15004/The Raft: Powderkeg

The Raft: Powderkeg
Date of Scene:	26 May 2023
Location:	The Raft
Synopsis:	A serious of unfortunate events are turned into fortuitous ones. The prisoners of the Raft have had to endure a lot during their stay. Depriving them of their freedom being one worst. They've had to suffer through sleep deprivation, bad food, bizarre therapy, strange tests, mundane existence without their powers and precious things, not to mention some real jerks. Some of which may rear their ugly head later on. But through all their efforts, solo and together, they effect an escape. Small mercies given to others, altruistic or not, add up. Pay it forward for some, gaining a nemesis for others. Consequences coincide to create opportunities. Where there were none seemingly possible before, these individuals have made it happen. The ladies have ensured The Raft won't be fully operation again for months. Ripples radiate from the Raft with their departure.
Cast of Characters:	Mary McPherran, June Moone, Crystal Frost, Leslie Willis, Lisa molinari

---

Mary McPherran has posed:
The alarms have started. The nature of the Raft, corridors and compartments, means that those annoying sounds sometimes overlap, are muffled or delayed. The alloys and polymers that go into the depressing colour-coded hues of the structure aren't exactly wonderful on the accoustics. Where the separated Inmates have made opportunties out of mud pies, the klaxons try to make themselves heard. To those with sensitive sniffers, there is a scent of sea water.

This is not unlike practice drills, something similar to a bi-weekly event where the jailors test their systems and keep the Guards on their toes. This is like that, but recent events have obviously made this the real deal.

The interior lights switch to something best described as low-power mode. Hatches that would normally snap shut crisp and clean are curiously on slow rollers. Gravity-assisted failsafes to keep this place locked up are languid but inexorable in their movements. The system is going into lock-down mode, but it's geriatric. Something is wrong for the Security forces, and possible quite alright for everyone else.

Mary McPherran has posed:
"...Make it happen, hurry. Drop the lifts, Granny. Girl's night only. I'll take the other one if you don't..."

The voice is Mary's, and is coming from those same speakers as the alarms, but she has to compete with the klaxons. Her words are easier to decphier during the valleys between WOOP-WOOPs and HEW-HOO HEW-HOO's of the alarms. There's a shuddering, and a displacement of air, a pressure differential as the doors of most of the shafts through this wing of the prison are opened.

June Moone has posed:
In a room designed for external observation sits a single glass tank. The contents are an isotonic solution of saline with a brown haired woman laying just beneath the surface, hooked to a breathing mask. Her wrists an ankles are fastened to the sides of the tube with a thick black material fixed over her eyes, blocking out light as the solution she bathes in blocks out sound.

A man in a white coat observes the readings from the ECG machine fixed over her cranium giving off a constant reading of her brain activity so that he can adjust the sedative being administers. Enough to mute her sense of tactile sensation without properly sedating her. The intention to keep her completely isolated from any of her senses while not rendering her unconscious where the entity inside her may assume control.

This is how they keep June Moone.

This is where they've kept her for weeks.

Until tonight.

The sudden, shuddering blare of alarms and the flicker of power comes and the individual in the lab coat pauses in altering the sedative level for a fraction of a second to turn and look at his guards. It's barely the time it takes to blink. It's nothing... And yet it's an eternity.

The body in the tub twitches... skin becoming gray and taut.

Crystal Frost has posed:
Crystal made a promise. Well, she's made a few. She promised the twisted geneticist that she would be back for him and bring Hell with her. The sealed door at the end of the hall leading to the twisted lab opens slowly. Impatience and fury fuel her, and Crystal lays both hands on the door, sucking the heat out. Making it brittle and fragile. She punches the metal and it blasts to splinters that tinkle on the ground like glass.

She emerges into what will soon be absolute bedlam in a tattered jumpsuit and no suppression collar. "C'mon, ladies. We have some stuff to break."

Behind her follow two other women in similar states of disarray, but neither with collars either. She marches with purpose, heading towards the wing of cells so she can free her friends and, honestly, nearly everyone else. If only to cause Problems.

"I hope they're okay," she mutters to herself.

