14510/HYDRA and the Fall of New York (2)

HYDRA and the Fall of New York (2)
Date of Scene:	26 March 2023
Location:	New York City, New York
Synopsis:	HYDRA attacks New York City with giant teleporting super sentinel robots. The heroes are ready and they respond in kind.
Cast of Characters:	Alexander Pierce, Cassandra Cain, Belinda Gutierrez, Peter Parker, America Chavez, Remy LeBeau, Frank Castle, Richard Stadler

---

Alexander Pierce has posed:
Previously On Reign of Terror...

Pete Ross sits down with Clark Kent, his long time friend and a journalist. "I think there's a HYDRA mole in the government"

Space Lex 17 barely averted disaster today when heroes intercepted the space shuttle mid flight to orbit when an engine began to overload. The crew are recovering at the Moon Base today as investigations in to the incident continue.

Lex Luthor looked at the giant project underway at a secret military base. No one ordered this project yet they'd been working on it for months. The stench of conspiracy was overwhelming and even the base commander could see from the look of the President's face that this wasn't meant to exist.

Alexander Pierce has posed:
... "It's powering up!" -- the giant robot, barely complete, came to life and attempted to assassinate the president, but the X-Men turned up just in time to save the day.

Pete Ross declared triumphantly, "I've figured it out. I know who it is and I have -proof-." Before he was suddenly teleported away. His Amazonian protection detail, including Wonder Woman, easily dispatched the HYDRA crew that teleported in to cover up the crime. Wrapped in Diana's lasso of truth the HYDRA agent confessed, "... we have a location on the docks where we teleport back to our base of operations"

The Titan's gathered up the remains of the satellite that almost destroyed Space Lex 17 and began their investigation. "It's some sort of dark energy capsule and beam weapon. Very hard to detect."

Batman and Donna investigate the facility where the satellite was constructed. "You have to help us - we're all grad students and they're forcing us to make weapons." As Batman detonated the explosives, the entire facility collapsed in to a void that opened briefly up to the stars.

President Luthor stood amongst the heroes assembled and laid out what the Government knew and what he expected of them when HYDRA attacked. "This is a dire situation and there's a lot we don't know. Including who is behind it."

The SHIELD and Amazon team moved in on the warehouse at the docks. The battle was on and several agents died before the team teleported in to the secret Swiss HYDRA base where they found the largest hidden HYDRA army the world had ever seen --- and ripped it to shreds. "Come with me Mr. Ross, we're getting you out of here"

Pete Ross stood in front of the large array of cameras: "Alexander Pierce is the current head of HYDRA and an enemy of the state."

Alexander Pierce has posed:
And now... [ https://youtu.be/qGChJXejJtA ]

It's a typical day in New York City. The taxi's and cars are streaming along the streets. The bridges and tunnels are busy as usual. Helicopters hover about in the sky. Business as usual, and business is booming on wall street. The sky is blue with barely a cloud in the sky. Street performers are hustling for a living, dancers prepare for their next performance on Broad way. Students attend university. The city is alive, it thrums with life. Truly one of America's greatest cities up there with Metropolis and Los Angeles, but dominanting in pure size and population.

There is a crackle in the air as a gigantic robot, 30 foot tall, heavily armored and shimmering with a force field appears on Brooklyn Bridge. Another appears with a fwomp on Manhattan Bridge. A third appears Roosevelt Bridge. A fourth appears in the Financial district. A fifth on Bronx-Whitestone Bridge. The sixth appears amidst the Army Reserve base.

Up in orbit, satellites have spun in to action - the dark stealthy things begin to emit intense beams of energy down in to the robot receivers and their chests weapons begin to power up. In a matter of moments, energy lances from their chest and blasts across the roads, in to buildings, over cars and buses; and in the Reserve base, over the hangers filled with tanks.

Klaxxon's begin to fill the air across all of New York City. A sound that hasn't been heard since aliens attacked. But this isn't aliens. Not this time. These older era Sentinel Robots have been recycled, upgraded, repurposed. Those mutants unfortunate enough to be near them can feel their mutant suppression field starting to affect them already. They declare with loud horns of their own, "ENEMIES OF HYDRA DETECTED. SURRENDER OR BE DESTROYED"

Cassandra Cain has posed:
Batman knew what was going on. Therefore, his team knows what's going on. Within reason, within limits, but he doesn't want anyone getting killed so basic details were available. Even for the girl sent out toward the bridges. She watches from the sidelines as a gigantic robo-whatzit lands ON THE BRIDGE, and stands there with her hands in her hoodie pockets.

Okay. Time to get the plan in action.

Cassandra reaches deeper into her pockets, reaching to the internally generated batarang 3d printers. She grabs the first available, and her arms whip out to her sides. The 'rangs fly, imbedding into posts in the middle of the densest population areas, the speakers that Barbara programmed ready and active.

Then, loud as loud can be from a little speaker in a batarang, comes the message: ALL CITIZENS SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY. THIS IS AN EMERGENCY. SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY. DO NOT TRY TO ENGAGE, DO NOT PUT YOURSELVES OR YOUR FAMILIES IN DANGER. EMERGENCY, SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY.

Cass herself runs down the street, reaching in and pulling out batarangs as soon as they're printed, and whipping new ones out to all who aren't moving fast enough. Get moving you idiots!

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Giant robots. Giant metal robots!

Giant metal *Nazi* Robots!

It is like a step straight out of darkest nightmare as Belinda Gutierrez stares, caught in utter, abject shock. This was supposed to be a day for celebration, for testing, for acing that final driving exam at long, long last!

"Go," she says without poreamble to the poor bald-headed driving instructor who "I do not get paid enough for this!"-- unlatches the door and bolts for the city! Wise choice.

"I must be loca," Belinda mutter to herself, stepping out the driver's side. Barely time to duck into an alcove, an alleyway between too-small buildings near the bridge. No time to find a proper replacement uniform either-- only time to grow, to stretch, to change---

To face the danger. Lives at risk. People in danger. Wearing tattered, rent ruins of cloth, the werewolf emerges in snarling fury--

Silverdane!

