throat and fists she began to regain control over the fight- from three directions fists and feet tried to subdue her but her form and gifted advantages allowed her to keep them at bay, as she began to relax into the rhythm of the fight she began to integrate notes from her Confusion Collar into her song and immediately she felt herself regaining the advantage. Their own attacks slowed and her fist shattered the visor of another foe, with two of her opponents visually impaired she began to gain ground on them as her fists drove each of them back and her senses continued to search out a finger hold for her music to affect them.
"Mission accomplished. Return." another figure called from the door, before it darted out of sight.
Her three opponents suddenly backed off, they each threw her a final attack that stumbled her offensive long enough for them to make their escape. One darted out the door behind her companion, another handsprang off the Mayors desk and into the dark obscurity of the ceiling tiles where he'd burst from and the final Infiltrator dived into a side room where Bard found nothing but a thrown-open window to show their escape route. Feeling a sense of irritation and confusion of her own she returned to the room to face down the Mayor, what had the last one meant by 'Mission accomplished'?

Something was missing... The fear! and the Mayor it belonged to! Whilst she'd had her whole attention diverted by the fistfight another Infiltrator must have stole her objective out from under her! She stamped down hard on her own sense of frustration and cast her senses out again. She could feel the beacon of the Mayors fear carve a line through the Grand Pattern as he was shepherded through the rooftop gardens and back to the blindingly distorted chaos of the ZeroComet gunship, and she felt that if she moved now she might just be able to intercept them before their escape!

---

As Maire pushed her way back through the rooftop door she could see the wheels of the Helicopter nudge off the buildings rooftop. She'd run past the corpse of the Zero comet leader 'Smokes' as well as his two underlings, who'd shot each other with heatedly drawn pistols. Four civilian corpses were also hastily piled up at the mouth of the Gunships boarding ramp, Bards attempt to incite rebellion had taken effect but had fallen just short of actual success.
Bard could feel the helicopters influence on the grand pattern like a cigarette burn on fabric. So much fear, anger, psychopathy and even the cold-emotionless imprints left by the five Infiltrators piled inside such a small area left her with an absolute certainty that she'd have to kill the entire group to maintain her twisted version of order- and she was about to begin singing a chorus that'd reduce her enemy to scrap iron and flaming debris... but the voice that shouted out from the Helicopters speakers stopped her short.

"If you attempt to destroy this vehicle I will destroy the building you stand on." -Commanders Voice rung out from the Helicopters PA system as it hovered there, almost in challenge.

"I can deliver a bunker-buster to your position in less than a moment. Weigh the lives of the civilians trapped in the building against the ones you have in your sight, Hero, and you'll see that you have no choice but to back down."

Bard wasn't amused by that. She didn't consider herself a hero, and neither would any of the victims she'd murdered over the years for even the smallest infraction. Whoever was talking over the system obviously had no idea who she was, or the lengths that she'd go to maintain her own particular brand of order.
-But-
She had to admit the voice had a point. She wanted the Namidians hovering infront of her wiped out of the equation dearly, more than she'd wanted to murder anything in a good while, in fact, and that was saying something. However the damage that the destruction of the entire building would have on the Pattern of Chicago would be irreversible, whereas the damage that'd been inflicted so far was merely crippling. To her, it really was no choice.

She clenched her fists, grit her teeth, and pointed threateningly to the helicopter. "If I see any of you again, you are dead. That is a fact. Begone." Determined to get the last word in she spun on her heel and strode away back into the building.
The Helicopter spun on it's own axis and sped away, with it's precious but dearly-bought cargo.

---

Commander ran a hand along his face to clear it of perspiration and shakily released his grip from Megalodon's firing controls. He really, really, hadn't wanted Bard to call his bluff- but after the death of one of his lieutenants he wouldn't have had any choice. He would have destroyed the building if it'd come to it, and he would have suffered for the action.
He stopped his hand from shaking with a force of will and jabbed it onto the Broadwave transmitter that sent out a message across the Namidian wavelengths.

***"Mayor is in custody. ZeroComet's are falling back to stow our assets, Numbered Brethren Injured but active. Rough Riders still active. I have satisfied my role in this engagement, if any final objectives have yet to be achieved make them known."***
This message was last edited by the player at 10:42, Fri 26 June 2015.

Non-Cannon Battle Post

Maire's song was breaching discord at this point, several layers in conflict with each other as she spread her control thinly across the entire rooftop, grasping at every nook and cranny in the pattern that she could hold onto. Her attention fractured, and her frenzied song suffered a brief cacophany that would have destroyed the hearing of any normal standing too close to her, but she succesfully re-attained control of it. She stood safely within the shadows just inside the rooftop access, staring balefully at the approaching ZeroComets. Anger and happiness were becoming dangerously close to rebelling out of her control, and she was reminded why she never dealt with opposing emotions very often, on so many people at once. One emotion over an entire crowd was easy, maintaining several among different pockets in the crowd? The hostages inside the Copter were being infused with hope, and those approaching the door being infused with paranoia. Those left in the copter infused with anger at being left behind, and a great deal of... contentment. At least they'd been left with the easy job, watching over a bunch of terrified hostages. All they had to do was look at 'em and they'd curl up into a ball.

Smokes had some of the others in those he'd taken with him walk through the door, just to make sure they weren't gunned down immediately, but still stopped and stood still for a moment at the doorway, listening for anything. There were hints of something, far down the stairwell, but he wasn't concerned at this moment. He stepped in, and after the last one stepped in and started down the steps, his gun raised and a nervous grin on his face, the door slammed shut with a bang that was echoed with a gunshot from the startled men at the front of the chain. Smokes yelled loudly. "Fingers off th' damned triggers, you idiots!" There was faint mumbling, but they went on their way quickly, hitting the first floor down and barging through to... emptiness. And silence.