Leslie Willis has posed:
Leslie Willis is ready, waiting, prepared. Totally. Definitely. So when the alarms begin to blare, she manages to throw her pillow directly at the klaxon, and... grumble as it doesn't much care. But the doors are acting... wonky. And wonky is good. Well, not really, wonky can be bad. Wonky could be that some emergency portal to the Death Dimension or something has opened and they're all doomed.

But like, what if they're not? What if this is the big _thing_ that's supposed to be going down? Well then... like, time to... make hay while the sun shines or whatever.

Which is a very inaccurate saying for what Leslie's doing... with her cell door open, she can sneak out, creeping along, until she's about ten feet behind a guard. A guard with a walkie talkie and a taser. Awwww. Poor guard.

She _knew_ she was keeping up that little bit of charge she managed to syphon out of the prison for something important. Because she's not quite so juiced as to forget the plan. A plan which involves taser and walkie talkie sparking to life, tasing their owner before the electricity snaps through the air and into her fingertips, followed by a sharp hiss of breath.

"Awwwyeah, that's the stuff! No more corn flakes for breakfast for me!"

And then Leslie's positively sprinting towards the lift, only to punch the call button.

Not for the elevator. Like, she punch punches it. To break the plastic casing and reach in to tug and tear at delicate wires until the insulation frays and...

The wild cackling and sound of crackling electricity are probably fine.

Lisa molinari has posed:
Lisa has been a busy girl.

Following Crystal's advice from long ago, she'd done her best to be a 'good' prisoner for as long as she could. She legitimately tried. It didn't always work, but it still got her an opportunity to 'help' the 'staff'. It was fortuitous that the place where they needed her help the most? Was with her very own Coat. Her Coat that listens to her, and her alone.

Which is why she's gotten back into the sleeves of said Coat once again. Walking with confidence... and very armed. Weapons in four of six hands, a camcorder held in the fifth, and the sixth there for opening doors and the like.

Like Crystal, she, too, fully intends to free the rest of the group she walked in with and others; the majority she doesn't care if they escape. They're beautiful, artistic chaos. /Her/ group, though? They have to get out of this place, if it's the last thing they ever do.

"...and then I think it was a /left.../" she murmers, following her mental map as best she can.

Mary McPherran has posed:
Very worried Guards in various parts of the Raft attempt to fall back to sentry points, using bulkheads as partial cover. There is an absolute hailstorm of comms chatter making them crane their heads and slide to other frequencies. Their stun batons are out and their visors are fully locked into the down position. Their orders appear to be to fall back to a better floor. Unless an inmate appears. The sight of anyone in a corridor, not in their Cells illicits an immediate confrontation. No questions asked, night-night truncheons already powered and swinging.

A number Guards, teeth gritted, adrenaline coursing through their veins, attempt to stall Lisa's progress when she comes around a corner, thinking they've got a 3-to-1 advantage. Bellowing, "On your knees! Kiss the floor! Anyone have eyes on Rappaccini?"

Backup is even now hustling towards June Moone's location. That prisoner has a laundry list of conditions. With a spreading emergency alert, more than lab coats are at the door, readying their weapons and night-night sidearms.

Some not as brave souls leap directly into elevators that have sunk down-down-down. Particularly the ones currently running from Frost and her rescued companions after the hatch they were using as cover is destroyed. They frantically try to send a warning of powered un-suppressed prisoners. "Breach breach! Wyndham's Pen is compromised!" Perhaps the lift is meant for the girls, but when opportunity presents itself, these Guards are going to leap before they look. And try and hammer at the buttons. Quite a few Guards are trying to escape as well it seems, or a least relocate to more defensible floors.

Mary McPherran has posed:
Mary's voice raises in volume, as if she's speaking more directly into a microphone.

"If you can hear me..." Thud-thud-thud. Even through the auditory tug-of-war, there's strain in her tone. "Wherever you are...if you're still breathing. Get up and get mean. Go UP." There's a scream and something sounding like a giant zipper being pulled open under duress. Wet pops, twists of fabric and leather creaking.

