2115/Blood and Neon

Blood and Neon
Date of Scene:	15 June 2020
Location:	Trainyard
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Cecily Winters, Achilles, Naria Shepard, Sara Pezzini

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Cecily Winters has posed:
    Another incident, another call for help. A flash on social media and someone gets the word out. There's another shadowy assault on some semi-underground mutant party, several dozen partygoers silenced and missing. Unknown, unregistered, adolescent metahumans and otherwise having slipped through the cracks and unnoticed except by few others. Off into the night armored carriers ferry their living prizes to parts unknown. A surveillance camera and an eye in the sky track and mark one vehicle, a stroke of pure fortune or good timing.

    "Yes, just like last month," comes an exasperated voice on the radio over the sound of a car engine. "No, unknown amount of adversaries, and unknown quantity of abductees... look, we have a lead, we have a location. We need officers, medical teams, and crisis counselors as soon as possible... Yes, no, yes, we'll handle it just fucking hurry!" There's a growl from the woman before she cuts the line and then a roar of the engine, a grey SUV hauling ass down an empty street well past midnight on a weekday. The driver is a professionally dressed woman with fox ears and matching tails, while situated with her is a neon-haired woman, both of them out looking for at least some reckoning of a personal attack not one month prior.

    The GPS tracker on Cecily's phone will lead anyone following to a disused chunk of trainyard, the aboveground freight lines and underground passenger lines long abandoned for better routing and updated construction. That grey SUV skids to a halt in front of a tall fence and a massive gate. Razor wire lines the top edge of both, the gate itself reinforced metal bars and some heavy chain with a padlock that could probably take a bullet. "...hells take these bastards, we'd better not be too late..."

Achilles has posed:
    Thirty minutes ago:
    Sara Pezzini left the precinct and was on her way home. She was looking forward to a hot shower and a nice quiet night away from police work. I mean come on, a homicide detective has long days in New York. But she got onto her motorcycle and her phone chirped with a text. It read - From: Angelo. Test: parked across the street. Can I treat you to a meal?
    And so the two of them were in Angelo's car and heading to grab a bite at a new place he heard about and wanted to try.
    One other note, Angelo was on his way home from a day at the Triskelion, and figured... why not eat first? So, both had come from duty shifts and still had their 'gear' handy. HANDY!
    So a few minutes before now, Sara's radio squawked with an APB at the same time that Angelo got a text from SHIELD. Both of them were closest the responders, so Angelo figured.. 'dinner can wait'.
    So now, the simple sedan he drives pulls in..... granted, not the safest of speeds for driving or parking. But the car stops and even as he steps out of the driver's door, the trunk opens. "Want a vest?" he asks as he heads around back and indicates the fact that he keeps -three- vests on hand in his trunk. One even sized for Sara's build. What? He has a female training officer, so keeps one on hand just in case.

Naria Shepard has posed:
This time they were on the offencive, and that suited Rave just fine. The assault on her show had been...traumatic, it had shaken the otherwise ever-joyful neon 'Bluenette' quite badly, the first time she'd felt both completely overwhelmed and targeted, and people who came to her show had been snatched up by the monsters. Bruises had healed, guilt however lingers and ache far more. With her hair tied back behind her head still clearly luminescent, Rave wasn't exactly one that screamed stealth. Resting in the passenger seat, the car ride had been painfully slow for a speedster, but it also didn't come with glowing lights and neon streaks to give the game away.

Nerves were a funny thing, Rave herself was currently checking the vanity mirror and fixing her blueberry lip-gloss as she waited for the car to come to a rest, her form currently wrapped in a plain and obscuring oversized hoodie trying to hide her identity at least somewhat.

The gate could probably take a bullet, but a laser? Well, the woman steps out of the car fingertips already dancing with stored energy.

"Well, anyone looking out the window was going to see us anyway, right?" she questions, only to blink over her shoulder as another vehicle pulled in behind them. "Oh huh, backup?"

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara has her own vest and doesn't even stop more than a second to squint at Angelo having a vest her size. Vest and WK45 in one holster and her backup gun at her ankle besides a more formidable weapon that sleeps quiescent on her wrist.

As she suits up, she peppers Angelo with questions, "What do you know about this Angelo? What is SHIELD not telling NYPD?" The question is asked matter-of-factly. Sara expects the police to be out of the loop on certain things, "This isn't a drug bust or a rave gone bad. What are you expecting?"