Maire hid just around the corner, her song becoming more hectic yet. Now there were those still on this floor to control, and the patterns she'd tied over the windows on this floor to block out sound. It was getting past even her fine control, and she was starting to revert to more brutal methods of control. Her foot tapped, her fingers were snapping, and her hands were clapping, and even her pace as she slipped farther down the hallway was measured, from the click when her heel hit the floor to the squeak as her sneaker slid along the tiles.

Smokes grunted. "Start checking all th' rooms!" He shouted, and banged into one himself, a few others following after him and a few others heading into others along the hallway. All of them were empty, and after they reconvened and searched several more, even travelling to the next floor, their disturbance and desire for something to shoot at to relieve that incessant pressure began increasing exponentially. They started snapping at each other, even Smokes, and a fight broke out that was finished quickly with a loud gunshot. Smokes and two others stood over one of their comrades grinning maniacally, and they all whooped. That death had felt so good to them. Better than the most delicious chocolate they'd ever eaten. But the pressure mounted quickly again and their hunger rose. Just as the second gunshot went off, Maire felt a pressure on the weaves she'd left farther down in the building. One of the guards outside the mayors office had just died. She hadn't even noticed anything. Her head jerked to the side and she whistled, loud and shrill. It bounced down through the patterns in the building, hitting civilians and guards alike until it dimly bounced off of someone that hadn't been in the building before. Her whistle shouldn't have bounced dimly at all. If it hadn't been for just the slightest twinge of a pattern in response to it, she wouldn't have ever even detected it.

Another shrill whistle, punctuated by two more gunshots and a dull thud that sounded like a muted explosion, and Maire was slipping down the stairs faster than any normal. Whoever was down here was clean. The guards she'd enhanced were enhanced, but sloppy. Too sloppy, and someone had slid right through them and were likely already in the Mayors office. Or more than one? Her whistles weren't effective enough. She sent out a few more as she approached the office, more dull reflections coming back at her, but they were confusing. Too erratic. She couldn't tell if it was one or ten, even as she stepped right up to the doorway. With a quick subvocal hum, her time sense filed in, and she stepped into the room. It was empty of everyone, including the mayor, but someone was still here. No, there, behind that door. She stepped over and threw it open, and stared in confusion at the empty broom closet before a faint pressure from her time-sense hit her in her neck, and she flipped, her arm reaching out and gripping the arm of a man. It took her the barest flex to break it, but his silence was disturbing. Her other arm came around and slammed into his visor, knocking his head back and cracking it. The hand on his broken arm dropped something thin and silvery, a needle, and she let go of his arm and grabbed it, spinning it and shoving it into what she felt was a weaker thread at the elbow crease.

A woman fell out of the ceiling and Maire barely shoved the man away and pulled herself out of the way in time to avoid it, but she dropped the needle in the process. Brethren One was skilled enough that even with enhanced powers, Maire actually had to employ tricks she hadn't used in years. Another man appeared, this one wearing a fancy suit and a bandanna wrapped around his face and goggles over his eyes. He didn't join the fight, but grabbed the man lying on the floor and dragged him unceremoniously away. Maire frowned, but caught on quickly. The man hadn't even tried to fight back, he'd just tried to stab her with the needle. They'd hidden the mayor in one of their own suits. And she'd just broken his arm. Likely with pearmenant damage inflicted. This was not turning out how she wanted.

The woman only fought for a few more moments before pulling back. Maire pursued, but yet another man stood at the door, with another uniform similar to the others, and holding a silenced pistol. He shot, and Maire dove behind the desk. The woman retreated, and the door slammed shut, a lock clicking into place. She frowned and stood, standing in a ready position and humming a sonorous note before dashing at the door, slamming through the wood like a block of concrete through a thin window. The hall was empty, but she whistled, catching the faint reflection of the now unconscious mayor, and a few of the others. But they were spreading out, and she could feel them two floors below her and two floors above. The Mayor was with the group above, so she headed for the stairwell and clambered up the flights quickly, interspersing whistles into the climb.

When she finally burst out of the rooftop access, the helicopter was already lifted off and hovering there, facing towards her door. She saw a rocket detach itself, and her eyes widened. She stepped back inside and flipped over the railing, falling a flight of stairs and bouncing to her feet, jumping again and landing badly, but uninjured. She covered her head, and... nothing happened. She stood, and cautiously moved up the stairs, opening the rooftop door and glancing out. The Helicopter was gone, and the missile lay on the rooftop, unexploded. But she wasn't an idiot, and instead of investigating, accepted the loss and turned, slipping back down and out of the building and disappearing into the streets.

The Numbered Brethren reported in ahead of schedule. "We've got the mayor." Was all they said.

Canon Battle Post

The trio opened up with a salvo of three rockets. Two shot straight at the building, one through the main entrance like a very rude parishioner and another through a window. The third exploded a few feet from the Lemmings' APC and rocked the transport violently. The two rockets that detonated inside sent Frank flying back through a set of pews and landed him in a pile of rubble and wooden shards. He grunted as he noted a piece of wood impaling his thigh and jerked it out of the flesh that almost instantly knitted itself.

Outside, Crimson grit her teeth as two of the APCs entered battle maneuvers while the third radioed about technical difficulties.