"Whatever you gotta do to get higher up." There's a gurgle and sputtering, but not from her. The sound of a palm trying to friction-smear something wet from the surface of a monitor. "Spilled the pasta sauce, hard to make out what any of this crap means. They're chasing too many fires, missing people, trying to..." Her audio cuts out as energy weapons are unleashed too close to sensitive equipment. "...I..." The feedback screams like a banshee. "...make good on a promise. All roads lead to Rome. Don't stop for nuthin. This looks like our best chance. Hey! What in the hell are D.w.a.r.f.s? Hey, I didn't tell you to do nuthin else except open and lock out the shafts! C'mere!"

June Moone has posed:
The hand that slaps the edge of the tank is host to long, black nailed fingers. The bones of the wrist stand out against taut graying flesh as the being inside pulls itself up from the saline solution with popping, cracking twist of muscles and bone. Black hair pools across the surface, then begins to drape across the sallow of rising black eyes, until dingy, sickly green lips errupt from beneath the surface...

Her white clothes are tattered, baring only passing resemblance to what June had been wearing previously. With each bit of the body crawling, because it twists and climbs out of the tub onto all fours, that reveals the lights flicker... until there's nothing, but darkness in the room where they've been keeping the horrible ancient creature known as The Enchantress.

In that darkness is malice.

Until the door leading into her cell errupts outwards, smashing two guards against the wall by some unknown, overtly malicious force. Beyond the threshold is darkness... from which two hands reach out to grab the edges of the metallic door frame, pulling the being out of the inky shadow like a corpse dragging itself from a tarpit.

Wisely, they open fire.

Unfortunately, it only pisses herself.

THe Enchantress screams, grabs a guard by the throat, and throws him so hard at another that it breaks both of their backs. Hands extend, palms out, with fingers wiggling in an elaborate, series of jerky motions with the spidery sound of a whispered incantation. Bullets and Night Night darts hit against a magical barrier.

Behind which the Enchantress stalks.

Grinning from behind a curtain of sickly, wet black hair.

Leslie Willis has posed:
Leslie's inadvertently being /so/ helpful to her fellow inmates! Guards rushing into the lifts find them running even MORE slowly, lights flickering, dimming, button panels seemingly going dead, only to pop back to life and need the buttons pressed again.

At least except for one particular lift. One lift with a group of guards just like all the others. Except of course, they're familiar.

The lights on the ceiling burst into a shower of sparks, lighting in the small car shifting... from emanating from the ceiling, to emanating from... the pale, manically grinning woman standing against the back wall. "HEY! Guys!! Guess who accidentally touched a bare wire? I've got... just like... /way/ too much energy!"

She heaves out a melodramatic sigh, "But I'm /pretty/ sure one of those group meetings had a lesson about sharing being caring, so like... just remember... I'm just showing you how much I /care/!"

The Raft's elevators are probably soundproof enough that no one's going to be having any nightmares from the crackling and sizzling and suddenly choked off screams.

Crystal Frost has posed:
Crystal smiles as the guards scramble away from her. They're right to be afraid. It's warm up here. There's so much warmth for her to take. To use to punish. "Oh no. That's my ride, boys," she says, oozing sarcasm. A hand flings out, and ice blocks the lift doors from closing.

Only then does she jog. Not even sprint. It's a light jog. She bursts into the lift, kicking the ice away so that the door closes. "Thanks for waiting, gentlemen."

Moments later, the lift opens again as it empties back onto the main floor of the Raft. Crystal exits the elevator, two statues of ice left inside. The expressions on the faces are rictuses of terror and despair. Just as they should be.

She stalks through the chaos, hunting for the path up. Hoping she runs into at least one of her friends, one of the crew.

Lisa molinari has posed:
"Behold, dear viewers, as the puppets of the military-industrial complex try to turn our art piece into a snuff film." Lisa narrates as the guards appear, stopping her movement. Slowly she starts to lower her arms, and body...

...just long enough for her to dip the empty arm into her pocket and seize hold of the force field generator that sits inside of her coat. Pressing the button to activate the shield, and then sprinting forward. There might be three of them, but she has four swords; and with the forcefield in place to help her get close... and possibly bowl them over physicaly much like a bowling ball to pins. Should she successfully scatter her foes, the blades are going to work. Stabbing, but purposefully missing vital areas. She wants to incapacitate. She wants them to /feel/ the pain, and not be able to follow her... or stop whatever it is Monica has planning, either.