Achilles has posed:
    "Nothing. This is the first I've heard of this too. So if they're not telling you, they're not telling me either." offers Angelo as he shrugs. He reaches in and picks up three extra magazines for his own weapon. A SHIELD issue ICER. If he needs lethal force, he has other ways of arranging that. His own vest is unmarked, and he removes his own leather jacket before strapping the vest on over his polo shirt.
    Then he shuts the trunk and steps away even as he doublechecks his holstered weapon and slips his magazines into what amounts to snug fit beltloop / pouch combinations on the vest's side and back. There's a reason he grabbed three.. that's how many the vest holds. Why the vest? Well, not dying is cool, but getting shot still stings. That, and he'd rather not advertise.
    Plus, he can always summon the Hephaestus forged armor and gear if it gets truly desperate.
    But, he lets Sara take point on meeting with other first responders here. After all, her vest likely advertises her as NYPD. His is blank black kevlar and such.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    As the car pulls up, Cecily is at the back of the SUV, doors open, arming up. Her ears lift and her tails flick as she looks over her shoulder, in the process of securing a vest of her own. "This is going to be my third scrap with these fiends, and your second... be ready for anything," she calls out to Rave, nodding for her to go ahead and blow the lock on the gate. She's gearing up for something heavy. There's a compact sniper rifle she's assembling with the deft skill of someone who's done it countless times before with some level of superhuman speed, to say nothing of a hip holster over her skirt and the MP7 hanging at her side on its strap.

    And when she's done strapping up, she slams the back doors of the SUV good and hard, tails waving in a manner that would indicate stress. "Welcome to the party, friends. Want a brief on the run or do we need a moment for coffee talk?" she asks, her words and expression terse. Still, despite her agitation, she's professional about it, and something in her posture shows that she's glad to have backup, knowing that it might be some time before the requested units arrive.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Here is where the police show themselves to be jerks, or they will when they show up in force. Sara is already half out of the strait-laced, by the book world of her father because she works, sleeps and breaths with something she has been slow to admit to herself is magic - a very old magic. She doesn't balk at Cecily's tail or the arms she carries, she will leave that to the police when they get here or so she tells herself.

"Brief us. You sound like you know what we are likely up against? I'm Pezzini of NYPD homicide, for you information and this is Angelo Tampambulos of SHIELD."

Naria Shepard has posed:
Rave was about the only one here not carrying a gun, not wearing bodyarmor. Were it not for Cecily's tails? She might well be the only obvious metahuman in the gathering. Pulling the hood from her head, the young woman's hand comes up a bright flash of light fills the air as the streak of intense laser-light blasts into the lock, shearing through the metal of both lock and gate entirely. She'd never hit a living thing with that kind of 'juice', but there's a little exhale of satisfaction as the bolt severs metal and she turns around in time for the others to make their approach, stuffing her hands into the front pocket of the 'disposable disguise' hoodie and tilting her head.

"Oh huh, actual cops?" she muses aloud before turning her head to Cecily. The woman was the professional, she'd let the fox give the talk.

Achilles has posed:
    Nodding his head to support Sara's statement, Angelo glances at Cecily's tails and lifts both brows. But he doesn't say a word. But then the laser shears away at the lock, and he turns his head towards Rave. But he is listening for now. He's figured out that you learn more when you don't interrupt with questions the person might be about to answer anyway.
    He just draws his own weapon, which looks for all the world like a standard semi-auto sidearm.... and makes sure it is aimed away from anyone and everyone... gesturing for the others to go ahead of him so he can bring up the rear.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    "NYPD and SHIELD? Someone must've taken me seriously..." Cecily says, looking genuinely surprised. If only she knew they sort of arrived by 'accident' or Lady Luck was shining on someone. "Walk and talk," her ears flick and twitch at the sound of Rave's laser bolt and the subsequent -chunk- of chain hitting broken concrete. The terrain isn't quite dirt road, but it's degenerated cement at best. "Give my best regards to Captain Stacy if you see him," Cecily nods over her shoulder to Sara.

    "Cecily Winters, security consultant," she introduces, and starts to move. She finishes cycling the bolt in her rifle and slams the first round home.

    "I have very few facts, so this brief will be brief. Someone--or something--is using well-equipped super soldiers to abduct people. We think they're specifically targetting young metahumans--mutants--exclusively..." she grunts, giving the gate a good kick, the metal creaking as it swings on sea-rusted hinges. "I have been on the unfortunate receiving end of their tender caress twice now. They're armed, almost exclusively with non-lethal weapons designed to incapacitate, are armored like our boys in the riot division, and what little I was cleared when it comes to autopsies, they're cybernetically enhanced meat puppets..." she sounds disgusted at the last statement.

    "...they hit another gathering earlier tonight, one of Rave's friends must've gotten the word out, or we've got a guardian angel, after the last incident... so we're here to see if we can't rescue some kids and see how deep this rabbit hole of disturbing trafficking goes..." she gives Sara a sympathetic look, "Not exactly homicide division but I'm grateful for your assistance. Any questions?" she asks, holding her rifle by the barrel, the butt of it pressed in against her hip as it points skyward. It's eerily quiet, the breeze sending wisps of fog past the faintly greenish fluorescents that flicker above on weathered wooden poles.