Peter Parker has posed:
An attack on New York. This was the opportunity that he was waiting for. A chance to show the world what he could do as the Spider. The sort of opportunity to really showcase the power, and the strength, and the cunning. The alarms sound and as the citizenry scrambles, the Spider swings his way towards Roosevelt Island, where one of the robots seems intent upon destroying the bridge and cutting off the city.

Peter Parker would not have minded that particular bridge being destroyed all that much, if things can down to it. But, nonetheless, villains cannot triumph, and giant robots, while not necessarily the most satisfactory of prey to bring down, represent a solid opponent.

Besides, how many other than the Spider could stand a chance against them?"

America Chavez has posed:
America Chavez was--

There was a bell, and frying meat, and--

And her hand's still warm from bacon, egg, and cheese, but--

But--

But America has heard these alarms before. Not THESE alarms - these specific tones, in this specific city - but a dozen LIKE them; the form differs, but the context is always the same.

The name of the city changes, but New York is always New York at its heart: on Earth after Earth, it finds itself in crosshairs far greater than itself with a disturbing regularity.

America Chavez was somewhere, getting something from someone, and not an iota of it matters once impending death pierces the relative peace of the day. Wherever she was, she's closing on the Roosevelt Island Bridge and the gleaming executioner looming above it just seconds later, etching faintly glowing red, white, and blue streaks through the air in her wake.

Today would not be the FIRST time she's witnessed this particular flavor of monster coming to reap a terrible toll on untold millions of innocents, but--

'ENEMIES OF HYDRA DETECTED'

Doubling down on their inherent fascism with the sickly green stain whose tendrils have inexplicably strangled so many Earths not so dissimilar to this one is an awful new permutation-- one which she sees little choice but to punch so goddamned hard that HYDRA scientists three dimensions over will see it and know better than to try this again.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
Ah, good ol' NYC in almost-fully sprung Spring. The birds are chirping, the taxis are honking, the curbs are only a fifty fifty chance of being ankle-deep slush. It's paradise it is.

Well, not really, but it's hustling and bustling and if there's one thing Remy LeBeau appreciates it's a solid hustle. Not that he's up to one of course. He's moments from having dropped a couple bucks in a dollar slice joint... and pulling off the impossible of making eyes at the cashier for a complimentary drink with mirrored sunglasses on.

Somehow, a lot of people don't find his suggestive eyebrow positioning so charming when they can see those eerie eyes of his.

Something the cajun mighta thought about ruminating on to the pigeons after polishing off the slice he's worked two thirds of the way through on his stroll towards the Bronx-Whitestone bridge, letting out a low groan as he begins the ascent up to the walking deck. Gonna be a long hike. But that's what the pizza's for.

But apparently NYC's not just the city that never sleeps, it's the city where a guy can't enjoy a couple cheap lukewarm slices of pizza without a killer robot getting up in his business.

Pizza hasn't even reached the ground from when Remy dropped his meal when that robot's pitch heightens, that chest weapon glows, and destruction arcs out.

And doesn't go anywhere near him, as it rips through the bridge's roadway.

Not some strange new Sentinel out to punch his ticket today then.

His internal monolog immediately shifts to a stream of consciousness bilingual display of creative profanity, except for the brief flashes of priority. A minivan teetering on the edge of falling into a blasted hole in the roadway. And a young girl's face in the window of the back door.

You'll get yours, robot. First though, the cajun's got a window to break an' some unfortunate civilians to rescue, extendable bo staff deployed at close range to shatter the van window, "C'mon folks! Welcome t'the big city! Daily robot attacks now at ten, twelve an' two fifteen!"

Banter. Banter's great. Keeps that icy grip of terror from really clenching in.

Hopefully long enough for him to get the most endangered folks to something close to safety.

And for that cold fear to be overwhelmed by burning anger. And then he can do what needs doing to that tin can with delusions of grandeur.

Frank Castle has posed:
Castle's been running a little low when it comes to certain firepower and at the moment, none of the black market arms dealers on Micro's list are obliging him by getting a shipment of the grade of weaponry he needs. Nothing he can "liberate" and add to that armory hidden under the city. So Frank's had to resort to a backup plan: skimming a little off the munitions stored at the reserve base.

The name tape on the Army uniform he wears reads BARRETT. He's even got an ID in his pocket that matches. Of course he acts like he belongs there, perfectly at ease, as he heads towards the armory at a brisk march. The quicker he can get the truck he knows is loaded with RPGs and other man portable arms, the better. Soldiers are on the list of those he won't kill...and that only makes it the more difficult.

But the best laid plans go awry...and the sudden appearance of that robot has the march turning into a sprint. The pistol he has on him won't do a damn thing to HYDRA's tin toy. Might have to make use of those weapons he intended to steal much quicker than he'd originally thought.

Alexander Pierce has posed:
Televisions and projection screens around New York become hijacked and seated at a desk in front of a camera is Secretary of Defense Alexander Pierce. He has his hands placed in front of him, fingers interlocked as he addresses New York.

"People of New York. You have heard from our government that I am the current head of HYDRA. This is true. However, I am not here to harm you - I am here to liberate you. The legacy of the American Government is long and brutal. Oppression of the masses is created through conspiracies. How many of you struggle to pay for your rent, your food, have to forego being human just to survive week to week. The powerful elite strangle us with their twisted laws and rules."

"You believe that HYDRA is some wing of the Nazi regime but we were never part of the Nazi's. No, we fought against them, from the inside, trying to turn over their hatred and instead we were crushed by the imperialistic capitalists of the West. The world would be a utopia by now, enriched by science and shared wealth if HYDRA had triumphed."

"Set aside your institutionalised falsehoods about who we are and see for yourself, the grandeur of our action. We will sweep aside the racism, the hatred, the inequality, and America will start fresh, start anew, just as our forefathers intended. We bring you FREEDOM."

The giant robots don't -walk-.. they start to -run- down the bridges as their energy weapons blast up the roads in an attempt to isolate New York City from the rest of the country. A whole city as hostage - there isn't a hero on the planet who could lift a finger against that many souls trapped and under the thumb of HYDRA.

