1963-11-20 - Operation Needlepoint
Summary: The Brotherhood raid a military base for a whole lot of weapons. Scene contains B-hind pinchin' and hardware skitchin'…
Related: The Sisterhood of Mutants
Theme Song: "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas"
raven domino silencer cain fred moe josh gambit 


Cain has arrived.


The first instruction is easy enough. There's an address left in the Six Alarm safe house for some place down in southeastern New Jersey, just outside of Stafford Township, with instructions on when to be there by. Anyone who's planning on being a part of the madness could either catch a ride there or find their own transportation.

There's also something on that note about bringing your 'Sunday best,' whatever that meant.

The address in question leads to a run-down lumber mill which has clearly seen better days and very little in the way of activity for years. Some cursory effort has been made in pushing the debris out of the way, opening up a healthy amount of space for storage.

This is also where the albino would be waiting, once more done up in head to toe full white but with a bundle of woodland camo gear beside her. Playing the part of a table is a large overturned circular sawblade propped up on hacked up chunks of tree trunks. Rust has almost eaten its way straight through the heavily worn saw.

"Welcome to the Pinestaff safehouse. Tonight's goal is to fill as much of this space as possible with military hardware. Find a truck, fill a truck, make it back here without a tail. We've got numbers and the element of surprise in our favor, they won't have a damn clue what's hitting them. Raven's already on the inside." So..she should know enough to not get herself shot by her own teammates.

"Silencer, I'm going to need you on point for this. Do that thing that you do on their communications," she instructs while pointing to a crudely build model of the complex. "While you work on that I'm going to make sure the air control tower is clear. Moe, if you can get me up there in a hurry that'd be great."

"Fred, Cain, you guys run straight-up interference. Watch the main exit, watch the motorpool. Nothing comes in, nothing gets out. They'll be working against their own chokepoints, use that to our advantage."

"Gambit, see if you can't pull some tricks on their generators. We'll knock them back to reserve power, slow 'em down and add to the panic. -You-…" she trails off while pointing at Josh. "I have no idea who you are yet. You can join whomever you'd like to, just try not to get killed out there."

"One last thing, guys. If -anyone- gets spared then this is a bust. They will find us. They will come after us. Our only path to success here is to follow one simple rule. Everyone dies. No exceptions. You leave someone behind you compromise the entire team. If you can't make the shot then get someone else who can. Tonight we play for keeps. We good?"


"Gun, eh?"

Silencer looks over the plans of the complex, smoking a cigarette, and expels a cloud of smoke into the air. "Sound like fun. We gettin' badges after this?" He glances over at Domino and the grin on his face widens. "Don't worry 'bout a thing, luv. They won't know what hit 'em — well, they will, once they catch a glimpse o' Fred or Cain 'ere…"

The grin becomes a smirk.


There is a little bundle of little red demon perched upon a branch out and just a little bit away from the group. His tail hangs down behind the branch, curling lazily around. He's hunched, and little stubby arms are crossed in front of his chest while beady, yellow, featureless eyes stare (or glare) at everyone as they arrive. Domino is giving the 'welcome speech', and he mouths behind her, mimicking.. and when she gets to him?

'Moe' holds out a little three-fingered hand and wiggles it. "Bamfbamf.." Payment for this evening? A donut.


Cain took Sunday best to mean some sort of disguise. Which, in his case, is just a ski mask pulled down over his face, the result being rather horrifying given his overall mass. Beyond that, he's wearing his leather vest and is bare chested and armed, with thick black leather gloves covering his hands. Not exactly hiding his identity, since there aren't a ton of seven and a half foot tall musclebound freaks in the tri-state area - but it sure as fuck makes him scary looking.

"I ain't never been good, but that ain't ever stopped me before. But, then, nothing stops me," he says, a crimson flare in the depths of his eyes as he cracks his knuckles and then slaps Fred on the back, resulting in a rather profound and undulating jiggle, "C'mon, pork chop, time to break some shit."


Remy Le Beau steps out of a brand new, limited edition, cherry red, 1963 Corvette. His hair is still wet, nicely combed back and, for once, he's shaved. He's wearing a suit that is pitch black with a starch white shirt underneath. A bowtie hangs loose under the collar.