Achilles has posed:
    "Just one." Says Angelo in his barely there English accent. "My weapon's not going to have much effect if they are heavily armored. I didn't bring heavy artillery but.." He gestures to Cecily's hip and says, "If you have your rifle, think I might be able to borrow that four point seven millimeter subgun there? Those rounds will punch through armor my nine will just pancake against."
    "As for super soldiers, I think I Can handle them if I Can get past their armor. Might need something a bit more old school for that too if the mag runs dry."
    But either way, he is moving to keep up. "I might inquire what a security consultant is doing on the attack. Also... Winters?" he asks, "Huh. I think I saw your name come over my desk. Not SHIELD. Myrmidon Personal Security. Long story. Either way, good to meet you face to face."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
The neon bolt, she'll be the first one to admit it, made Sara step back in surprise, more than a tail gesturing gracefully to underscore words. "Yep, an actual cop that almost wishes she wasn't here because if you don't have permits then I'm supposed to be stopping you," she sighs, after dropping that tidbit.

Frowning hard, she unholsters her gun, "How many were in the other raid, Winters? What kind of super soldiers?" Glancing at Angelo, "Does SHIELD have word of augmented soldiers?"

Naria Shepard has posed:
"I'm Rave by the way," Introduction off-hand, but she'd been referenced enough that the young meta and rookie 'Superheroine' thought to speak up. Between all the cop speak, weapon discussion and such? The speedster just sort of shifted nervously on her feet, waiting for the signal or instruction of what to do next. "They're well equiped, and there's a lot of them. They're obviously used to fighting metahumans and mutants, even if some of us are harder than others."

A glance towards the now-open gate, the girl stops talking, tugging the hood down and shaking loose her luminescent locks. She doubted this was going to stay quiet for long after all!

Cecily Winters has posed:
    There's a shrug at Angelo and the fox unslings her MP7, hanging it on its strap as she offers it to the man. "All yours. 40-round extended. Lethal," she states, then pulls three more magazines out of the pouches on her gun belt. Two have bright red tape on them, one has dark blue. "Red means dead, blue is for riots, take care you don't mix them up, please," she implores him with genuine concern, then gives Sara a sidelong glance. "Kids first, paperwork after, I'm used to getting shaken down for the armory," she says with a lopsided smile.

    Then it goes serious, "Maybe six to eight in the last one? Three when I was assaulted on my own. Two plus a trojan horse, technically," she mutters. The inquiry as to why she's out and about earns a moment of thought, and she nods to Rave. "I'm her personal.... assistant..." Bodyguard. "...they hit one of her concerts and took a chunk of her audience to gods know where..."

    With that she begins walking at a brisk pace towards the darkened buildings ahead, using her free hand to clasp a reassuring hand on Rave's shoulder to try and placate some of that nervous energy. "I don't have the most details on these things, I just know they bleed blue and don't talk. Some kind of chemical soup."

Achilles has posed:
    "Who doesn't have augmented soldiers?" asks Angelo in a sarcastic tone. "I swear, it's like every street gang these days is trying to find some super power McGuffin." he states as he takes the MP-7 and tucks the magazines in his trouser pockets. "Thanks." he tells Cecily as he examines the weapon and then flips the fire selector to single shot. Oh, and holster's his ICER.
    "But lead on. I'm sure that I will inquire about this bollux when I Get back to the office." he says with a shrug. But at the mention of Trojan Horse, he smirks. His old friend was such a clever and wily General.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"Hey Rave. You've got some nice moves," the detective nods, to her as they walk quickly towards their goal. She turns to give Angelo a silent questioning look and a one-shouldered shrug. The words Trojan Horse draws a small tight smile from her.

"Mother of god," Sara mutters to herself at hearing they bleed blue. The Witchblade would come or not come; it came at its own volition. She would go in with her gun drawn expecting the worst.

Naria Shepard has posed:
It took a little restraint, or at least a little more than Rave would like to admit, not to go racing ahead blasting. Still, eyes and locks both aglow, the young woman's fingers clench and unclench as she gestures with her head for the others to lead and then falls into step behind. "I'm fast," she offers softly, after all her abilities were unknown to Angelo and Sara both, "But I'm not superstrong or anything. I can't really go carrying anyone out over my shoulder that a normal person couldn't so...we're going to have to make sure they can get out on their own, or there's no 'Bad Guys' or 'BlueBloods' or whatever left to stop them."

Cecily Winters has posed:
    "A shitty neural implant and some power gloves and anyone can make an augmented soldier these days... it's a pain figuring out who's who and who controls what... but we've at least got these people dialed in..." she grunts, "...to a point..." there's a sigh. She'd failed, somewhat, last time, and it weighs heavily on her. A sympathetic glance towards Rave is given, too, the younger girl's words echoing the sentiment she's feeling. Cecily's tails flick and her ears stay lifted, trying to find sounds that seem out of place for the trainyard.

    The buildings the group are approaching look like maintenance workshops for train cars. Heavy rollup doors with rails beneath them, solid concrete that's survived the elements. Everything's dark, and nothing seems terribly out of place except for what looks to be some brand new knobs and deadbolts on one of the side doors to a particular workshop.