"Squad Lemmings, disembark and co..." And just as Lady Crimson spoke, Commander's dossier came over the wire and she grit her teeth. Military history had been part of Schwartze Augen officer training and Frank Jackson was known to her. This would be no easy fight with the resources at her disposal. She pulled up the cameras that Gates had put up and grunted as she cycled through spectrums until she had a location on the target and transferred it to her underlings' helmets. The Redcap tending her was not amused by her antics so she ordered him to shut it and wait. "Target is Threat Value Nova. Extreme caution."

The members of Squad Lemmings approached the church door via cover even as the other two APCs circled the building. The second black vehicle unleashed a pair of rockets into the side of the building that sent chunks of concrete, glass, and wood flying through the church like something out of Dorothy's worst nightmare. The wall began a slow motion collapse even as the members of Lemmings burst in. Two went left; two went right. Frank opened fire and the two on the right went down. One got a bullet through his right thigh, the other got a hole in his head.

"Ma'am, Lemmings has made contact, 25% casualties, one member reduce capacity. Orders?" Crimson smiled as she pulled up the tactical map of the church, which was updating in real time thanks to Gates, and scanned it with brutal efficiency. The target was a consummate soldier, but a poor tactician. She gave a set of orders; the remaining Lemmings would need to buy one minute's time.

Inside the church, the two who had broken left took cover behind statues and swept the church with eco-locators, noting the presence of the target behind the altar. The injured Ghoul was down behind the last row of intact pews about half way up the church floor. He was also the one with the LMG. A series of subvocal orders went off and the man gritted his teeth, stood up, and sprayed the altar with the weapon in short, controlled bursts. Even as he did, the other two made a break for the next piece of good cover.

Frank was pretty safe behind the solid altar piece but wouldn't stay that way for long. His impossibly vast combat experience made him acutely aware that his opponents were also experienced soldiers as well. They moved like soldiers, they aimed like experts, and they didn't crack when the first skull did. What they were planning, he could not know, but he needed to ruin it for them. As it was, the church was looking more and more like Swiss cheese due to the fights. Another rocket opened up another hole in the last intact wall. He swung up between bursts and drew a bead on the LMG wielding trooper. Even as he squeezed the trigger, two rounds of ammo ripped through his left shoulder; in return for his shoulder's sacrifice, the trooper suffered a sudden case of exploded chest cavity. Frank looked over at his destroyed shoulder: not severed, already regenerating. He was winning the war of attrition so far. He ducked back down as smart M4 fire ricocheted off the altar. Two more targets in the church, and, judging by the numbers, 8 more targets outside. There was nothing to do but grin and bear it.

Frank stood and made a slow walk to where he knew the two men were hidden; they responded by splitting his chest and shoulders open. They were good shots, but Frank healed almost as fast as they fired and he closed the distance at an angle that reduced their cover. He pulled the trigger and an explosive round detonated in the wooden facade one was hiding in, sending splinters into his helmet. Second pull of the trigger: the second target's left arm went limp. Both men recovered, one let his rifle drop and pulled a sidearm that Frank recognized from his own long military service as a Colt 1911. The two continued to fire and move to keep cover between them and the nigh-invicible opponent. Credit due: they remained icy calm as they stepped around the corpses of their fallen Bananas brethren. Frank grinned as he spotted an opportunity and sent a round into the pile of looted munitions. He watched it explode, sending the two Ghouls flying. They each landed in a heap. The one with the shattered arm groaned, but the other lay still.

"Ma'am, Lemmings at 75% casualties. Suicide protocols active. We do have a confirmed healing rate on Mr. Jackson. Last member critical, but target is in sight." Vivianne pursed her lips and nodded, then hissed at another jarring pain in her leg.

"Go."

Frank walked over and looked down at the soldier as the man tried to reach for his sidearm in vain. He took aim at the kid and sighed, "Sorry kid, ya picked the wrong side to soldier for. Nothing meant by this."

Suddenly, his vision disappeared; the world went black. He reflexively pulled the trigger twice and heard meaty sounds in response as his free hand went to the ruins of his face. His body shook violently as two more rounds from the pair of M24 Sniper Systems rocked him again. He swung around as a fifth rough shattered his wrist and he dropped the pistol. A sixth round impacted his chest. His eyes were just starting to reform as he made out another team of four soldiers entering the church. His body convulsed in nigh epileptic seizures as they opened up on him with their M4s. The damage quickly outpaced even his healing factors and then something burned as a white fog surrounded his frame.

Frank almost succumbed to the pressure, but his warrior instincts took over as pieces of his brain burst and reformed over and over again. He dashed through one of the soldiers, swung his arm around the man's throat, and wielded him like a shield. He screamed in agony as the flesh on his choking arm was shredded apart by gunfire, but he would not let go. He used his human shield to block whichever direction the greatest pain was coming from, and emptied his clip into the newly arrived troopers' helmets. One by one by one, three of the four fell to the ground. Pools of blood leaked from the dead's helmets, and the whole scene desecrated the peace and serenity of the Cathedral.


"Ma'am, Squad Lemmings at 100% casualties, Squad Annie Lennox at 75%..." She was down one APC and six soldiers, and the tough bastard was still standing, mocking her. But he was still a grunt, while she was an officer.

"Keep moving, trooper. Dodge between cover and do not take aim at him. He'll expose himself. They always do."

As snipers tore chunks out of Frank Jackson briefly exposed shoulders and head, the ITSDA badass' stream of bullets trailed behind the one remaining Ghoul. The Ghoul dashed from the pews, to behind the columns, to under the very altar he hid behind, and never even attempted to fight. He was either a coward, or (more likely), a distraction. He laid down some covering fire to keep his target in place and his rifle clicked. Cunningly, he pulled out his shield's sidearm. That was a big mistake. The sidearm exploded with the force of a rocket, sending shrapnel flowing through his organs and pulling his body apart.