Mary's voice on the intercom is definitely heard, through, and she fully intends on following the advice once she realizes exactly who it is that's doing the talking. If /Titania/ says go up, that definitely means she needs to find a way to do exactly that. Find the nearest elevator, get in, and go /up./

Mary McPherran has posed:
"Fall back! Fall back to Ops! Fa-" The Guards able to still voice their panic have some tactical training. Initial attempts to push back in different sections are all routed back towards the central shaft. Those are aren't ended and only wounded are going to need therapy. They might be capable, but against powered individuals, they just don't have the edge. ~Everyone~ wants to get out now. Where fleeing Guards expect a lift full of backup to arrive and bolster, they're mostly met with empty platforms, malfunctioning lifes that suffer under Leslie's influence, or simply just shafts that yawn down to dark depths. Sometimes these are the last places they see before they're crumpled or spattered. Those Guards that don't shelter in place out of sight, find themselves ~in the way~ and dispatched. Their means of escape to that upper level not theirs to access anymore.

The elevator shaft up leads to that main junction room. A trio of these vertical corridors emptying out in a place that Killer Frost and her two rescued companions have accessed. A number of closed hatches are available, though there's a very wide one with bars of yellow and black hazard sigils. It's a big deal.

It develops a pimple ~BAM~. And then another ~WHAM~. It starts to buckle along the central seam and fingers appear in the ruined seal. Titania starts to heave to try and pry the Hulk-resistant stuff apart.

And Angry buzz heralds the cavalry arriving soon. All unfortunately in that room that the elevators rise up into.

D.W.A.R.F.s, spilling forth from ceiling hatches. Quad-propellor drones with glistening carapaces. Their bellies sliding open hatches to drop night-night guns to slide forward and lock into place. A flight of angry bumblebees that hum louder and louder after managing to deploy despite Mary's attempts. Non-sentient, they're not trigger happy, but they are quite generous in trying hose down anyone on the main floor of the Raft. The air is filled with the sounds of numerous pneumatic ~phootphoots~.

June Moone has posed:
The carnage of which Enchantress is capable is hard to measure. With the combination of incantation constructed shields to prevent small arms fire from doing more than shattering against the invisible barrier and the bolts of dark energy flashing out of her hands as she pursues her former captors is the stuff of nightmares. This place was no designed for someone like her, at least that's her thoughts whether it's true or not. She is a God and these are meer humans.

Barefoot feet leave wet prints behind her, marred by a swish of damp slim from the tattered white gown she's dragging behind her like a mop. Her movements are jerky, but surprisingly fluid and there's no distance they can stay ahead of her.

Every time the lights blink, the Enchantress is several steps closer.

Until the only sound is the whining of Klaxon alarms and the drip of water splattering on the metal floor.

Black eyes shift around, hand coming up and clinching... And she appears in the shadowy recesses of the red flickering alarm lights in the central corridor. Teleporting herself upwards... upwards... Until lift doors open on her twisted visage barely illuminated by the sparks of torn wiring, flashing red alarm lights, and an eerie glow from her black eyes.

Black eyes staring at Leslie and anyone else who had taken the lift with her.

Her lips peel back from dingy green teeth and she turns to begin stalking towards the direction of an exit. She's satisfied her desire for carnage and now she will make good her escape from this place.

Leslie Willis has posed:
Livewire practically /twirls/ out of her elevator, it's not entirely graceful, not smooth and easy... partly because she hasn't worn seven inch stiletto heels in /weeks/, and partly because she had to twirl over collapsed, unconscious guards. She hooks a toe under one arm, stumbles a little and spins about to give that particular guard several hard, fast kicks in the ribs. "HEY! I'M TRYING TO MAKE AN ENTRANCE, CARL! IT'S THE MOST IMPORTANT PART, /CARL/!!"

Her head cranes around, peering over her shoulder up at the descending drones, "OH GREAT! I MISSED THE CUE! YOU UNPROFESSIONAL MOTHERFU-" luckily, any inappropriate language is cut off by a crackle and then a rocking BOOM, as a shower of darts fly through the intense glowing figure of electricity that was Livewire, only for her to reform across the room in that thunder clap.