Achilles has posed:
    "Well, odds are they know we're here. If they don't know our precise numbers. If we split up, we might be able to have a lead group draw their attention while a secondary group forms our tactical reserve." suggests Angelo.
    He shrugs and adds, "I volunteer for the bait battalion." he adds with a lopsided smile. "That means I am going to trust you guys to save my backside should we drop into the pot." A pause and he adds, "Maybe all three of you hang back and let me go play beater?" he adds before turning and heading further into the area.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"Beater or Trojan Horse?" Sara knows how capable he is and how impervious to wounds. "Stay safe. If the others are good with it, we'll come in and save your Greek behind. You owe me dinner, right?"

Nodding to Rave and Cecily, "You good with that? Do you know a way around for us to come in from behind? Or do we just surprise them with a second wave?"

Naria Shepard has posed:
"I'm kinda....flashy," Rave speaks, gesturing to herself with hands that pulse with bright laser light. "If I go in there, they're going to see me, so I probably work as bait too." It was logical, or maybe Rave was just hoping for an excuse for a little payback, either way there's a glance towards Cecily and Sara then back towards Angelo. "I can go, or at least go with you. Just...try and keep up?"

Levity before danger, this was the best the girl who was dressed like some casual afternoon was intended rather than an assault on enhanced soldiers. "Just say the word."

Cecily Winters has posed:
    "Unless we want to hack our way through the rollup door or crawl in through a skylight, we might have to do the second wave thing... this is the only building that's got barred ground level windows and new locks..." Cecily nods to the door, then glances between her companions, brow quirking at Angelo. "One could argue not to split the party but if you feel confident enough to forge on ahead and trust us to watch your ass, then I'm fine with it."

    She looks at the surroundings and the buttoned up workshop, sighing as she regards her rifle with a frown. "...I might have to pull the scope and go with irons if we're indoors anyway..." Still, the vixen shrugs, and she nods to Rave and Angelo. "Two in, two out?" she asks, starting to work the clamps holding the scope on the weapon's frame.

Achilles has posed:
    "Well, I had initially thought to forge ahead alone with all three of you as backup. But.." Angelo shrugs. "I -could- explain that as a member of SHIELD, I have the authority to pull rank." And he pauses just a beat before adding, "I mean I'm not going to do that. I like to think that I'm not such a drab chap. Either way, if you want to come with, feel free." He smirks to Rave and adds, "Just keep up, okay?"
    And then he turns and is trotting off towards the entrance to just go on in. Yep, kick the door and see what's going on. That's the plan.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara bites the inside of her cheek hard enough that it will hurt tomorrow and sting when she eats. She's already lost a partner in something just as hare brained as this idea. Nodding and exhaling audibly through her nose, she says with resignation, "Stay alive. Don't die. I don't want to clean up after you." Tough girl talk to cover up how much she hates this.

"I'm with you, ladies. Say the word."

Naria Shepard has posed:
Kick the door? Rave can roll with that plan, although Angelo's parroting back her comment earns a poking out of her tongue before she pulls the hoodie over her head and discards it aside. No body armor, just a tank top, more skin to absorb light. Stretching her arms over like she were about to go for a simple workout, the 'bluenette' speedster steps up behind Angelo with one last glance towards Cecily and Sara. This was going to be one heck of a breaching team!

"Two seconds," she offers the man, "you've got two seconds to get out of the doorway before I come running in behind you -really- fast." With that instruction shared, she waits for the impact and clenches her fingers that pulse with neon laser-light. On your marks, get set...

Cecily Winters has posed:
    "Two and two, then," Cecily says, confident that she can work back-to-back with the cop, and that Angelo can keep Rave in one piece and vice-versa. "Nobody's alone," she says, eyes moving over Sara, to reasure her. She's heard such sentiments before. Tough talk as a coping mechanism. Words she's said before herself. And then off Angelo goes, all six foot two of Greek hero, to put boot to steel and break a lock SWAT style. Well. It's effective. The door slams open and rattles on its hinges, bolts clanging on concrete.

    Inside? It's quiet. There's a couple of dim worklights and a vehicle of some sort haphazrdly covered by a tarp. It's huge, though, and it's haphazardly covered because the tarp is just too small for it. Anyone versed in armored vehicles will recognize it as a variety of MRAP--Mine-resistant ambush protected--vehicle. An armored APC with six wheels. A Caiman, painted in matte black, likely coated in some kind of sensor-dampening material as well. Easy to tell how it's been hard to track these things, even as ungraceful and bulky as they are.

    Then there's a sound, metal creaking, bending, snapping. Angelo will find, coming from above, a... surprisingly humanoid figure. A far cry from the armored chonkers that Cecily had been describing. A muscular teen with glowing silver eyes has ripped a part of the steel rafters off and is coming down on the Greek with an overhead swing aimed for his noggin, a howl sounding out that's a mix between rage and agony. She's clad in a bodysuit of some kind, sleek and black.