It was then that he dropped his shield, and then that the snipers put hole after hole in his head. He got up three times, each time a little slower. After the third time, he stayed down and began to crawl backward out the door. A fresh ear piercing wracked his body with pain and kept him still for two seconds. That was all the time the Lennox APC's miniguns needed to cleave him into pieces like a giant knife. Eviscerated and in literal pieces, the one remaining soldier opened a bag and began to pile the undying soldier's major bits into it.

Lady Crimson hated this man for putting a dent in her army, but her hatred meant nothing. Unlike the others, she could put her personal feelings aside. She finally neutralized the threat, and they needed to move and move now.

b>"Ma'am, inbound National Guard forces. Recommen..."</b> Vivianne cut the woman off.

"Recover assets and all you can of Mr. Jackson, update the files on him, and lets roll." The Ghoul trooper evacuated hastily, the two Banshees descended and mounted the crimson APC, and they abandoned the others. It was trapped of course and the first squad of guardsmen within fifty feet of it caused it to detonate. Suicide Protocols were absolute.

Inside the crimson APC, a Banshee noticed an unusual lump in the bag full of Jackson's remains. He couldn't tell whether or not it was there before, but he wasn't about to take the risk.

"Lady Crimson, possible signs of life. What are your orders?"

Maire's song was breaching discord at this point, several layers in conflict with each other as she spread her control thinly across the entire rooftop, grasping at every nook and cranny in the pattern that she could hold onto. Her attention fractured, and her frenzied song suffered a brief cacophony that would have destroyed the hearing of any normal standing too close to her, but she successfully reattained control of it. She stood safely within the shadows just inside the rooftop access, staring balefully at the approaching ZeroComets. Their anger and happiness were becoming dangerously close to rebelling out of her control, and she was reminded why she never dealt with opposing emotions very often, on so many people at once. One emotion over an entire crowd was easy, maintaining several among different pockets in the crowd? The hostages inside the Copter were being infused with a miniscule amount of hope and holding on to it for dear life, those approaching the door were injected with paranoia. Those left in the copter were filled with anger at being left behind, and a great deal of... contentment. At least they'd been left with the easy job, watching over a bunch of terrified hostages. All they had to do was look at 'em and they'd curl up into a ball.


"Th' plans simpl', lads." Smokes said from where just within Bard's hearing range. He and the two men following behind him walked with forceful, aggressive steps that made it obvious they were pumped up."One floor at'a time. Shoot anythin' with ah' gun, a'fore it shoots us!"

The men behind him cheered their approval of Smoke's "plan," one punched Smokes in the back of the shoulder in an amicable, nonverbal "yeah!" From her hiding spot, Bard hummed a light note of discord; by the standards of what she could do the note was barely a nudge, but she was sure it'd be enough. She wouldn't have to disturb the grand pattern much more than she already had to win this battle.

Smokes turned around furiously, as the note of discord made him take the friendly gesture in the worst possible way.

"TH' SHIT WAS THA' F'R?!" The squadmate he turned on recoiled, before his own heightened aggression made him literally butt-heads with his leader and shout him down.

"WHAT?! GOT A PROBLEM "BOSS"?!"

"GUYS!" The third member of the squad cut in. "Guys. Save it for the enemy, yeah?" Bard's subtle push hadn't had an immediate effect on the third member of the party, but that quickly became irrelevant when Smokes turned around to deck him to the ground with a savage and unprovoked hook punch.

If Maire had had a normal capacity for humor, she might have laughed as the three "professionals" stopped in their tracks and began to struggle amongst themselves, but she didn't. As she hummed, she touched her time bracelet and interwove the slight resonations that it pulsed with into her song; her perception of time stretched forward by a few seconds and she could see that the men would keep escalating their fight. Even better, with her continued intervention a gun would be drawn, and the argument brought to a sudden climax. Once the men were dead, she'd easily be able to kill any survivors and amplify the fear infesting the Comets' parked transport to turn the hostages against their cowering, outnumbered captors.

Something subtle shifted in the pattern of the building below her, then shifted again. She diverted some of her attention away from the spectacle the ZeroComets were making of themselves and tried to pick out what had changed. The pattern shifted again, and she realized what was happening: the links in the rhythmic chain she'd setup between the buildings security force were being taken out. The heartbeats and breaths that made up the chain's beats were being surgically eliminated one by one as a group of intruders that barely registered on her senses cut a path through the chaotic building and directly to the room where she knew the mayor was being held. She truly didn't give a damn about protecting the politician, but the Namidians' attempts to capture him was the source of the disruption that had drawn her here. That was reason enough for her to act.

She let her voice raise above it's subvocal level to leave the rooftop villains a parting gift before she dashed downstairs. With a shrill whistle that went unnoticed by the wrestling trio, she quadrupled their aggression and inspired the frightened, but hopeful hostages inside their transport to fight for their freedom.

Just as the rooftop door clicked shut behind her, she heard the results of her actions:

"Fuck YOU! You incomprehensible prick!"

"I'LL FU'KEN DECK Y'H, MATE!"

"TRY IT! JUST MAKE A MOVE!!"

*BLAMN!*

*BLAMN!*

*BLAMN!*

Maire sang a note of curiosity and frustration as she slipped down the stairs faster than any normal. It's sound, it's presence in the pattern, was being twisted and routed around something as it got closer and closer to the mayor's office. Whoever was down here was clean. Her note wasn't effective enough. She sang a higher, nervier tune as she approached the office, but only got dull reverberations for her troubles. She couldn't tell if the soldiers numbered one or ten, even as she stepped right up to the doorway.

