Namorita takes Emotional stress d6 from attack in msg #104

The ambient noise coming from terrified agents calms when Storm's electric powers create a light in the darkness. There are still mumblings and whispers but screams are few. Now the room is getting stuffy and humid, and even though some of the darkness has been pushed away, a sandy haze has risen from the debris to obscure much that is not directly in front of a view.

She-Hulk steps from Susan Storm's side and toward the center of the room, around where the heroes are haphazardly gathered, while many of the scared agents have scurried to the far reaches of the room. "It takes a little more strategy to get out of a box than just punching walls. We're underground, so there's something on the other side of -- "

SSSSSKKKRRRKKKKKKKKKK

Just on the border of how far Storm's light reaches, the War Machine armor now lies as an empty, metal carcass on the floor. But if it's just a shell, then clearly the Punisher has escaped! As the light reveals the corners of the darkness, the Punisher steps into the area of dim radiance. He does not cower from the light, but the radiance shows the snarling, wide-eyed look of rage and determination on his face. His costume is torn to tatters and he is covered in cuts and bruises but the chest-wide skull is still largely intact on his torso. He takes determined steps forward. SKKKRRRKKK -- the War Machine's machine-gun cannon scrawls a line on the ground as the Punisher drags it behind him. While his attention comes to the source of the light, he pulls up the cannon and -- with a ringing clink -- cranks it into full readiness and aims it in front of him. Yet, while he looks into the space with a wild look in his eyes, he does not pull the trigger.

Punisher goes to Alternate Power Set

Next Action: any

“Should have killed the bastard when I had the chance” Bishop mutters under his breath.  It was the second time in the last few days he has been lenient, and he regretted it every time.  There won’t be a third time, he decided

“Stand down, for your own good.  I’m short of time and of patience”

Storm quickly responded to Bishop. "No, we're the good guys, Bishop. We only use lethal force when necessary. This guy might still be useful if he can learn to think before he acts." That seemed to be a tall task right now, but over her years of working with not only the X-Men but other groups of heroes, Storm had seen many who were once villains come over to the right side.

She was aware that Bishop was already thinking along those lines with his offer for the Punisher to stand down. But perhaps her words would help get through that thick skull of the Punisher.

The Punisher stands with the War Machine gatling-gun cannon at the ready, aimed and only needing the pull the trigger, but he satys still, with eyes narrowed on his stony face. If the vigilante hears Bishop or Storm, he makes no indication. His attention is trained beyond the heroes who have gathered near the middle of what is left of the space, on figures that make their way through the fog of settling dust compacted in the confined area, nearly obscuring those in it and those looking into it. The Punisher keeps his eyes on the figures in the mist, leaving no concern about those around him or whoever makes a threat against him.

From the darkness and gloom behind The Punisher, Rahne was prepared to explode into action against the vigilante, if he moved against the other heroes ... but her keen senses were also taking in the figures that make their way through the fog of settling dust compacted in the confined area

Keyed off by the people looking behind him, Bishop slowly turns on his feels to face the new threat.

The Punisher, illuminated by whatever electricity Storm chooses to provide, keeps his eyes to the area past the heroes, through the clouds of settling dust and into the darkness. Just barely can the figures be seen, having emerged from the four cells: one figure is closer, while three are farther away. Then another one, being the last to come from a cell, walks slowly past the others.

Storm adjusted her stance so that she could illuminate and see the emerging figures while keeping the Punisher within her field of view. Ororo wasn't moving very fluidly when she did, a limp revealing some of the damage that had been dealt by the Punisher's assault.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:51, Mon 11 Nov 2019.

Spider-Man's voice comes from outside the area to where Storm brings light but over the commotion of the agents cohabiting the space. "You guys sure don't talk to each other a lot. They say the key to any good team-up is communication. Or coincidence. Or something like that." A moment later his voice comes from the other side, near the ceiling. "Come on, guys! We could have been exchanging crock-pot recipes this whole time!"

Eyes narrowing, Bishop stepped forward and took the forefront
"Who are they?" he called out to Fury, even as kept his eyes on the four

Ororo suppressed the urge to tell Spider-Man to go mate with himself, choosing instead to attempt to discern who had decided to join he party now. "You're the one with the best eyes. Shouldn't you be the one doing the talking?"

“I have a lot of powers but for seeing in the dark, I got what you got," Spider-Man says from somewhere up above. "Though right now I’m glad one thing I have is this mask. You guys are going to be coughing up dust for days."

While anyone waits for the sound an answer from Fury, the noise in the room becomes noticeably quieter. The cacophony that had been ear-splittingly loud since the heroes arrived dies down, to barely much sound at all. Whatever agents are here have scattered into the depths of the smoke, leaving the heroes largely to themselves. Finally the sound settles to being able to hear one set of footsteps across the debris.

"Storm, can you clear out that smoke, perhaps?" he suggested, while still keeping his eyes at the direction of the footsteps.

"Perhaps." Under normal circumstances, it would be an easy task for someone so well-practiced at moving air around. She was, however, beaten all to hell and still in a tight space underground. Circumstances she generally despised.

OOC: I assume this is something for which I need to roll against the doom pool?

Team: d10
Claustrophobic: d4
Weather Supremacy: d12
Mystic Expert: d8

15:36, Today: Storm rolled 10,1,2,3 using d10,d4,d12,d8 with rolls of 10,1,2,3.  Storm makes some wind?

Total: 13, effect d12
One die added to the doom pool.