    Before Rave can finish counting down, there's a sound like glass sliding on glass. Another humanoid of student age in a bodysuit of similar design skates at superhuman speed along one of the rails in the yard, eyes glowing blue. He's charging at Cecily, thick pads of ice formed on his hands and feet. The vixen, of course, brings her rifle up to aim and fire at the immediate oncoming threat. Before her fingers can tug the trigger, though, her eyes widen and she dives to the ground, avoiding the punch aimed for her gut--and very deliberately not taking the shot.

    "Hold fire! HOLD FIRE! They--unh!" her firm cries to wait are cut off with a squeal as a line of... quills stitch into the front of her vest and spark as they dig into the metal wall just behind her. What looked like a shrubbery shifts into a third person, covered in a cloak and the crouching mutant has not hair, but hedgehog-like spines and bright green eyes.

    As for Cecily's cry? Rave might know immediately why she halted. These young metas were at her concert.

Achilles has posed:
    Yeah. So on point, Angelo has the MP-7 up and ready. The first of the forty round mag ready to roll. 4.7mm x 30mm, longer than normal subgun rounds and more narrow. Icepick rounds. HE asked for the thing because they have a tendency to pierce armor that larger heavier rounds just flatten against.
    But he also has a soldier's instincts. As the targets appeared, he already had the weapon up and was tracking. But he was not engaging. Either he has balls of steel as he just stands there waiting to get attacked... or he's just too stupid to know better. Either way, he wanted to make sure he was fully engaged before taking further action.
    Thus, when Cecily calls out, the gun is lowered instantly, and in fact dropped to the ground as he does a speed draw of his ICER while at the same time activating the bracer on his left wrist.
    The end result... a large and functional shield appears on his arm. A shield made from bronze... but not just any bronze, Celestial Bronze. What? Hephaestus forged the thing. So it is shiny and flawless. And it even has a groove on either side with just enough room for a spear.. or a handgun to be aimed through. But he is falling back and lifting the ICER pistol... not having enough time to retrack and fire yet.

Naria Shepard has posed:
Oh. Oh crap.

Rave had been ready for a fight, ready to kick the door down and beat the crap out of some very deserving augmented soldiers. There's a problem with that immediately, when she's looking at familier faces of mutant party-goers.

Cecily was hit, they couldn't hit back at their attackers, at least not without risking some serious collateral damage.

"Something's wrong with them!" she calls out, zipping forwards and bringing her hands upwards. There was a flash, but no laser-bolt as it detonates into a concussive wave. As close to a 'beanbag round' as she can manage.

She might be stating the obvious, but it was the best she could manage as the world around her moves in slow motion. Why the hell were her fans acting like brainwashed psychos?

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Last through the door and the whole plan has gone sideways when they are not met by crazed mutant neo-Nazi's but teenagers. Not any teenagers from the hold down that Cecily shouted out as she was attacked: friends that turned on them. Sara swivels the gun between the three targets threatening each of them in turn.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    The muscular woman is at the mercy of gravity as she comes down on Angelo. Shield or not, whatever force is driving her is committing her to her assault. The heavy metal support beam slams down, aided by her descent, the force of her overhead swing, and just the weight of the makeshift club in general. The sound of metal-on-metal clangs out at an almost deafening volume in the confines of the spacious workshop.

    Outside, Cecily is scrambling to get in a better position. The quills look long and sharp enough to have pierced through the vest, and into the flesh beyond, judging by the pained expression she shows. The frosty speed-skater, in the meanwhile, slides back around in a surprisingly graceful circle back to the door, intending not to miss a second attempt at an icy punch. Cecily struggles with her rifle for a moment, pain turning to numbness, dropping the magazine out and cycling the bolt to eject the live bullet. Even as she does this, she digs her heels into the dusty ground and braces her back against the wall behind her so she can drag herself to her feet.

    Rave's choice of opponent, however, ends up worse off. Before he can get off another burst of quills at anyone, the neon speedster's concussive bolt knocks the wind out of him, sending him doubling over. His hands clutch at his midsection as he wheezes with... surprisingly unnatural sounds, the glow in his eyes pulsing.

    Sara herself, in the doorway, will have her clear pick of targets, as the trio of mutants are engaged or engaging. All of them wearing similar bodysuits, all of them with glowing eyes. Everything about them likely screaming 'wrong' to the trained eye of a detective.

Achilles has posed:
    Fighting superhuman enemies sucks. It really does. Even knowing he was going into an ambush, Angelo was caught off guard. His shield lifted to interpose between his head and the enemy's attack, but the movement was just a hair slow. The shield was struck off center which with the superhuman strength of the attacker, it would have torn the arm right off out of the shoulder of a lesser warrior. And by lesser I don't mean less skilled. I mean human. Angelo's durability lets him survive the blow without losing his arm. But it -does- damage his elbow and shoulder on that arm... and his left arm is flung away from his body as he goes sliding along the floor on his back.. the ICER sliding away separate from him.
    Unarmed, his left arm partially disabled for the moment, he is down and vulnerable. Well, not in a durability sense. He doesn't want to kill this child. This teen. And he is levering himself up as the big teen girl charges his way fully intending a Happy Gilmore style hockey / golf swing with that iron bar of hers. "Ow." he mutters as he looks over and sees it coming.
    He rolls out of the way once, and as he does so, he rolls on the bad shoulder and grunts in pain, slowing down just a little bit.
    The backswing is going to catch him....