With a quick hum, her time braclet was again incorporated into her song, and she stepped into the room. It was empty of seemingly everyone, including the mayor, but she knew someone was still here. No, there, behind that door! She stepped over and threw it open, and stared in confusion at the empty broom closet before a faint pressure from her time-sensed nearly collapsed her windpipe. She flipped backward, reached her arm out and gripped the arm of a nigh-invisible man. It took her the barest flex to break it, but his silence was disturbing. Her other arm swung around and slammed into his visor, knocking his head back and cracking it. The hand on his broken arm dropped something thin and silvery, a needle. She let go of his arm and snatched it out of the air. In one fluid, dance-like motion, she spun and shoved it into what she felt was a weak spot at the crease of his uniform's elbow.

Suddenly, a woman wearing the same outfit dived out in a quick lunge and attempted to grasp Bard with an outstretched hand. Electric sparks fizzed from her gloved fingertips and Maire heard them crackle as she blocked the attack with her forearm. Bard followed up with a twist that opened her opponents guard and then sent a well practiced punch into the modern ninja's featureless helmet. The punch was hard enough to split the helmet's along the middle, but not hard enough to take her down.

Bard began humming, she was no slouch in hand-to-hand combat but neither was her opponent, and neither participant was of a mind to engage in a a fair fight. Her powers reached out but didn't find much purchase to use on the person, a tiny smear of pride, some anger perhaps, but nothing as easily workable as the soldiers upstairs had displayed.

A third infiltrator detached himself from a spot on the walls, and a fourth burst through the ceiling tiles above her. Again, the singularly flavorless aura they exuded made them almost impossible to sense! How many more were there? She felt the pressure of attacks begin to press at what her martial gifts could cope with she and she fell back again on the use of her "Time Bracelet." The rapid beat-beat-beat of the Time Braclet's tune grew louder and even more rapid, and Maire's fists and kicks flew everywhere. From three directions fists and feet tried to subdue her, but her form and apparently inhuman reflexes allowed her to keep them at bay. As she began to relax into the rhythm of the fight, she integrated notes from her Confusion Collar into her already complex song and immediately gained the advantage. The ghostly soldiers' attacks missed her constantly as they struggled to keep their eyes locked on to her. Her fist shattered the visor of another foe, and that soldier stumbled out of her reach and toward the downed man.

The last unharmed soldier dashed toward her. A perfectly executed flying knee threw him halfway across the room, but he caught himself with a handspring before he hit the ground. Maire anticipated the roundhouse kick he attempted, grabbed his leg, and swept his left leg out from underneath him. The trooper immediately rolled out of the way, jumped up, and elbowed her before she could dodge it. Maire staggered back and prepared to parry his next blow, but something in her peripheral vision caught her suspicion. One of the infiltrators was carrying his or her unconscious comrade away. Maire frowned, but caught on quickly. They wouldn't focus on the wounded! They'd hidden the mayor in one of their own suits. And she'd just broken his arm. Likely with permanent damage inflicted. This was not turning out how she wanted.

"Mission accomplished, return immediately!" said the female infiltrator, who stood just past the door. She drew her pistol and fired, forcing Bard to dive behind a desk. With that, the remaining pair beat a hasty retreat and locked the door behind them. The very moment the lock clicked shut, Bard belted out powerful, righteous rage and rammed her way through the door.

As Maire pushed her way back through the rooftop door, she could see the wheels of the Helicopter nudge off the building's rooftop. She'd run past the corpse of the ZeroComet leader "Smokes" as well as his two underlings, who'd shot each other with heatedly drawn pistols. Four civilian corpses were also hastily piled up at the mouth of the Gunships boarding ramp; her attempt to incite rebellion had taken effect, but it had fallen just short of actual success.

Bard could feel the helicopters influence on the grand pattern like a cigarette burn on fabric. So much fear, anger, psychopathy and even the cold, emotionless imprints left by the five infiltrators piled inside such a small area left her with an absolute certainty that she'd have to kill the entire group to maintain her twisted version of order. She was about to begin singing a chorus that'd reduce her enemy to scrap iron and flaming debris... but the voice that shouted out from the helicopters speakers stopped her short.

"If you attempt to destroy this vehicle I will destroy the building you stand on." The Commander's voice rung out from the helicopter's PA system as it hovered there, almost in challenge.

"I can deliver a bunker-buster to your position in less than a moment. Weigh the lives of the civilians trapped in the building against the ones you have in your sight, hero, and you'll see that you have no choice but to back down."

Bard wasn't amused by that. She didn't consider herself a hero, and neither would any of the victims she'd murdered over the years for even the smallest infraction. Whoever was talking over the system obviously had no idea who she was, or the lengths that she'd go to maintain her own particular brand of order.

-But-

She had to admit the voice had a point. She wanted the Namidians hovering in front of her wiped out of the equation dearly, more than she'd wanted to murder anything in a good while, in fact. And that was saying something! However, the damage that the destruction of the entire building would have on the Pattern of Chicago would be irreversible, whereas the damage that'd been inflicted so far was merely crippling. To her, there really was no choice.

She clenched her fists, grit her teeth, and pointed threateningly to the helicopter.

"If I see any of you again, you are dead. That is a fact. Begone." Determined to get the last word in, she spun on her heel and strode away back into the building.