Those darts probably hit Carl and his buddies. They'll be fine.

Well, they won't be any worse off.

Thankfully, Leslie's so hopped up on electricity that she's not really /processing/ June. 'cause seriously. She scary.

No, Livewire's busy rising up on a bolt of lightning to leap at one of the hovering quadcopter drones to begin prying at an armored panel, "C'MON! GIMME YOUR BATTERY!! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO USE IT RIGHT!"

Crystal Frost has posed:
Much like her lightning fueled friend, Crystal is flush with power. Everything has at least a little heat, and the guards she's encountered so far. Well. It looks like someone's been dropping massive snocones. Just shattered chunks of ice left in her wake. They locked her in here. They took her powers away and tortured her. Her only regret about killing them is that it wasn't a slower process.

She'll just save that for the doctor.

Her expression lightens a bit as she sees and hears Leslie back to her old self. Something flickers across her expression as the Enchantress moves through like a force of nature. Like some kind of monster from ancient ti---wait. (Spoiler: It's an instant of stark, raving terror.)

The drones start to file in and open fire, and Crystal breaks into a run, sprinting to try and catch up with the living lightning. A hand flings out, hurling ice needles at the DWARFs as she joins Leslie. "Good to see you back in form, Les. To hell with this, we gotta go!"

Lisa molinari has posed:
Just keep swim--er-- moving. Keep searching. Lisa's travels finally take her into that wonderful central junction room, and; she's pretty grateful that she's still got the forcefield up, because the first greeting the brunette gets is those shots from the DWARVES pinging off of her shield, causing the red energy to manifest each time they strike.

"Watch how--" Lisa's interrupted as her eyes fully take on the sight in front of her. Killer Frost. Livewire. Titania. ... The Enchantress, very much being super freaky. But that super freakiness is most definitely on their side. "...girls! Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!" she greets; moving into the center of the room to try and serve as more of a distraction for the drones to take aim at while the others take them /down./ Because inside that forcefield, she might not be able to stab things through it, but those shots aren't strong enough to break her shield, either.

...and even if they were? That would just mean those bloodied blades will be going back to work.

Mary McPherran has posed:
The drones try to initiate a revolving ring while they fire off their payloads, the next descending drones working in an opposite direction. It's all intended to be quite orderly, like gears turning in places. Spitting out tranqs, their rounds passing through targets or hitting unintended ones, deflected and neutralized by arcane and elemental forces.

Leslie's leap and grabby hands is a bit of a wrench in the works of their harmony of movement, adding to the chaos. If electricity is something to nom, they're perfect little bundles of power for one that can get past their shielded covers. Protection against EMP is there, but not perfect. Resistent, not impervious to that or determined Leslie fingers. The Drones squawks and trills with nope-nope beeps and boops as it careens around out of control.

Shards of ice strike the D.w.a.r.f.s, piercing where they don't outright shred. Dropping quite a few of them reduces the chances for accidental richoettes and sleepytimes.

Mary manages to finally get enough leverage to pry one door like a flower petal, her muscles standing out with fierce definition. That's one hell of a strong hatch. There's enough room for a person to dive through if they're unencumbered. Through that gap is more ocean scent, air that hasn't been processed and reprocessed over and over. Fresh and free.

Mary grunts, prying her fingers from where they've embedded themselves in the metal from the efforts. She pushes her head through the gap and views the state of things. She needs a second. There's a lot to prcoess. If she focuses too long on any one of her companions, she'll stall, and that's not in the cards. She shouts through her opening, "We're sinking! There's something in the goddamn water rising up! We gotta gooooooo!"

June Moone has posed:
Anyone following the Enchantress on her path of carnage is doing so without her invitation. As the antient being hurls desks or, in more frightful instances, guards at anything that attempts to sway her from her decided path. While it is theorized she could teleport herself out of here, it is only capable of moving her short distances until she's free of whatever field the Raft has protecting individuals with that specific powerset from escaping (or entering, but who would want to COME here WILLINGLY?)