Sara Pezzini has posed:
It takes longer to describe Sara's decisions as darts explode into Cecily, and a hulking young woman descends from on high in a killer strike than they take. Her limbic brain tells her that he should be dead; it also fires the HK45 repeatedly at the young woman. In that split second, another part of her wails against taking a life. She aims to debilitate, targeting knees and arms. The Witchblade snaps to life; later she'll ask herself why.

The gauntlet unfolds, plates growing from the bracelet in organic motion that solidifies into clawed metal. Three steps take her to Angelo's attacker, and the Witchblade catches the metal bar meant to pulverize him. Sara finds herself nearly nose to nose with his attacker.

Naria Shepard has posed:
That was...spooky. There was no two ways about it. In a world almost in slow-motion, the reveal and 'swell' of the Witchblade unfolding paired with the spead Sara crossed the space had even Rave offering a soft 'Whoa' of amazement, even if the noise was lost in the streak of movement and faint trail of neon light left in her wake. That blow looked rough, but Angelo was still moving and the rookie heroine had her own threat to deal with.

Of course, Rave couldn't exactly run up and punch the guy covered in spikes, but she didn't really want to keep blasting him with hammer-blow shots either. Zipping forward in a charge, the glowing girl suddenly dips low and slides like a soccer player, aiming for a sliding 'trip' and hoping those quills don't come through the suit all too easily.

"What do we do?"

Cecily Winters has posed:
    The Heavy seems to be wearing a sneer on her face, the slam of the shield on Angelo giving the suited girl ample opportunity for a debilitating follow-up attack. Her muscles seem to pulse and she brings the steel beam up again, fully prepared to slam it down into him in a brutal display of overwhelming strength. And then the gunshots ring out. The bodysuit is somewhat armored, but the range and precision do more than batter and bruise. There's a cry of pain from the girl, then another, one or two of the bullets piercing through and drawing spatters and drips of blood.

     Arms weakened further, the beam comes down with more weight than muscle strength, impacting the Witchblade with another loud clang. The look on the girl's face so close to Sara's though, isn't one of rage and agony. There's a clarity there, fear. The glow in the eyes flickers and dims for a moment, her eyelids fluttering, her eyes looking around frantically before they focus on Sara, wide. Metal creaks as her fingers dig in, lips parting with a trembling breath, "...help me..."

     For Rave's sake, Hedgehog only has quills along the backs of his arms and atop his head in place of hair. Such a rad mohawk, but also incredibly deadly. The spines are tipped with a light paralytic agent, a natural venom. But even as he doubles over, the kick to his legs brings him down further, Rave getting a good, solid impact that flattens him on the ground. Any attempt to blast those quills at Rave is sent wider, spines pinging against the workshop's metal walls again. The speedster, in her speed-brought clarity as the world is moving slower around her, will see some kind of... patch. A graft. A... chip with electronic tendrils attached to the back of his neck amidst a patch that looks to have had the spines ripped free.

    Cecily at the moment is loading a blue-taped magazine into her bolt-action while all of this is happening, Frost skating towards her at a hard, intent pace, eyes shining bright. His arms come up, blocks of ice forming on them, solid like bricks, and he bears down. She doesn't have enough time to bring the rifle up, instead sweeping her arm in an upward arc, a thick, withering burst of blue-white flame erupting from her hand and rising from the ground in an explosion of heat and light that engulfs him. The supernatural flame shatters and melts the ice, staggering the mutant and sending him tumbling forward onto a hard swing of that rifle butt. "Subdue them!" she answers Rave, yelling back.

Achilles has posed:
    All he needed was a moment's respite. Just a half a second to catch his body up to his brain. Sara has just purchased him that moment. But there is another small issue. But he scrambles up to his feet before he notices the Witchblade.
    A smile creeps over his face as he surges to his feet. He even retracts the shield into the bracer. Don't think about things like physics and mass and such. But he snaps his left arm out straight and the sound of popping can be heard. Just like that, it's fine again.
    But then he rushes in and with the blade tying up the girl, he hears that piteous begging for help... and whips in to snake around behind the girl to get her in a hold that is even more difficult to escape no matter the strength involved.
    That's when he notices it. The mark on the back of the neck... and so he plants a foot in the back of the girl's knee to drive her forward towards the ground and says, "Use the blade. Right here beside my face. A scar. Carefully slice in and remove the device in there please. For the sake of the child."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Clang!

The metallic ring resounds through the room. Faces inches apart, straining against the muscled woman, arm trembling with effort, Sara almost doesn't catch the fear and moment of clarity, but she hears the whisper for help.

The Witchblade has its imperatives. Sara still learning to direct it, growls at the effort it takes to wrench the bar from the young woman, and not use it on her. She throws the bar away, and it clatters on the floor.