He walks in to the meeting late, as per usual, but as he takes a drag from a cigarette and approaches, he gives Domino a nod. "Should be no trouble, chere. Should make em go boom wit minima' issue." But as Domino talks about sparing no one, Remy makes a face. Maybe it's too much time with Jessica Jones. Maybe it's something else.


Josh listens to the mission, all dressed in black and nodding along as the instructions are given. When he's pointed out, he can't help but grin, the expression a bit dark on his golden (not literally,…yet) features. He nods over to Fred and Cain, "I'm best where the most people are that need to go down. Sounds like that means I'm with them." He hesitates, "And if anyone gets hurt, come find me. I'll take care of you."


It was all a bunch of lingo. Choke this, throttle that, interfurence and extradication. Fred just stood around the saw blade and tried to look like he understood a gatdamn word she was goin' on about… She and Cain always had that rapport. Now without Raven on sight to water it down a bit, Fred just nodded along and grunted his measure of affirmatives. Moe over there is a welcome distraction, the portly man unable to supress the occasional "huh huh" of a laugh as the imp goes about with his mocking pantomime.

Now as far as Sunday Best went… Well, it was clean and it looked like he had found a green, BDU shirt that fit him… unless that was just the canvas cover off of a transport truck that had gotten whipped up into a shirt. He worked a hand at the scraggly facial hair that clung to his jaw, stroking it in idle thought before Silencer popped Fred's name from his mouth "Even then, they ain't gonna see us fer long." What he meant was 'We'll be the last thing they see' but that's what you get. His body suddenlyh begins to ripple like a jellow mold, jiggling, the undulations of flesh radiating out from the impact of Fred's hand. "Whutever you say y'high stacked shit heap." he retorts, rolling his shoulders… to try and make his flesh sit still.

Aw, Cain had a mask… He shoulda brought his Spidey one.



Helicopters by hired goons were already in effect. How Raven has come to know such people is suspect. But Raven was no longer Raven, for the purpose of this mission. She knew to take orders well, she knew that when something was worthwhile she'll fall in line and do what needs to be done.

Correction. He.

Not just any He. He was a five star decorated motherfucking General. Where some other universes had their General Sam Lane? This tall, built, brick-shit-house bastard could all but click his teeth in disdain and make Lane piss himself out of right. Handsome as he was, tall, tall enough to grip his hat and duck down from the chopper blades, ignoring the cries of the pilot and co-pilot to wait until the engine was shut down and the propellers to come to a halt.

Fuck you buddy.

His name was General Edward French. Aka the Butcher. Aka the Slaughterer of Nagasaki. Aka the Pincher of Womens B-hinds. (Ask him how he got this name. Dare you.)

General French was met with the usual entourage of suits much like his, a few labcoats, geeks with pocket protectors and tape to hold up their glasses. It was easily told that one of them must have suffered a punch due to the crookedness of his nose, and the overall squeamishness when he kept his gaze down as the General beared upon them.

Wordless. Militant. Salutes were issued where the General gave none back. You bow down to me, fools.

Though, there was something. Something of a tick that has the General rolling his shoulders, his neck twisted at an odd angle to readjust the spine. Cracks and snaps were heard as the hat was soon removed and tucked beneath his arm. A lift upon the tip of his well-shined dress shoes and a hand that drops down towards his crotch to adjust with a bold lift of a leg and a shake of his hips to dangle it off.

-Someone- went a little overboard; but nevermind that.

"Show me." The man's gruff voice took precendence over the quiet murmurs, the entourage was on the move, quite possibly at the same time Domino delivers her speech.

Game on.


"Not until you get your badge for helping an old lady across the street, Sy," Domino replies with a thin smirk of her own.

A donut, but a very lovely cream-filled donut. With sprinkles. She went all out for this one!

To Cain she offers a thumbs up. "Nice game-face there." Then to Fred, not completely suppressing a roll of her eyes and a sigh, she clarifies "Mash soldiers into paste. And if they come after you guys with vehicles then ..hit it with a tank, or something," she 'suggests' with a dismissive wave.