Attempting to inspire with his speech Pierce continues, "It's time to rise up. Rise up against this miserable life forced upon you - take back your country. Take back your freedom. Fight for you, fight for HYDRA!"

The signal is cut off and a US Government seal appears with the words TERROR ALERT flashing across it as Lex fights back against Pierce's propaganda.

People begin to run for their lives as cars and taxi's explode. On the bridges, one of the buses is knocked by a giant robot leg almost off the edge, teetering over and threatening to fall.

Richard Stadler has posed:
"I'm sorry, sir. THey got the address wrong here. You're supposed to collect it from the Center on Battery Road."

Stadler took a breath, before nodding. "Fair enough, Sergeant. Are we certain on that? I've collected from here before. It's not a big deal, I work on Staten Island-"

Air raid sirens. For the moment, the aspect of where a paycheck is supposed to be headed, forgot for the moment, as the winds carry the rising sound of simple devices attached to loudspeakers. For a moment. Then the sound of something he hadn't heard before, /very/ close by. The sounds of sirens so close and then there was a booming voice... Enemies of Hydra?"

A thousand things went through Rick's head. The Sergeant at the desk look wide-eyed. 36B. He had to be, at that rank. No CAB on his uniform. How many more on this base were like this? How many were on duty today? How many people woule be rushing to the nearest base looking for protection?

He was out of time. All right. He snapped his fingers in front of the Sergeant. "Armory. You're with me, come on. Who's the OIC today? Major Whitleby?" A numb nod. "All right, let's go. You have a phone? Start calling down your phone tree."

Richard breaks out of the room to the sound of chaos, dust from explosions, the sound and blastwave of hangers and the acrid stech of burning metal, JP5 and deisel and smoking Abrhams and Bradley's, and chaos between. He worked over his cellphone, trying desperately to remember the number of the head of the local battatlion. Fast busy. Fuck. "You!" He points toward three sodliers looking lost. "YOu're with me! Start getting who you know together!" He says, before flagging down a sprinting soldier. Quickly looking down to the man's uniform. Oh, thank God. "Captain... Barrett!" No Chinese fire drill for officers. "Colonel Stadler, Army, Retired; you look like you know where your going. Armory?"

Cassandra Cain has posed:
Cass grabs two more batarangs and lobs them into a nearby area where...honestly she's not sure why people are gathered there. It hardly matters, as she gets nearer to the robot and its path of destruction. There's a lot going on.

She watches it focus on damaging the bridge, and gives a little shake to her head. So much talking, these attackers always like to babble, don't they? It's like they think talking will accomplish something.

She watches the robot hit a bus, and frowns slightly as it starts to go over the side. Then? Then Cass looks around the crowd, making a split-instant judgement call based on what she can see, who's in it, and what she guesses they can do based on their body language.

A half-second later Cass is sprinting toward the bus. She ignores the fact that it's about to go over the side, and she leaps into the air. She shatters a tiny window, vanishing into the vehicle, and starts gathering kids. The driver. Anyone who'll move when ordered.

Because from what she just saw coming up the street, she thinks (prays) that she's got time to get them out. She's never seen that person before, but you gotta gamble sometimes.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
No time for fear, doubt, panic-- only time to move, and try not to get stepped on by giant metal monstrosities!

Silverdane forgoes all semblance of civility, falling to all fours as she lunges up to the bridge, racing across in swift, long, ground-eating lopes. Faster than anyone would dare-- she leaps across a pile-up of cars, slamming down with a skitter of asphault and skittering metal. That bus-- kicked casually aside by the metal juggernaut, forgotten as the behemoth goes about its monstrous work. Silverdane wishes for a single moment-- spit fire. Eyebeams. Claws that could cut steel like hot butter.

But none of those does she possess. Only the speed to race to the teetering bus, to slide beneath like a baseball player stealing home, to loop an arm around the bus's rearmost axle. Ignore the stench, the smell of old oil and vehicle grease and auto exhaust-- ignore and focus. Opposite hand digging at the roadtop, claws begging for savage purchase in the black and gravel and tar.

Holding, clinging for life and lives against groaning weight!

Peter Parker has posed:
Upon arriving at the bridge, the Spider starts to realize that maybe, just maybe, this is a bit much for him to take on by himself. He adopts a perch, peering at the monstrosity, and starts to wonder what kind of allies he might call in. There was that girl Spider, but he hadn't seen her since...well, he probably does not have that bridge anymore. No pun intended. He starts to think of who else the Spider has been seen around with. But would he even have any way of reaching them?

Nonetheless, destruction is raining down on New York, and he will NOT be any less than the Spider before him was. He flings out a line of webbing and swings into action, bearing down towards the giant robot. He knows he has strength, plenty of it. He'll see just how strong the skin of this giant robot is.

America Chavez has posed:
Roads can be fixed; people, not so much.

Within moments of the chest beam's deployment, America drops out of her collision course with the Sentinel's eye in favor of careening towards the bridge--

"RUN! AWAY FROM THE GIANT FUCKIN' DEATH BEAM!"

-- and booming instructions to anyone caught in its path. There's just enough time, enough space for the Traveler to slam into the pavement with earth-shaking force, planting herself in the way of fleeing citizens.

Earth-shaking; not cracking.

The ground rumbles beneath America's landing; not a single fracture spreads from beneath her feet. The air warbles keenly, a razor-sharp note slicing through the air as reality itself peels apart into a five-pointed escape hatch. On the other end lie the antiseptic white, metal walls of something not so dissimilar from a stadium seeded with something not so dissimilar from grass where steel-clad giants play a game not so dissimilar from football while legions of fans - some human, some machine, some lying somewhere in between - cheer for explosive violence-- and then winnow, slowly, into murmuring confusion writ large as a flying woman and a pair of vast, glowing stars suddenly appear amidst the game.

Hopefully, she's trailed in good time by fleeing New Yorkers, because her goal is to lead terrified people from portal to the next, shepherding them from the terror of a disintegrating bridge, through a Neohattan cyberball arena, to Madison Square Garden on the other end, hoping to deposit them somewhere with a chance of standing strong amidst the hell of this invasion.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
Remy's busy guiding the family out of the teetering minivan with more and more urgency. Kid... kid... kid... dog... kid... mother...