Nor does she seem particularly concerned with the eventuality of the complex sinking. Perhaps it experidates her extraction, throwing her hands forward with curling, black nailed, fingers. From her palms a blast of energy tears down a hallway, rending metal and warping it outward as she calls upon a source of power she acquired while INSIDE the Prison.

Until, with a grunt, she tears a chunk of metal from one of the walls and throws it down on the ground at her boney, bare feet. Dropping down atop it to rub her palm against the dull, nonreflective surface with the bone from one of her necklaces... scratching at the surface, scoring it, and cutting through the grey paint covering it until she can widdle the dusky hued grey surface into something even a little reflective.

If a guard gets too close... She snarls and turns on them, hoists them with invisible tendrils of magic and sends them flying backwards. If one of those drones tries to interrupt her work, she crushes it with that same Eldritch born power with a clenching fist... and resumes what she's working on. Murmuring whispery, sick sounding words with her head jerking to one side in repeated, rythmic spasms.

Leslie Willis has posed:
Livewire snarls and pries at the armored plating, torturing the poor droid like someone who's spent /way/ too much time arguing which droid is the best droid in Star Wars (It is Chopper. Chopper is the best droid.), right up until she halfway clues in... and just unloads a blast of lightning to fry the poor beep-booping mechanism's circuits and end its tortured existence.

Which is brilliant, because it's just in time for Mary's warning about water. "WATER?! OH SHIT! NU-UH! NO WAY! I DON'T /DO/ WATER!!"

Leslie vanishes in a bright flash, only to reform behind Mary and leap up to grab onto a shoulder and sling herself over it like the most demanding sack of potatoes, "Let's go! Away from the water! Goddamnit! I don't want to die in the water! Like, I'll short out, and... it's gonna... I mean... shit!"

One arm stays looped around Mary, while her other hand lifts up and she begins firing bolts of electricity off at drones, guards, light fixtures. Basically, if it ain't one of her Mean Girl gal pals? It's probably getting a little electricity. "I really thought we were gonna be on a spaceship! This is some /bullshit/!"

Crystal Frost has posed:
The squealing of metal makes Crystal look over, and she smiles. A real smile she hasn't made since she got in here. Titania rips open the door. Mary. Huge, strong, wonderful Mary. "Let's go, ladies!" Crystal spins back, hurling more ice at the drones, ducking tranq shots and being a nuisance in general.

The Enchantress will handle herself. Maybe she'll join up with them on the outside. Maybe she won't. That woman is a terrifying force of nature.

Leslie does the lightning leap thing, so Crystal darts over to Lisa, putting a hand on her shoulder. One of them, anyway. "Go on. I'll be the last out. ...Well, the Enchantress might be, but, uh, I think she might turn me inside out if I interrupt whatever she's doing.

Killer Frost, the Mom Friend, starts ushering Lisa towards the ripped apart door, making sure she gets out, holding the back of the line until her...team. Yes. Her team is clear.

Lisa molinari has posed:
The narration is put on hold as the situation changes somwhat. Analyzing the scenery for a moment. Leslie and Mary are working together to get out. Crystal is coming her way. The decision is made in an instant. She temporarily deactivates the force field, gets close, and turns her back.

"Nobody gets left behind. Just... grab onto my shoulders, and hold on."

Once Crystal's grabbed hold? The force field's going back on, and the Coat... extends, and lifts like a cape. Those watching close might notice that Lisa's not walking towards the exit anymore. She's /gliding/ and she's taking Crystal with her, and /this/ close she can extend her protection, at least.

Mary McPherran has posed:
Mary dashes over to the series of wrecked consoles that reside nearby, so close to that landing pad they were welcomed onto weeks ago. With Leslie as a passenger, and a lovely jolt of static on contact, she tries not to spill her as she double-checks on the countdown of digits spazzing like a software bug in random locations on the screen. "We don't have much longer. They're gonna sink the whole thing, seal it, and wait for the cleaners! This goddamn code better have been worth the price. Shit! C'mon!" She races outside to peer over the edge as the Raft begins to sink.

Outside, the Raft's weapons systems are caught in a loop. The fearsome array of weapons meant to guard the exterior are lifting as if in salute, and suffer a dipping down as power cycles off. They repeat this, but each time, they are active for a little longer. Able to almost acquire targets, and lock onto inmates trying to escape. One could surmise it won't be long until the glitch introduced can't stop them for much longer.