Of course in their case they probably would hit something -with a tank.- Those gun barrels probably make for some inviting handles when you can throw around that much weight.

When she looks back to Remy she looks about ready to speak but catches herself, changing her tune to "I want your car."

In Josh's case her eyes widen, just enough to be obvious. "You're a healer? We've got a goddamn -healer?- Okay, Raven's getting a cookie for this one. Yeah..Fred and Cain'll take care of you, too."

For clarification she runs everyone through the model layout (and in Fred's case she just tells him to follow Cain.) "It'll be a few miles' hike, due west through the pine barrens. Raven's staking out the cache as we speak, she'll lead us right to the good shit. For those keeping score we're about to hit the Warren Grove Range, codenamed 'Thistle.' I have no idea what the opposition is going to look like..but we've got this. Now let's go sucker-punch the hell out of Uncle Sam."

If anyone complains about the hike through the woods she'll smack 'em one.

The full extent of the facility involves a small airfield and several buildings. It looks rather peaceful, all in all. Probably because it's a materiel cache and not training grounds.


"Okay, mates — don't wreck all the vehicles," Silencer murmurs to his comrades once they reach the edge of the facility. "We'll need some of 'em to shift the loot back out. Alllllright…" And the Australian claps his hands together (silently, despite the obvious effort) and spreads his arms, shaking out his fingers.

"Nobody piss me off, or distract me — that means no saucy descriptions of calendar models, or what Fred looks like without his 'Sunday Best' on…" Silencer grins, then stretches a hand toward the military complex. He makes a 'grabby-hands' gesture (as if he were the 'pincher of B-Hinds'), and sticks his hand in his pocket.

The complex… goes silent.

Sy looks at the group. "You'll still be able to talk… most o' the time. Oh, shit. What if I just muted Raven?" A grin spread across the man's face.

"Wish I could see her face right now…"




Moe teleports out of his tree and lands on the makeshift table long enough to nab the deluxe donut and teleport back, leaving the small gathered in a cloud of sulfur and brimstone. Once back in the tree, he's shoving the pastry into his mouths, looking like a demon squirrel, the way his cheeks are puffing out, revealing little sharp, pointed teeth.

Payment for a teleport?


Moe is back, and lands on Domino's shoulder, perching like a little, well, shoulder demon. His tail wraps lightly around the back of Domino's neck, and brows rise on the red, fuzzy background that is his face. "Bamf?"

Should Domino be ready, they're on their way with one more bamf.


Cain gets him, Cain (and Josh in tow) up the road a ways until he leaves them behind to get a running start. He likes to set the tone with a good old charge. In the tight confines of the city, he doesn't get as much chance to free run into things, at least not without causing untold collateral damage.

So, after he builds up a bit of speed, he hits the fence hard, caving it in and bringing down a pile of wire and fence all around him like a shroud made of metal.


"Y'can get in, but where we goin' I ne'er really have a clue," Remy says to Domino with a wink. He tosses her the keys out of his pocket with a grin. "Keep it. It's hot."


"It's hot, like realleh. De police will put you in da hoosegow iffen dey find ya wit it," Remy adds with a smile.

The Cajun follows along quietly. He doesn't even have a smart alec remark for anyone who mocks Fred, which always seems to be his forte. Nor does he have any further remarks that amount to hitting on anyone.

He's oddly quiet, and not just because Silencer is shutting things down. He just saunters along, steady as she goes.


Josh flashes his best grin for Domino, and its a fairly impressive grin at that. "Yep." He doesn't elaborate on his prowess as a healer, but instead adopts an expression that is clinical. Cool and detached, he follows Cain and Fred, and to them he does elaborate, "Don't worry about me, guys. I can take care of myself." And then he is marching through the woods towards the base, and though he doesn't particularly work, but until Cain gets rushing, the healer manages to keep up. Following after Juggernaut, who provides a most excellent distraction, Elixir steps up to a guard who lifts his gun.