If it weren't about to plunge into a river, this'd be a pretty good ad for this thing's carrying capacity. But Remy feels the tires skidding, the van beginning to accelerate its inexorable meeting with the water below. Extended bo staff is thrust further into the van for the father to grab and use for leverage. He'll have some scars from the metal and glass as the van's motion accelerates as he just barely makes it out, Remy backpedaling from the crumbling concrete that used to be the resting place of one fine economy minivan. hand waving for the family to run like the dickens and get off the bridge.

And away from the killer robot. And it's definitely a killer robot because Remy can see the ripples of disturbed waters below. There's no way all those vehicles were empty.

And then there's a speech booming from every screen around. "Oh c'mon, what a load of horsesh-" He glances to the family still gathering themselves up. "Hockey. Horsehockey like my mama used to say."

She did not. She did not say horsehockey at /all/.

Remy's dark eyes roll as he tucks his sunglasses away. People aren't going to be focused on anti-mutant hysteria. After all, Mr. Big up on the screen just took credit for them.

Oh sure, they're not the Nazis, they're the _good guys_ with the big killer robots blowing up bridges and hijacking the airwaves to broadcast a manifesto. Totally normal activities for freedom-loving do-gooders.

Remy snorts out a low laugh, almost ag rowl, "Yeh. An' if you wanna believe that, I got a bridge t'sell you in Brookl-"

Ouch. Too soon, Remy. Too soon.

Still, with the panic in good and full process, and families running from the bridge, Remy's pulling a pack of cards from his pockets, fanning them out and beginning to do that voodoo that he do.

Which is to say building kinetic charge in the cards. That robot's not going to go down to them though. Hell, those old purple Sentinels barely went down, and those were Ford Pintos, this thing's a Dodge Charger.

But Alexander Pierce is right, America has problems.

Like the fact that no one thinks infrastructure spending is sexy. Like the fact that a lot of bridges are held together by spit and bailing wire and hope. And a big killer robot? He didn't see a weight limit sign on his walk, but there's no way that thing's within standard roadway weight limits.

And so he begins to throw cards strategically, aiming for the weak structural points.

Of the bridge. Not the entire thing of course, just... twenty, thirty feet ahead of Captain Stompy.

Let's see if these Nazis built their robot to _fly_, mon amis.

Frank Castle has posed:
Frank almost ignores Stadler's call...but memory snaps in just quick enough to have him respond and all but screech to a halt. The irony of him knowing where he's going for nefarious purposes conjures up a glimmer of dark amusement in his face, but he reassembles the proper stoicism in moments.

"Yes, Colonel," he says, "This way," He doesn't set off at that run again. Now it's a jog, trusting Stadler to keep up. He's even issuing orders over the comm system, Micro having obligingly patched him in earlier so he can keep tabs on base security. Won't this be wonderful, an ex-Marine and wanted vigilante in impromptu command of a bunch of soldiers.

"Obviously, whoever sent them knew to take out the heavy weaponry first. But with luck, we've got enough left to do some damage. Just gotta get there and get them distributed before it turns its attention there." Then Castle's shaking his head. "HYDRA, for Christ's sake. Where's Captain America when you need him?"

Richard Stadler has posed:
There was a moment of mental pause, but Stadler dismissed it. It wasn't as if he was wearing a uniform, so demanding a 'sir' would be excedingly pendantic. "Good. Looks like you've got a radio. Given I don't see a comms specialist here, you're it until I find someone else. Get any NCO's in your unit and have them start organizing under cover... The admin building. Should have a fallout shelter we can use. And get me someone with a truck. Humvee, HEMETT, someone's fucking F150." He's already moving over at a jog toward in the right direction. Armory. That must have been it, there. He at least looked over the satillette photos before going on base, and thank god for being paranoid.

"From what picture he got from that... monstrosity cracking the concrete of the base, it's going after the heavier stuff first. And it better be through, because the hard truth is every parked AFV it's focusing on destroying are minutes it's not hitting us. Forget him, Barrett. We've got what we have, and it's our time to step up."

There was no time. No time for any of this. FrHe grabbed whoever he could as he walked through. A second of confusion was a second wasted, he knew; 2012 had imparted some lessons, and he had went over them on the jog over. "All right people, listen up! Javelins are good, but quanitity more than quality! AT4s, M72s, Gustavs, confined space models if you can! Grab carbines if you can but don't waste time if you can't!" He yelled, quickly walking over through the armory. Accouting was going to be a bitch after this, but it existed to be used.

He didn't look to glare at the Secretary of Defense on the television in the armory. Never trust the guy talking about peace and new beginnings while bumrushing the telephone exchanges. "Whatever you can't carry, start loading up in whatever transport we get!"

Alexander Pierce has posed:
With the military base trying to re-organise themselves to go on the offensive - not that it's easy. The robot turns quickly and its energy whip sweeps across buildings. This was not a military base set up to repel a giant robot. It doesn't have force fields and pew pew laser cannons. This is the reserves.

But even so - under the Colonel and Frank's example soldiers fall in line and the armoury is swung open. All the toys Frank could ever want. The motherload - all there for the taking. And they're just HANDING it to him. If this weren't near world war 3 it'd be a moment where the holy trumpets sound.

But as fire is returned from police, from military, even from a few gun boats that have responded from the marine base in Brooklyn - their munitions hit an energy shield sending waves wibbling in the air as the bullets and shells strike a barrier and fall to the ground.

Even Remy's exploding cards strike the force field. The force field is no slouch - without a doubt enough munitions would shatter it but it's tanking these basic weapons with ease.

Peter comes face to face with that same force field and can feel the affects of directly. It's like his momentum is arrested and he slips off an infinitely slippery surface; only webbing saving him from going splat on to the ground.

But if it weren't for Cass and Belinda that bus would have toppled over and the people on board would surely be dead. As Remy points out - other cars did fall over the edge and they very likely weren't empty.