Angelo's recovery is stunning, his grappling hold on the teenager straight from ancient Greece. She throws him a look of pure disbelief as she kneels next to the downed woman.

"What? What?"

The Witchblade seems to answer her question. A blade slides from the gauntlet, stiletto thin, scalpel-sharp. She watches herself in disbelief make a nick in the back of the woman's neck, blood starting from the wound, and something metallic is immediately apparent under the skin. Another glance at Angelo to confirm his words, and she tries to lever the device from her neck.

Naria Shepard has posed:
"There's something on their necks! Some sorta implant thingy!"

The call from the bluenette was offering advice that others had already discovered, but she was skidding into place beside the downed quill-guy and trying to work out how the hell she was meant to get this thing out without accidently lasering the poor kid's head off. It was better than considering she'd nearly met the same fate, that's for damn sure! Cecily's cry was a good instruction, but not a 'how-to', still with the other two professionals seemingly having things covered and her own problem to deal with Rave was left to offer an exhale of frustration.

She needed to start carrying handcuffs, cable ties or....somethin'!

Next best thing? She extend her hand, a glowing flare of blue light dancing around her pale digits with a warning from her lips.

"Don't move, or I'm gonna have to knock the fight out of you!"

Cecily Winters has posed:
    That locking of weapons and moment of clarity leaves the Heavy vulnerable to a well-timed grapple. She cries out as her eyes glow fierce again, mucles flexing, bulging, but even unbridled, unfocused strength won't free her from that godly hold. She struggles and squirms, but the ache from those shots has her limbs weakened, and she's easily disarmed.

    Even as the girl struggles, it's not hard to make that incision, to wedge a thin edge up beneath some kind of surprisingly chunky chip. The more it gets pulled and wiggled out, the more the girl strains and shrieks in agony. With the chip comes strands of circuitry, black tendrils shining with blood as the device is quite literally uprooted from the base of her neck. Any final scream is turned into a raspy, hoarse moan of pain before she goes limp in Angelo's arms. The mutant girl's budding healing factor has immediate results, her meta-level strength not just her only claim, as the wound's bleeding slows. The man holding her will feel that, despite her unconsciousness, she's got a steady heartbeat. It slows as she calms, but only skirts the edge of dangerously slow before it stays stable there.

    Rave's opponent, unfortunately, seems to be working more on rage despite the impact he's taken. He gets his wind back and snarls, almost like a feral creature. The threat seems to give him no pause as he digs claw-like fingers into the ground and yanks himself up and forward. Mohawk-first he lunges at Rave, as if to flat-out headbutt her wherever he can find purchase on her body!

    Cecily's target collapses in a heap, as hot steam from his ice melting in an explosive burst followed by his momentum sending him into a rifle butt knocks him out of the fight. The latest to the party now, Cecily sees the implant that Rave is shouting about, and frowns. She's no surgeon either. "Shit..." she drops her rifle to the ground and grabs two things from her belt. A pair of handcuffs is yanked free and hurled towards Rave, the other hand pulling out a combat knife. "...I'm sorry, kid..." she breathes and uses that blue-white flame to heat up her blade to a level that almost makes the edge glow. She feels like Angelo and Sara have the right idea, and begins to do much the same with the chip before her. The same result can be heard, though Frost is closer to unconsciousness than Heavy had been, his sounds of pain turning to a loud sigh of relief when the tendrils of circuitry and finally ripped free. He, too, passes out, curled up in the dust.

Achilles has posed:
    "Perfect." says Angelo to Sara as he releases the unconscious girl. "She'll be okay in time." he says as he stands up and looks around. "The others must have the same type of chip." he states as he runs over and scoops up his I.C.E.R. pistol.
    Okay, so it's more of a Matrix style roll over it which has him up and running with it in his hand already.
    Then, in a moment of amused inspiration, he says, "Here. Catch. Non-lethal SHIELD issue. Don't hold back." as he tosses the gun towards Sara. She's a better shot than he is. At least he thinks so. He always did prefer up close and personal after all.
    And a moment later, he has a gleaming celestial bronze Xiphos sword in hand as he charges towards the other two controlled kids.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara catches the weapon spinning end over end at its grip, and hefts it to accustom herself to the weight. After a glance down at the girl to reassure herself that she is still alive and no longer in attack mode, she follows Angelo at a run. She goes to Cecily careful to not trip on the ice melting on the floor.

"Are you alright? Is that what is doing it? That thing inserted into their necks?" She glances between Cecily and the boy curled in the dust, pity darkening her eyes.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    The girl in Angelo's arms slumps to the floor of the warehouse, her wound still trickling a faint amount of blood, but even the gunshots that had pierced her limbs don't seem to be leaking that much anymore either. She'll be fine, probably. Outside, Cecily is finalizing the removal of the chip in Frost's neck, and she looks up when Sara nears her. "I'm... ow... fine..." she eyes the quills still jammed in her torso, then holds up the chip. "I have no idea, but I think that's a pretty good guess. These were some of the kids that were abducted *last* month. They got dragged out of her concert... she got tasered and I got my arm broken, we couldn't chase them..."