PP: 3 + 2 = 5

Add d6 to Doom Pool from Storm's Opportunity

Doom Pool (d6, d8) reaction to Storm's attempt to ["make some wind?"?], Total: 13, Effect: d12:
Storm's physical stress    d12

Watcher rolled 6,3,12 using d6,d8,d12 ((6,3,12)).

Total: 18, Effect: d8

Doom Pool: d6, d8 +d6 = 2d6, d8

Even at Storm's most ideal state she would have only so many options in this situation, but it does not help that every movement of her body is a terrible agony, making it torture just to stand, and her head pounds so much that the pain alone could cause her to pass out at any moment. Her body screams at her to stop yet she persists, to limited effect.

Unfortunately, Storm's powers are that of manipulation, not creating from close to nothing. She is able to encourage the air to circulate, but there is a limited amount in this enclosed space, with such minimal access to more that pushing for more could create a vacuum and do more damage than good. As it is, she churns the dust that obscures so much of the room, but only moving it around languidly instead of shifting it enough to reveal anything in the rest of the area.

Ororo shrugged. "Air is too thick down here." She took a deep breath and blew through puckered lips. Some of the smoke directly in front of her mouth moved. "This is the best I can do."

She did it again to see if it might help.

Bishop grunted in acceptance.  Nothing could be done, apparently, until whomever was obscured by the smoke stepped forward and revealed himself.

From the thick, misty curtain of settling dust amid the underground wreckage comes a single form. It is naked, with the smoke obscuring just slightly less than what is needed to identify the figure as male. A face unfamiliar but handsome, blank with a lack of expression. It is bald, with skin so smooth it seems to glow in the near-darkness. The only sound it makes is the crunching of debris under its feet, and a blank look in its eyes does nothing to betray its intentions. Its pace is slow, a speed with which to study surroundings, but deliberate, never losing its footing over the uneven ground like a clumsy human. Once it reaches the space equidistant to the gathered heroes, it halts and looks around itself languidly.

Ororo took a good look at the emerging figure and let out a long, low whistle. While she initially did a once over, she kept her eyes above the equator after her initial observation. She gave him a quick wave. "Hello?"

She wasn't certain he would speak English, but it was as good a place as any to start.

Bishop tensed as the naked man emerged from the beyond the cloud of smoke and soot.  The way he moved, his blank expression as he crushed the sharp debris under his heel - it was not natural.  Expecting the worse, he cracked his neck and put his right foot forward - ready to act in case his suspicion turns out to be justified.

The naked man stands silent and still, its gaze blank and calm. The air hangs still but the space is now quiet, with the crying gone but the people who were screaming now hidden beyond the fringes of the darkness around the heroes. Even Spider-Man is finally quiet.

After a moment with the dust settling around it, the man begins to raise its arms. Its hands move upward slowly, palms pointed to the ceiling. A golden aura rises from its smooth, white body to become a rich glow from within, shortly illuminating the dark space when its hands go above its head.

A steady rumbling underfoot slowly rises to a low rumble.

"Friends of yours coming to visit?" Ororo took a stab at what might be going on. She reflexively floated a few inches off the ground in case something was to happen to the floor. The lack of communication from the newcomer was a bit unsettling. As was the utter silence from Fury. That part was...infuriating?

The prickling sensation on Bishops skin slowly turned into an irritating rash, and with that went whatever remained of his patience.  He was not going to wait till things got even worse.
Putting his left foot forward he threw his right arm over his head, as if tossing a baseball, and then straight toward the man - firing a stream of concussive force straight at his chest:

Unrelenting 1d8
Team 1d8
Energy blast 1d12
Combat Expert 1d8

11:08, Today: Bishop rolled 4,6,5,7 using 1d8,1d8,1d12,1d8 with rolls of 4,6,5,7.  Energy blast at man.

Total: 13, Effect: 1d12
PP: 2+0=2
Next action: Storm

The glow coming from within the man increases, rising to illuminate the entire underground area with a soothing light. The place is not entirely visible, as the edges around where the heroes stand is still obscured by settling dust and debris, but everyone can see each other clearly. A few figures are visible on the fringes of the dirty mist but before their identities can be registered, Bishop lets forth his blast of pure energy!

Doom Pool (2d6, d8) reaction to Bishop's physical attack, Total: 13, Effect: d12:

K. rolled 6,2,2 using d6,d6,d8 ((6,2,2)).

Total: 8, Effect: d6

The blast hits the man right in the chest and the light -- whether that from inside the man or from Bishop, or both -- explodes outward, shining on and through those assembled. The blast of light sheers through the darkness and the dust and the bodies of each inhabitant but instead of searing pain, there is a feeling of weightlessness and ease. Everyone feels their bodies float upward and outward at the same time, a unique but not unpleasant sensation, as the most basic cellular levels of each hero falls apart. The place becomes utterly silent, from the lack of noise made by its inhabitants but also from the perception of each hero who loses their sense of hearing along with all other senses and control over their motor functions. Soon, after anyone looks to see their hands and bodies disintegrating in front of their eyes, the last thing each hero sees is their closest ally, fading into nothing.







End of Amazing Avengers #4A: "...Dead Stripes and Dark Stars"

Please do not post to this thread any further. But please feel free to contribute thoughts in the OOC thread or contact me through PM.

+1 XP to those who started and ended the adventure (Bishop, Storm, Wolfsbane)

As this adventure is now over, do not post to this thread anymore. But feel free to contribute ideas and thoughts in the OOC thread or contact me through PM. (There could be a short sub-plot while you're drifting through a dream-like state if you wanted to play it out.)

Next will be the second part of this adventure arc.

ACTS OF VENGEANCE 2 continues!