The people rush through America's portal even as she eyes off the fight against the robot. But it focuses its attentions suddenly on one set of cars in particular. A long black car and several armoured SUVs. Light dances off them as the beam hits - these cars have force fields. Over the comms people can hear <<"Vice President Reese is caught in the attack. We need backup!">>

Cassandra Cain has posed:
Time passes quickly in an emergency, and so long as Belinda and Remy are working, Cass is working too. She gets kids out, out out! and with aplomb, with haste, and with a bunch of other words that Babs has been trying desperately to get her to memorize at English lessons.

Honestly English is a weird language. You can't even.

She manages to get kids out, the driver's head banged up and sore, but it's just in time. Just barely. So much to do, and more and more problems being caused by that...annoying robot thing.

So? Address the problem, not the symptoms. Cass puts her fingers in between her lips, then blows out an ear-piercing whistle. It's aimed at Belinda. It's aimed at Remy. It's aimed at anyone else she might have missed, anyone who might be able to actually dent metal.

Then she upnods both, and points at the robot doing the damage. The one threatening to collapse the entire bridge and make all their work for naught. Force field or not, they're fighting a losing battle if they only go for the cars.

So Cassandra Cain starts toward the robot, which she has literally zero chance against. Because that's what heroes do.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Silverdane holds that bus, muscles aching, the pain of straining tendons creeping in-- The high-pitched whistle signals, and she release with a whimpering groan. Without her counterweight, the vehicle falls, tumbling, slamming to the river below. The wolf-woman shudders as she rises-- too close. Far too close.

Seconds. Seconds matter. Rising to her feet again, she shakes off the ache literaly; a ripple races through her body before she lunges forward anew, staying to both leg sin proper bipedal frame as she answers the call. She knows she can't dent armor. Steel. What *ever* those things are made of! Surging towards the towering terror, one thought in mind:

Need a /plan/--

Peter Parker has posed:
The robot seems even bigger as the Spider gets closer to it. Bigger still as he swings around and lands on its back. It briefly occurs to him that if the robot has the ability to move its head 360 degrees, he's about to be in big trouble. But he has noticed that sixth sense usually protects him, so hopefully that is still a thing.

He immediately starts pounding at the first joint of the metal he can find, seeing if he can peel his way beneath the metal exterior.

America Chavez has posed:
America's the last one through the portal-- not only because it's her job to guard the rear, but because she wants to bring a souvenir back from Earth-Cyber to commemorate her trip. Seconds after the last citizen arrives in MSG, the star-spangled Traveler's ripping through the cavernous space over their heads on a rapidly arcing route from the inside out, her desire to escape without just blowing through a wall and compromising the work she just did slowing the otherwise impossibly fast young woman down to a frustratingly measured pace.

This does mean that Peter's stuck facing a hyperoptimized killing machine all by himself for a long, taut string of moments -- a feat that the Friendly, Neighborhood Spider's surely capable of, for all the anxiety it might inspire.

But it also means that when America reappears, booming back into the air above Roosevelt Bridge, the woman from afar's cradling an enormous, yellow metal sphere with bright red lights blinking on four of its sides: the 'ball' in (American) Cyberball, an alternate Earth's permutation of the ancient art of gridiron combat. Unlike similar games played in other dimensions - including this one - Cyberball pits teams of heavy metal combat robots against one another to see which can score the most points by running or punting a heavy steel bomb all the way down the playing field into the opposing teams end zone. The arenas come with state of the art shielding; the players, copious backups and warehouses full of spare parts for on-the-fly reconstruction, all in the name of keeping the game flowing whenever one team or the other exhausts its last down and pays the price.

Of these details, exactly one matters:

The explosion that erupts when America slams her body into the Sentinel's force field is devastating, powerful enough to send even the nigh-invulnerable young woman rocketing away from the point of impact.

Whether the combination of brutal momentum and explosive force is ENOUGH to open a hole in the machine's force field for she or Spider-Man to take advantage of, though-- that remains to be seen.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
Remy keeps on throwing cards, at least until he's thrown... 54? 56? However many come in a pack when you don't bother removing the rules for draw and stud poker. It's not a card, but it's card-shaped, so away it goes to annoy several hundred tons of cold, uncaring metal.

And it doesn't help that he's spent the last month doing a whole lot of 'Avoiding Danger Room training sessions', so he's really feeling the burn in his lungs from all this running and kinetic energy discharge.

Which, of course, is why he decides to do it some more. Not the running, well, not yet.

Cards aren't doing the trick, but really, when you work with a team of mutants that sometimes fight this big doofus named The Juggernaut, whose big thing is being unstoppable, you need to think outside the box. Robot's walking down the bridge.

Put a bigger hole in the bridge, robot can't walk on the bridge anymore.

And he's pretty sure whoever's compact sports car this is will get covered by insurance. Or giant robot attacks void their coverage and they're outta luck anyway.

They're going to be especially out of luck in a couple minutes when Remy finishes charging the car with kinetic energy.

And that's when he's going to run again. Because if those small booms don't work, maybe one inadvisably big one will.

And if it doesn't? Well, discretion is the better part of valor blah blah blah.

He's just going to run away and wait for one of those flashier costumed people to /fly/ in and deal with the tinker toy.

Given the world-ending noises he keeps hearing from further around the city... well... Yeah, he's got no clue what they mean except at least he's not the only one whose day is _all_ outta sorts now.

Frank Castle has posed:
The irony is not lost on Frank in the least - giving him what he came to steal. At least he's too busy directing the soldiers to be grinning like a maniac over it. Micro is laughing softly in his ear about it, until he's summarily hushed. Can't keep track of too many different streams of communication in this chaos.

Satisfied that the men are armed, he's ordering them to disperse. No clumping up to be an easy target. Not with that terrible energy weapon. "See if you can get us some air support scrambled," he tells the hacker. "Hell, if you're feeling daring and they aren't already up to their ass in alligators, get SHIELD on the hook. Just don't get caught." That's a first...but then, even Captain Lone Wolf will play nice with others when it's this desperate.