    She nods to Rave, a look of concern in her eyes. To her credit, the bluenette is incredibly fast. She snatches up those cuffs as they're thrown, spinning around a fingertip as her superior speed and reflexes put her out of harm's way of the lunging Hedgehog. A swift sweep of her leg sends him barreling into the dust all over again and she's on him immediately, taking the best care she can to wrap his wrists in handcuffs without getting herself stabbed by the quills on his arms.

    The neon girl doesn't carry a blade, however, so someone else will have to do the honors of the chip removal...

Achilles has posed:
    "Roll'er over face down!" announces Angelo as he goes to his knees, sliding the last foot or so down there. "Keep us covered eh Detective?" he asks, his sword-laden hand coming up. For a sword, the thing is -razor- sharp. I mean seriously, most swords aren't sharp as hell because they really don't need to be. You could cut a man in half with a dull edge if you swing it hard enough.
    But Hephaestus doesn't make subpar weapons..... and the moment the back of the neck is exposed, he goes to work. The tip of his blade used as a scalpel, and his off hand used to guide the blade's edge with finger and thumb. He does the grisly work and pulls the chip free regardless of any pained shouts or protests.. but once it's free, the sword literally vanishes.
    "That should be all of them." he says, "I suggest that we let the NYPD take them into protective custody and question them. Something they saw or heard may lead to the parties responsible." he says, looking up to Sara as if asking... 'right?'

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara has had her back to the removal of the device, not out of any squeamishness but to keep an eye out. With a glance back over her shoulder, she shrugs.

"This is not NYPD territory, no matter what they say. SHIELD needs to be in on this. They won't like it upstairs but that's the way I read this. Mutants, space age control devices. Nobody was killed. Get your people in on this, Angelo because these types," she gestures to the downed three, "could tear a precinct apart if you ask me."

Cecily Winters has posed:
    Hedgehog struggles a lot more than Heavy does. He's also very spiny. Angelo is going to get a face full of quills for his trouble, and the back of the kid's neck is pretty spiny along with that stabby mohawk of his. But regardless of trouble, trial, and difficulty, that third chip is pried free with all of the blood and wailing as the last two, maybe even more because this kid has lungs good enough for a death metal band. And like the other two, when it's removed, he slumps into unconsciousness. It's... almost peaceful. It's still cold and night out, the trainyard is deathly quiet, and again that feeling of wrongness permeates everything.

    Sara's blade might start to sense something, and Cecily's ear perk up. She's busy taking the quills out of herself, little grunts of effort as she yanks them one by one, stained red at the tips but at least the numbing poison has cancelled any pain. "...does anyone else hear that?" she asks, frown upon her lips. Her rifle is on the ground, loaded with less-than-lethal munitions. Her MP7 is on the floor of the warehouse next to Heavy, discarded by Angelo in the fight. And there's a loud grinding sound with a heavy CLANG that can be heard. A cargo elevator. Here? The building is only a surface level structure. Heavy, heavy boots can be heard, stomping, tromping, and shuffling.

    A large figure, human-sized, wrapped up in heavy riot gear leans out of the door with a firearm in its hands. An automatic rifle by the looks of it, though in addition to the magazine, there's some sort of wired battery pack as well, and electricty flickers along the barrel. There's a weak, feminine wail that sounds like the muscular mutant girl is waking up in the worst way possible. A gruff, almost mechanical voice can be heard bellowing behind it all: "SECURE THE PROTOTYPES. DISPOSE OF THE OTHERS."

Achilles has posed:
    In fact, the quills are ignored by Angelo because for whatever reason... they don't manage to break his skin. Press into it, yes, but the flesh doesn't break. Hello, Achilles. Either way, when he finishes his work there, he slumps a bit. Not so much exhausted as relieved.
    And then.. the elevator and the footsteps. He turns his head, and his green eyes take in the sight of the armored form. "Chap. You picked the wrong day, and the wrong target and the wrong job. I wager you'll wish you'd gone with less stupid employment rather soon." he says conversationally as his eyes flicker up to Sara's, and she might recognize the expression from another warehouse. This is when he is most truly alive. When the promise of a real fight presents itself. But before her eyes, his eyes stay the same, but bronze forms over his forehead and cheeks. He's calling in the bracers to provide his full suit. Not just the shield or the sword. His Grecian helmet (yes, with horsehair fringe atop it) has formed over his head, and his breastplate and greaves and even the armored skirt have replaced the BDU's and Kevlar vest. The shield is back, and the dent it had is gone... and in his hand, he holds a seven foot spear.
    Mind you, all of this formed during the time from when he was kneeling and looking up to Sara, and his normal speed rise to his feet and a turning to face the riot trooper. "You are entirely out of your league. And that's just me. Wait until my friends get warmed up." he says as he begins stalking forward....