The helicopter spun on it's own axis and sped away, with it's precious but dearly bought cargo. The Commander considered King Pyrrhus of Epirus as his troops sped away; had this battle's victory perhaps cost him his ultimate victory? No, no. The ZeroComets were replaceable, this battle was not. Still, the primitive, unnecessary fear lingered in the man's mind as he formulated his army's next move.

Her tapestry was fraying. Threads snapping, chunks burned out. Lost into an oblivion of emptiness that made Maire both enraged and desperate. She was failing, and there was nothing she could do about it. She was up against too much. Too many enemies in too many places, with more resources and more vision than she had. She had her reasons for not joining the ITSDA, but right now their help was looking ever more necessary to salvage even a remnant of what this place had once been. She could see, so clearly, that they would never help her to reach her ultimate goal, and with her actions against them, she knew that any attempt at interaction with them would be met with outright hostility.

Or, perhaps, they may have been just as intent on rescuing this city as she was... She'd been a fool to turn down their help in the first place. She should have abused their assistance as much as she could, and gotten as much as she could manage done before they split ties, but she'd been blinded by the glory of the Pattern. Of order on a magnitude that made her mind quiver in a mixture of both terror and absolute joy.

Snap. Maire's gaze twisted, her eyes focusing on something strange. That thread... Threads never came back after being destroyed. She distincitly remembered that specific thread being wrenched from the world right before her eyes mere moments ago, as she'd been admiring the beauty of it. It was old, and constant. And while it certainly did damage to the surrounding patterns, it was so ingrained in them that... oh, now it made sense. A gifted? Yes, another gifted. The gifted all influenced the patterns in their own way, always indirectly, but this one seemed to... suck energy out of other patterns back into itself. The mechanics in its weaves, the little tedious twists and knots that made it possible boggled her, but that was definitely something worth looking at...

She swept out of City Hall quickly and quietly, severing the remaining ties she'd created between policemen on her way out. Many of them collapsed, and would likely be unconscious for a few minutes. The ones that didn't fell to their knees and retched all over the floor, but there uncomfortable situations didn't even register now that her focus was on that thread. That unbreakable thread.

Travel through cities was normally more difficult, but without the intervening crowds and with a clear line of sight and no thought as to the implications, Maire took full advantage of her gifts. She whipped through the streets at a pace that far outstripped a normal human, and made it to her location in record time. She didn't normally take advantage so much, since her influences on her own and surrounding patterns did its own kind of damage, but she was desperate.

A church came into view. Wrecked almost beyond recognition, but not gone. It took her a few moments to scan through the vehicles and wreckage to find what she was looking for, but when she did, she was surprised. That pattern was far too complicated for her to mimic. Or even to influence. She doubted anything but the barest of her abilities would even graze the thing. Whatever it was, it was inside an APC, and there were others in there.

She whistled, long and high, and crouched down low. A ripple slid along the weaves around her, slipping into the van through impossible nooks and crannies, and reverberated. Nothing happened, but the whistle had only been to get her a better feeling for what was in the van, not influence. Whoever the unbreakable thread was, the others in that APC were uncomfortable around it, and she took that as a sign. Another whistle, and the weave around and in the van loosened considerable. She trilled, and started shoveling energy into the unbreakable thread like coal into a fire.

Crimson was just starting to relax just a little when the Banshee noted that whatever was in the sack was doing its best to be a bit more than just meat. She grit her teeth and looked at it, but the calculated healing factor gave her a few minutes, yeah? Then why was the sack rippling like mad then?

Back at Schwartze Augen HQ somewhere in Ohio, Laura was monitoring the various sensor and data feeds from many different sources around the team she was assisting and it took a her a second to identify an anomalous auudio factor. She frowned, isolated, and analyzed the sound. It was music, but it was resonating at an odd frequency amongst other factors, "Ma'am, we have an anomalous sonic wave impacting the APC. Analyzing now, possible gifted."

In the tank, Crimson grunted and eyed the sack then jerked her thumb to one of the ghouls, "Up, lift the seat cushion." Without words, the team moved, comfortable in the presence of orders, "That hollow is lined with glass, dump the head in now... heart and spine as well. Quickly." Anyone else might ahve been grossed out by digging through a mound of generating living tissue, but Ghouls were beyond that and soon the three requested bits were dumped into the box. Vivianne then moved her hand over it and concentrated for a second before a stream of vitriolic acid poured into the confines. It was not a permanent solution to Frank Jackson, but it could buy them some time. "Dump the rest out the hatch."

A door was opened in the bottom of the APC and the rest of the bag's contents kicked out even as the APC tore away heading towards the docks.

The bag thudded unceremoniously to the ground, wriggling and swelling as the APC moved out of sight. By destroying the biggest surviving parts of him, Crimson rejuvenated the now surviving largest piece still shrouded in black plastic. Bard's infusion of power into the dead man's pattern enhanced his healing factor, reducing the time of days to minutes. Bone reformed, to be covered by muscle, tendons, and other expected parts; a skull grew out of the mass of tissue and calcium, white being coated by red then flesh. Eyes that had seen the events of decades swelled into once empty sockets, lips covered teeth stained by years of tobacco use as the right upper corner curled up as part of a cocky smile. Hair white as snow sprouted, eyebrows and a mass on his head that twisted and turned itself into a pompadour.

The zipper of the bag was torn asunder by strong hands, and a big man stood naked but alive on the street. Frank looked about to get his bearings as he stretched, wondering how long he'd been dead this time.