Now it's his turn to try. Frank snags a Javelin and darts out of the armory - running out into the relative open so if the robot focuses on him, it won't get the rest of the weaponry by default. <<Frank, what the- what are you *doing*?>> Micro demands over their link. "Trying to earn myself a pardon, what d'you think, Lieberman," he growls, before taking aim and firing.

Richard Stadler has posed:
Weapons are aquirred, and Stadler's getting out of that building as quickly as he can, watching as two PFCs with the crossed canons of the Quartermaster Corps shove weapon crates, ammo boxes, and loose rifles in the back of a Tacoma. Might have even been one of their cars. They didn't have time for anything specialized; the splinntering wood and shattered concrete of old buildings built in the 40s and 50s were an easy demonstration to that.

"Christ. I thought 2012 was bad; we at least got a ceasefire then. Don't know if they plan on bringing in ground forces after this, but it has to be a possibility."You three!" He says, a knife hand toward two PFCs and a corporal. Section Leader? He looked it. Most importantly they had rifles on their collars. "Three Gustavs, with ammunition. Go-" He starts, before there's a thud, a boom of an explosive shell slamming aganist the machine... Or trying to. A shimmering field putting paid to the protection they had. "Scratch that. Initial load out; two smoke, one illumination. Go for the sensors and button it down. Move."

They take off at a run, before Stadler to a Gustav himself and a few tandem warheads. Slapping the truck on the roof. "Go! Admin building!" He yells, before he turns to the other soldierrs assembled.

And then pointing to 'Barrett. "Captain's got the right idea! Disperse, don't clump up! Cover does /not/ equal concealment, so grab the best of the latter you can!" He notes. He has to yell over the sudden thunk of munitons, the explosions on the forcefield near the eyes of thermal smoke and a bright, painfully bright flare in the daylight. If they can't kill it, they can buy time. "Load up HEAT! Those of you with GMMs, I need a volunteer to lase the target!"

Alexander Pierce has posed:
[ https://youtu.be/ZgB2qItM76g ]

Army Reserve base

The troops disperse as they are organised and armed by the colonel and by Frank, who valiantly moves out in to the open with a javelin to draw its attention. It's torso turns, which means its weapon is coming at him too.

The quinjets arrive - the SHIELD cavalry is never late. Their decloak with a shimmer and begin to fire missiles at the 30 foot robot even as an AC-130 in the sky shimmers and uncloaks too. Its heavy weaponry begins to blast down at the robot hitting it with such concussive force that the air ripples around it, the shields twitching from the machine. The javelins and gunfire launch at the beast and then there is a *FWIP*

The robot reappears just outside the military base and its beam lashes out in to the air at the AC-130. The plane's wing and tail are sheered off as it starts to fall from the sky. Oh yes, they teleport.

America stars in with the football. Not the nuclear kind, the alternate dimension extreme sports kind. If you don't pass the ball on quickly enough it explodes. And that's what happens. The shield winks out of existence as the group ambushes it. Belinda and Peter taking a knee, a hip, effectively cripples the robot --- but the beams of energy feeding it keep moving expecting it to move with it. The energy burns the ground with explosions in lines away from the robot. The robot itself is trashed by the heroes. The satellite beams though keep progressing toward the city.

Remy's robot continues down the road not expecting one of the cars next to it to explode with extreme prejudice. Its shield takes the blast but the robot is blown off its feet and smashes in to the side of the building. Turning its energy weapon slashes across the far building looking for who caused the explosion - looking for Remy.

Cassandra Cain has posed:
Remy's done one hell of a job, that big boom dropping the robot to a manageable level. That leaves it somewhere that people with closer-range stuff can act. Ones who haven't attracted attention.

Cass throws a silent thank-you in the cajun's direction, then upnods Belinda and moves. She doesn't know about the satellite beams yet, but if taking down her robot is the goal?

She pulls out two slap-bombs filled with metal-eating acid, and tosses one toward Belinda, with a motion toward the head.

She goes for the shoulders herself, inclined to the targets she without powers can maybe actually land. Normal human here.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Without the defenses of its forcefield, it is still a giant machine of steel and armor and remorseless indomitability. Built to stomp on tanks, Silverdane is certain of! Claws helpless against multi-inch armor, she pauses for a moment, quivering before the mammoth mon--

She catches the slapbomb from Cass with a blink of surprise, a glance turning to quick comprehension as she nods!

The werewolf lunges forward. Both thick hands clutched protectively around the comically small device, she runs for the Hydra Sentinel. Neither graceful nor beautiful.... but it gets the job done.

Run, leap, howling gusto-- she slams to the siude of the Sentinel's head, clutching for dear life as she bobs, twirls-- riding the "bucking 'bot" like some demented cowboy.

Around and twist, she barely has time to slam the bomb firmly between the metal beast's eyes before her grip slips--

The ground is decidedly thumpy as she slams into it, air wheezing from her lungs. Only three stories!

".....ow."

Peter Parker has posed:
With the force field gone, the Spider wastes little time. Peeling apart the metal construct, it goes to work pulling at cables, wires, and whatever it can find. One does not need to punch a foe out to defeat it, if severing its hamstring or carotid will do the trick.

That is, after all, the best way to bring down big game.

America Chavez has posed:
Whatever America's wearing was spun from the same phenomenal cloth as the woman herself: both sport some cuts and smoky black splotches, but all in all they're intact-- worse for wear but ready for war.

(The office building steadily crumbling inwards all around her as she pulls herself from ruined floors and shattered desks? Not so much.)

By the time she makes it back to the Spider and the Sentinel, the former's enthusiastically deconstructing the latter in a violent fit of reverse engineering. "Hey," she huffs in passing, slowing from a patriotic blur long enough to shoot the wall-crawler an appreciative look.

"Hope you don't mind, but I'm gonna just--"

The Traveler practically vanishes beneath the Sentinel in a diving arc.

"-- BORROW some of this asshole--"

Her voice just manages to beat out the tortured squeal of metal forcefully separating from metal, her fingers digging through armored layers for purchase as she wrenches the machine's grimly visaged head from its neck.