There is in fact some manner of submersible within spitting distance of the Raft. It's not got S.H.I.E.L.D. markings, or bearing the symbol of any peace keeping or security force. A sub the colour of ocean kelp, old honeycomb markings having been scraped off. Looking like a cross between Nemo's famous craft, and an engineer without anyone to answer to. It is over 40 feet long, and a hatch atop it flips. The silhouette of a woman with glasses, her expression tense, is there for a moment before ducking down into the submersible. Her voice echoes out, "Patrons of the Arts welllllcome! Limited time only!"

"Who the hell is this now? Oh fuck it!" Mary blurts, and then grabs ahold of Leslie quite tightly and backs up from the edge, counting her steps, measuring. "Les! We're doing it! We can do it! Get ready for some bullshit!" And she ~charges~ off the edge with a powered leap towards the Sub. Wow, look at all that water and that thin strip of submarine to land atop. Wheeee!

June Moone has posed:
Alarms.

Flashing red lights.

The screams of injured soldiers and prisoners alike.

And Enchantress scraps constantly at the surface of the torn sheet of wall panel. Carving until the pant is flaked and the surface beneath shimmers metalic each time there's a bright flash of light. Her palm splashes into water beside her, beginning to rise against her knees, and drips it across the surface from a little gap in the fist she's tracing in a pattern above her work.

That silvery surface ripples.

Mercury in the form of an arcane symbol into which the Enchantress grins her dark grin. With a final glance around herself, she falls forward into the mercury, gripping the edge and dropping forward in a rolling flip out of the mirror inside the submarine.

Landing in a crouch, black eyes shifting side to side...

Until her back cracks, arching violently, painfully, and she topples over to begin a series of anguished, terrifying spasms.. until an uncnscious June Moone lays half naked on the floor of their escape vessel.

Leslie Willis has posed:
Livewire's hanging on, eyes darting around with manic glee, just firing off bolts of lighting, launching chaos and energy all about. Partly because she's all high on juice, and partly because the more she launches now, the more likely if she gets dunked in the water she'll be less likely to kill them all.

"Oh man, this is like... this /sucks/! I... yeah, we... we can /totally/ do it! This is gonna be so easy, I'm..." She huffs deep, desperate breaths, like she's expecting Titania is about to /hurl/ her at the submarine.

"OHSHIIIIII-!!!" Leslie just clings tighter, like a goddamn cat being... well, around a bunch of water. But more sparky. "YEAHH! IT'S ABOUT FAMILY, BITCHES!! WE'RE STEALING YOUR SUBMARINE!! LIKE THAT MOVIE!"

Crystal Frost has posed:
Crystal is a pragmatic woman. When you're offered a lift with no strings attached, you take it. You pay it forward, but you take it. Luckily for Lisa, Crystal is not by any means heavy. She clambers aboard and is carted out.

She does throw her hand behind her a few times, fingers splayed wide and shotgunning ice needles back at the drones. As they breech the outside, she starts to laugh as she watches Mary leap onto a submarine. "We're stealing a submarine. This is the best day of my life."

She's still going to let Lisa cart her over there, though.

As they breech the outside, she twists a bit more, hurling ice at the wrenched open door. It builds up quickly, going from nothing to a foot thick in no time, blocking the way. Sealing the door.

Letting them go.

Lisa molinari has posed:
Not that even if Crystal /was/ heavy it would be a huge problem. The Coat's doing the lifting. Lisa herself? Is more dangling than anything else, very much along for the ride here, herself.

That voice that is most definitely familiar for /Lisa/ is a very welcome one. "If that isn't one hell of a Patreon supporter right there..." she tells herself, flashing a manic smile across her lips. "Doctor!" she greets enthusiastically.

Mary /leaps/ over to the submarine. Lisa /soars,/ very easily sailing through the air to traverse the distance to the vehicle. There's a shift in weight once her feet touch down again -- this is her taking over for the Coat. Right now? She feels very much home-free.

"It's time to make a beautiful exit, ladies. Wave goodbye to our hosts~"