Bard sent one last note after the departing APC, the note latching onto it and sinking into its patterns like oil into a dry cloth, and turned her attention to the man standing in the street. She had never encountered, heard of, or seen him before, so she would need to be careful. Gifted were not known for their stability when encountering the unknown. She whistled, very loudly, to announce her presence and stood from behind her cover. The whistle trailed off into a series of other notes before fading from audible hearing range. She looked the man up and down before speaking, just loudly enough for her voice to carry the intervening distance. "My name is Bard," she said, "and whether or not you know me or what I've done, I need your help." Her gaze slid down the street momentarily before she began walking very slowly towards Frank. "I'm fighting too many foes alone to do my job. I've already let Ash and Zenith escape, and the Mayor get captured, and my defeats are stacking up against me."

She stopped just out of what she best assumed his lunging reach would be. "If you don't wish to help, I'll find others, but I can see where help is needed the most. And believe me," she said, going on a hunch, "there is going to be a great deal of combat wherever we end up, and it's going to be hard. And with me around..." she looked pointedly at his form, "you're abominably slow pace of regeneration is multiplied a hundredfold. You'd be unstoppable." She winced internally at that. Anytime she bolstered his regeneration, she would have to suck energy out of the rest of the pattern, and that made her uncomfortable.

She raised her eyebrows and waited for Frank, but kept herself in a defensive stance. Caution was not something she would give up anytime soon.

The Commander glared at his bank of monitors with narrowed eyes, he finished his Black Coffee in a single gulp and it's bitter taste complimented his bitter thoughts. The information portion of his screen was filled with information about his active soldiers as an active and constantly updating list, as he watched the icons representing three of the ZeroComets changed to simple red X's and their status changed from 'Active' to 'Deceased'. Four of his hostages were also flagged as 'Deceased' and two of his invaluable Numbered Brethren and his VIP hostage were classified as 'Injured'. His raid on city hall had been a success, but had yielded unsatisfying results.

Commander respected and valued every man under his command, but he'd never really liked the ZeroComets; their violent and unrestrained style meshed poorly with his own tactics, and the unit had disobeyed his direct orders on more than one occasion. The unit had been his high-attrition dumping ground for his most volatile and uncontrollable men, and although the casualties they'd suffered were unfortunate they weren't necessarily unexpected.
"Start querying information brokers. I want a profile compiled on that Gifted."
Just because Commander and Smokes had never seen eye-to-eye it didn't mean that he'd forgive Bards interference.
"Superhumans have been causing me too many near-misses, recently. Next time I'm not going to settle for half a victory."

He turned back to examine his tactical map. His list of objectives had grown short, and the majority of his remaining units were now falling back from their 'Phase Two' operations to deliver their hostages to Commanders reserve of getaway drivers. Megalodon altered it's course to follow them and re-aligned it's cameras to lead their escape, with it's many eyes and unspent firepower watching over his men Commander felt confident that he wouldn't need to add any new names onto his short list of casualties.

"Commander, reporting in. The Mayor is being filtered out of the Combat Arena with the rest of the hostages. What is the status of Operation #101?"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:26, Sat 27 June 2015.

Frank turned to look in the woman's direction as she whistled to announce herself, hands hanging at his hips as though out of habit. He took no action, remaining where he stood as she drew ever closer. He let her have her say, and only then did he respond.

"Glad to know you, Bard. Name's Frank, Frank Jackson. Fighting is one of my favorite pastimes, and from the looks things I haven't missed much and the battle for Chicago is still on. But, I'm a little under equipped at the moment. I don't even have clothes on my back, let alone my guns. Though, they may still be in what's left of the church."
This message was lightly edited by the player at 00:01, Mon 29 June 2015.

Phoenix Crimson shot through the air like a Crimson Comet, the explosions that propelled him along trailed him as a fiery wake. After his spar at the hospital he'd resumed his search by gliding above the city streets and attempting to find the source of the cities Chaos- however, he quickly realised that this wasn't a winning strategy.
By responding to the largest threats he'd spend far more time searching for Namidian's than actually fighting them. It also meant that he could only perform damage control, and wouldn't be able to drive them out of Chicago.

He changed course. Instead of following the major roadways he started to follow Chicago's powerlines. Even since before he'd arrived the loss of the city's electronic infrastructure had virtually crippled him, and he imagined that the city's military and law enforcement were suffering it's effects far worse. If he could restore Chicago's power he'd be able to inform Headquarters about the full extent of the attack, and perhaps give the forces of Justice inside the city a fighting chance at victory.

---

Chicago was famous for it's architecture... and if you were into that sort of thing, it was also famous for it's substations.
Within the city limits Chicago had a policy of disguising it's infrastructural buildings in elaborate façades. An observant Chicago citizen might note that several buildings within their city had doors which never seemed to open, or was clad in cunningly disguised ventilation grates instead of windows, but most people in the city walked past such buildings completely oblivious to their true purpose.
This one had no such illusion. The flaming truck smashed into it's side and the fizzing crackle of mismanaged electricity made sure of that.

The damaged substation was surrounded by a gaggle of powerless firefighters and electrical technicians, and Phoenix Crimson landed among them in his usual bomb-like manner. The men recoiled back from the explosion and were temporarily rendered dumbstruck by the hero's sudden and dramatic appearance. Phoenix Crimson grabbed the closest electrician by his collar and hoisted him into the air with one arm.
"Your city's getting slaughtered! Why's the power down?!" Phoenix Crimson clenched his fist as though he were threatening the poor public servant. In truth he didn't bear him any ill-will, but a long history of social manipulation told him that he was going to have to ask the technicians and firefighters to put themselves into a dangerous situation, and that the only way to achieve that was through intimidation. "Chicago doesn't have any radio. Your police are scattered and confused even as they're getting killed piecemeal, is that what you want?!"