"That thing," she says with a glance towards the column of destruction coursing from the heavens, "is still a problem. Be right back--"

And with that, America races skywards, following the beam upwards in a broad, spiraling orbit with sparking wires and a sprinkle of components behind her. Whatever's up there needs more than a fist - even hers - to make sure it's shut down HARD-- and FAST. Something big; something heavy.

Something ironic, like a red-hot Sentinel's head bursting through the atmosphere, hoping to meet its energy provider.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
Remy's pretty happy. His plan worked! Take that, you big dumb... robot... looking for.. aww. Nuts.

Robots don't fall for his cajun charms. Well, that one did, in a witty 'Get it, his explosion was his charm' way. But his puppy dog eyes aren't going to stop that laser if the robot notices him.

He draws a few slow, deep breaths, centering himself, and focusing his energy manipulation internally. Enhancing his reflexes, speed, coordination... and it turns out all those parkour races he kept losing bets on with everyone's favorite Dr. McCoy who doesn't tool around on the Enterprise pay off.

Sure, he can't beat Beast in a race, but that's like being upset if he couldn't outpunch the Hulk, or out-grumble Logan.

Sometimes you're just doomed to be second best.

Which is fine, as long as the robot doesn't get luckier than he is good. And hey, if it does... he's pretty sure he's not going to realize it until Saint Peter's giving him The Look. The 'What'd you think the big robot was going to do, Remy?' look.

He can see it now. Well, not exactly. But he's seen a lot of his friends give him a very similar look.

Frank Castle has posed:
He may court death on a daily basis, but even Frank isn't usually that blatantly suicidal. But luck intervenes on his behalf, at least for the moment...and to his own shock, Castle finds himself still alive and breathing.

Only to see the thing slice the gunship out of the air. "Goddamn," he says, almost under his breath. "We've got to get that shield down or we might as well be throwing popcorn at it."
Then he's heading back to the armory in time to hear Stadler's request. "I'll do it," he says. A beat, and he says, with a gallows grin, "Nothin' to lose."

Richard Stadler has posed:
Well. Shit.

Stadler remembers a day over a decade ago. Quinjets had been the saving grace, then, and today it felt an offer lot like the Thunderchilde: A saving grace, an exaltation of technology on their side, cheers as the rounds struck the robot... before it displayed technology they didn't have, and simply... moved. Went from one place, to the other, and there slashed through an AC-130 with directed energy. It wasn't a suprise, intellectually. Something like that in contested airspace was worse than a sitting duck, but it would demoralize if he let it. So don't. Focus. It wasn't in the middle of them right now. They had some breathing room , and they knew they were still a target.

"Another set! Smoke, illumination, at it's optics, or anything that looks like a sensor! Get me some smoke in front of us!" All right. Time to buy time. "Start moving- Thank you." He says, grabbing a radio that was finally handed to him. "All elements, start moving toward the Admin building. The men with anti-tank, you're with me!" He yelled, before turning to Barrett. "Captain, that-" He starts, but stops, and shakes his head. That was a talk for if the man happened to live past this. He was an officer. Bravery was a job for the people who weren't coordinating the damn thing. "That's fine. We're setting up in a house over at the river's edge. Get on frequency wun ate tree point tree fife." No sense in having the numbers lost in the sound of it. "Tell me when you've got a bead on it."

Alexander Pierce has posed:
[ https://youtu.be/MESDA96RrEI ]

Over the comms comes a blow for the United States of America <<"Lancelot has fallen, repeat Lancelot has fallen">> the secret service code name for Vice President Dondi Reese. The Vice President is dead.

Even as they drop one of the robots, Cass tossing one bomb to Belinda and the pair of them moving in. That robot did its job - a car not far away with its shimmering shields took a battering. Secret service are stumbling out and one has dragged out the body of Dondi Reese - but it's too late. His old heart could not take this assault.

The robot begins to disintegrates before their very eyes. The head melting away, the joints and torso following. It becomes a soup of bubbling acid and metals on the ground. One down.

The second doesn't have time to recover from Remy's exploding car knocking it in to a building. Not properly. It drops to its knees as Spider-Man literally cripples its ability to communicate to its internal servos. A beautiful arc of America Chavez launching the head ripped from that robot off in to space at the satellite ripping up the ground. Two down.

As Frank bravely decides that this is the line he has drawn and the robot shall come no further - it's torso turning as it blasts quinjets from the sky - suddenly it goes quiet. Very quiet. The beam ray stops. It stops moving. Its shield goes down.

The death toll was high. This was a serious attack on the United States. An attempt to sever the head of government from its people. To capture New York City and hold it hostage. But it has failed.. and in its wake there will be a memorial for the fallen.

Cassandra Cain has posed:
With the robot down, and people around being dead and/or dying, Cass doesn't call this a win. Bruce wouldn't. She doesn't. But she just moves from the victory location, to those who still need help. Wherever she can, because it's not a big fight.

It's not. That's the thing. It's not one big fight, win or lose. It's a million little fights. The kid in the car, panicking, still needs someone. Those in the drink below, who survived, might not much longer without help. Someone somewhere needs us.

She does the things, breaking people free where she can. Diving into the water where she has to. It's not America, throwing things through dimensions. It's not Remy or Richard, or Peter or Belinda.

And she hopes that it's enough. People showing up, the VP being dead? Yeah. That happens too. She's already out of medical tape and bandages.

Find more. Smile, wave to Remy and Belinda. Find more.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Silverdane spends a moment laying on her back, admiring the sky. So.... skylike. And blue.

Nerves jar into action and muscles protest briefly when she rumbles a breath, sitting upright. Long breath, exhaled-- wincing, grimacing at the chemical smile rising from the bubbling, melting machine. Even if nobody *else* can smell the pungent metallic reek!

"....did we win?" she manages to ask, exhaling a long breath. inhaling again. Smoke. Chemical fires. Cordite and screams and the coughs of all around. And sunlight, sea breeze, and the uncaring gaze of the sky.

A question for the ages. And now, things to do.