The unfortunate technician he'd started to bully raised his hands defensively. "No- of course not!", the technician tilted his head towards the burning truck that was still crushed within the building. "We can't make repairs while the buildings on fire, and the firefighters cant do a damn thing while the lines are still on!"
Phoenix Crimson looked to the firefighters, and then to the damage. What the technician said wasn't just an excuse; any attempt to douse the flames had a very real chance of electrocution- and since Phoenix's objective was to restore power to the city disabling the HV powerlines feeding into the building wasn't a valid option.
He dropped the electrician and stamped over to the fireman nearest to him and snatched the hose from his hand, he held it high in the air as he addressed them with one of his signature speeches:
"I'VE ALWAYS BEEN TOLD THAT PUBLIC SERVANTS ARE THE 'REAL' HEROES. POLICE OFFICERS, FIREFIGHTERS, PARAMEDICS... WELL, TODAY YOU EARN THAT RESPECT."
Phoenix Crimson levelled the nozzle of his stolen fire-hose into the building and jammed it's release level forwards- his arms fought it's recoil and the air was immediately filled with the mist of vaporised water, complaining flames and the fizzing crackle of high voltage electricity forcefully grounding itself.
Even as an arc of electricity arced up his stream and grounded itself a few feet from his position Phoenix kept up his speech:
"YOU MIGHT WORRY ABOUT THE DANGER, BUT KNOW THIS! SO LONG AS YOU FIGHT FOR JUSTICE YOU CAN NEVER BE DEFEATED!"
"NOW GET MOVING! EVERY MOMENT WE WASTE IS ANOTHER INNOCENT CORPSE!"

Phoenix's idealistic speech had the desired effect, and five minutes later the building had been extinguished enough for the electricians to do their part. Four firefighters had been struck by high-voltage bursts of electricity and were currently receiving CPR, whether they'd recover or not was uncertain but in either case they'd have earned Phoenix's respect- it'd hadn't been fair to thrust his own reckless heroism onto the unempowered workers, but the situation called for it and at the end of the day Daniel wouldn't regret the choice he'd made.
After they'd had the chance able to inspect the damage the electricians reported back with dire news: Only a handful of the capacitors were still in a position to be repaired, and in their water-drenched, overheated and jury-rigged state it was doubtful that they could be relied upon. Furthermore news had filtered in that several other substations had been demolished in a similar way. In short, there was no way that the substation could restore power to the entire city.
They worked with what they had; and the electricians enabled and disabled each of the city's powerines until they found a combination that'd re-enable the city's police and military antenna towers.

The dark streetlights and buildings of Chicago were suddenly kicked from their dormancy, entire sections of city would startle awake with fluctuating and renewed electricity before falling dark again. After some time the electrical anomaly stopped and power was restored to the block surrounding the CPD Headquarters and nowhere else- moments later the silent Police wavelengths were reactivated with a squawk of static and a familiar voice:
"Thanks to the HEROIC efforts of the citizens of Chicago radio communication is restored! If backup is required let it be known, for I -PHOENIX CRIMSON- am standing by."
Phoenix had his finger pressed to the side of his mask, which allowed him to communicate over the newly restored channel. Under the mask his eyes narrowed.
"-and if any Namidians are listening in: I'm coming for you next."

In reply to Frank Jackson (msg # 56):

Bard shrugged. "Clothes are unnecessary with your gift, but I'll help you search for your weapons." She said, brushing past him and heading right for the crumbled church. "Do you have any idea where you may have left them? I'm afraid my gifts are better used to find people, not... guns, but I can try." She whistled, and the pattern rippled around her, but she had no idea what his weapons looked like. There was something vaguely gunshaped over there, but when she picked it up it was... a bent piece of metal. "Yes, see." She said, gesturing with the metal and tossing it into a pile of debris.

Janice rode into town on a semi loaded with emergency supplies. For days she has considered how best to attract a gifted without giving herself away.  She needed to get one in range to taste and if suitable to seduce into being her protector from Dieter.

The truck made it’s way to the University of Chicago Medical Center, epicenter for the wounded from the latest gifted battle at city hall. Hundreds wounded with lacerations from shattered glass, from stray bullets, from falling while running for their lives, on top of those shot intentionally.  So much physical pain, so much despair and grief;  the strength of it threatening to overwhelm her.  Janice gasped and started to briefly drown in the agony of it all till she forced up her mental walls and started to float above the wretchedness.

As she walked the halls of the Hospital Janice reached out from her mental fortress, tentatively licking at those in greatest pain, just barely touching the tip of her mental tongue to their agony.  Briefly she thought about sending their pain and despair on to Dieter as he alone would appreciate it as a gift. But instead she started to spread emotions of calm, peace and acceptance. Moans of pain begin to subside, tears of grief dry and the negative emotions of a hospital in crisis being to mellow. Then she reaches out to strong bio fields, the hospital visitors, the police, the nurses and doctors and starts to draw from them and redirect their energy into the weakest bio fields, those on the edge of death.  While the hospital staff and visitors begin to tire and weaken miracles of healing occur among the patients.  Inoperable wounds start to spontaneously heal, people with spinal injuries that would render them paraplegic or worse start to walk, massive burn victims begin to heal. The media take notice.  But through it all Janice draws no specific attention to herself.  Hopefully someone will come to investigate, some gifted or some agency to whom she can make contact.


[OOC] Let me know if this screws up time lines too much. I am thinking Janice can arrive at the hospital just as it is taking in victims from the last Gifted fight which should be close to where bard, jackson and the commander are timeline wise.. [/OOC]