With a chuff of breath, she rises, moves, begins her search. Medical kits. First aid boxes. A forlorn glance at the (very) crushed-and-stepped on ruins of an ambulance. Hunt.

Peter Parker has posed:
The Spider has been in this body long enough to realize that this is not a win. Despite downing the robot, he knows that Spider-man would have been saddened by he loss of life. And blame himself.

And while he may not necessarily blame himself for what happened - he did, after all, defeat the robot - he has realized that it is not time to take a victory lap.

Spider-man hops back away from the robot as he sees it go down, and looks around for a moment. He shakes his head a bit at the destruction, because he feels like that is right, and then he fires a webline off to swing away before anyone can ask him any questions.

America Chavez has posed:
One robot's down, and - crucially - the others are too. Once America realizes that the plumes of smoke and fire jetting up around the city are at least partly the result of decimated Sentinels, she allows herself a moment to exhale-- to acknowledge the chorus of dull aches and fire arcing throughout her near-impervious body. Her eyes lid--

-- and then the moment passes.

The Sentinels are gone, but death still came to New York City; it still claimed an unacceptable toll, and threatens to claim ever more if things aren't put to right in time.

"Fucking Nazis--" the Traveler hisses beneath her breath, the curse scattering through booming air almost as soon as it's uttered. Without the imminent danger of crushing or disintegration, she can turn her attention towards hunting through rubble, directing emergency workers to MSG to see to the people holed up there, and above all else, trying to remember that being a hero means more than just speeding off in search of a villain to punch.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
Remy's made peace with his maker, or at least, he's ready to talk /real/ fast while trying to slip in the pearly gates... when suddenly there are _heroes_ around... were... they... always here? Like, they've got the costumes on and everything and they are kicking some Nazi robot ass.

Which means Remy can alter his trajectory to leap into the stricken building and begin doing the best search and rescue he can.

Which is to say, as he finds and patches up those he can, some poor paramedic is going to be asking people if a trained gorilla set their broken bones and bandaged lacerations.

Not that Remy will answer them. He's got an ear out for sirens. Once the ambulances are near, he's going to slip away. Find another bridge. A less /famous/ bridge.

Something he can hitch a ride over to start his journey up to Westchester.

Because his apartment in the city was a trash hole, and there's now ay a Nazi robot attack made it any better.

And there's no way anyone fixed up the lock on the boathouse at the manor, and it's not far enough into spring for anyone want to go boating on the lake. He can sleep in a rowboat.

Nazi robots never attack the rowboats.

Frank Castle has posed:
The thing's fallen silent and still. No guarantee it'll remain that way, though, so Frank wastes no time in hesitating. He's got the thing painted with the laser and calls it in, holding it long enough to be sure that whatever's aimed at it will hit. With its shield down, it can't last long, considering the sheer amount of firepower aimed at it.

Once it's down, he doesn't linger. Time to slip away before someone realizes that Captain Barrett is a figment of the DOD database's imagination...or notices the resemblance to a face on certain Wanted posters. He may not have managed to sneak off with what he was after, but he's survived unsinged and uncaught.

<<Did you have a good time, Frank? Because that sure looked like your kind of party.>> Micro inquires, tone mockingly solicitous.

"Get bent," he replies, as he starts the ignition on the stolen car he arrived in.

Richard Stadler has posed:
The quietness was jarring, honestly. At one moment, they were admist the white smoke of cover and the thick black of burning vehicles and buildings. Explosions rocked across the sky from downed Quinjets, and a small amount of troops were snaking to get a good protected vantage point and then... the energy from the sky fadded; the robot stopped moving, the shield... The shield went down. And part of Richard was thinking to leave it be. To not tempt fate. But the rest didn't want to see that Nazi robot standing proud like it was the goddamn Statue of Liberty. Besides, Leaving abandoned enemy armor on the field was poor form... and theen there was the lase on target.

"Ready up!" A beat. "Fire!" The guided rounds streaked out from the launchers; ten of them, at a close limit of their range, sliding forward, and slamming into the Sentineal itself. And... that had to be that. It didn't feel like victory. There wasn't an exlated shout, just reservist and someone who was feeling his years grateful to be alive... and aware of the task forward. The mess to clean up, the mass of damage and death around them.

There was nothing for it but to go on.

Alexander Pierce has posed:
Even as Belinda admires the blue skies - above Manhattan, sunlight seems to fade rapidly into a strange, pallid imitation of daylight and the air grows chilly. Shadows seem to blur into a thousand tiny points of darkness, and where shafts of sunlight dappled the ground those dapples crack into a thousand smaller motes.

The rip that opens up in the sky is silent, but it cannot be witnessed without the mind conjuring up the a cataclysmic sound. Suddenly, shockingly, a dark rent spreads across the sky and perspective /shifts/. To those seeing it, the tall skyscrapers of downtown Manhattan seem to warp and bend in supplication towards it, and a significant chunk of the sky is filled with a darkness so absolute that the darkest night would seem bright by comparison, so dark it almost hurts the eye. Ripples of dark energy like bolts of negative lightning spear silently across the sky.

Yet in the darkness, there is a sense of motion... within moments the ragged edges of the tear in space seem to draw slowly together, but before the hole in the sky draws shut, for just a few moments, a shape comes into view in the terrible darkness. An incalculably vast eye, pale as a ghost, it's gaze ancient and pitiless and cold stares down at the Earth with tangible hostility.

And then it's gone.

---

In the heat of the Amazon Rainforest the SHIELD team has gathered. <<"Go">> Phil whispers in to his wrist comms. Bobbi and Lance move as one when the charges go off on the bunker doors. In to the darkness they go as their ICERs begin to expertly drop the HYDRA technicians and security. More SHIELD agents pile in after them.

Right behind them are US military. General Talbot crouches down next to Phil and gives him a stern nod of approval. The SHIELD agents and combined military task force move in to the last strong hold of HYDRA. Their final stand is with but a few men and they enter the control room even as the HYDRA agents are trying to scuttle it.

May moves in to a side office and there she sees Alexander Pierce about to step on to a teleporter. "Yeah. I don't think so." she says and shoots him with an ICER. He has to pay for his crimes.