And his skin turns metallic black as he reaches out and touches one of the soldiers. The man tries to scream, but he can't: his throat suddenly seizes shut as every muscle in his body seizes. Within a few seconds, the soldier is shaking, and he falls to the ground dead a moment later from a massive heart attack. Upon his blackened expression, Elixir is grim. He doesn't like killing people.

That doesn't mean he's not really good at it. "Sorry." he says quietly to the corpse as black eyes look up and stare at the next guard before him.


Fred grouches, quit grunts of complaint or grumbles as he trudges along after Cain. The larger man's pace making him have to all but jog to keep up. He's not quite unathletic… but as Cain picks up speed, he begins to lag behind, breath coming with less ease as Cain hammers through the front gates like a train that never even heard of brakes.

That's fine though. Just fine. He trucked along unencumbered by the hefty chain that was slung over one shoulder and wrapped around a arm. Un troubled by the sawblade that bounced against his back as he ran. As he neared, he brought it forward, guard rifles spat bullets against it. Some punched through to burry themselves in his soft, unyielding flesh. He hefted it out and swung it at the end of the chain secured to it's center by a heavy, rusted bolt. He whipped it around overhead, and let it carve through men with long, terrible swings.


Control room: Lots of buttons. But it was suspect. Where does it lead. General French asks. And he receives an answer that nearly makes his flesh peel right from his face.
Armory: There was artillery in the making, nothing cutting edge, just an age old practice that outfit the local militants. Dummy bullets. Actual bullets. Experimental things that possibly will never be in fruition. It seems that special permissions were needed for that front. (HINT HINT).

Air strips. A few more bunkers for housing soldiers.

The world was at their fingertips.

Onto the elevator once more is where the crew remains. General French at the back, arms pressed in front of himself as he listens to the other speak. Explaning each floor..

..until their lips begin to move. There was no sound coming from their mouths.

'Fucking Terry.' - Thankfully, no one heard that.

And no one would hear the reptilian crawl of her skin as she shifts to her natural form. One would considered naked as day if it weren't for the scales and obvious covering of bits with them. In the confined spaces of the elevator, Raven moved like a dream. One foot planted upon the wall as her hand snatches the gun from a holster. Boost from that foot to spider monkey towards the opposite side, long legs at the end create a fine split that would cause tents and rolled tongues.

Extrodinary upper body strength, her upper body carries a slight upwards curl as she unleashes a grin.

If there were screams. They wouldn't be heard.

Only the muzzle flash of the weapon which would blend in with the light of the floors would pay homage to the carnage that was left within.


"Raven's a big girl, she'll make it work," Domino distractedly replies while looking upon their target and shrugging out of her camo coverings. As soon as the mute is in effect she motions the Brotherherd onward. "Their pants are down, go for the jewels!"

Even with Silencer's work she has a suppressor on her .45 pistol which she just happened to 'find' about twenty-four hours ago, glancing to the Moe on her shoulder with a wink. "Fire in the hole, little—"



There's no flicker of light from the control tower windows. There's no sound, either. It's just like an action movie with the volume turned off, empty brass shells flicking through the air in one direction as military personnel at their stations fall to the floor in another direction. They never hear a sound, never hear the warnings or note of confusion from their companions. It's just too damn easy.

Mutant and hesitantly acceptant!

If there's any sort of alarm from Cain bashing through the perimeter no one would ever know it. There's nothing to (attempt to) stop the Juggernaut, just a nice open field with a couple of reinforced concrete buildings all nicely lined up at the end like a set of bowling pins. The motorpool is easier to spot off to one side, it's larger and fitted with hefty garage doors. So far..all is silent. Literally! The only creatures stirring are those pressing the attack!

Remy's job is like a relaxing stroll through the park. The power station is easy to find and isn't likely to be manned by many. So..y'know. Whenever he happens to get to it. It's cool. Really.

Had that one soldier managed to scream Elixir would probably have a lot more soldiers to kill. As it is, he's quite fortunate. No cry for help. No reinforcements.

Those soldiers that are in the area are drawn by the most -peculiar- vibrations in the ground… They don't need to hear anything to see the two massive brutes charging toward them. One with a -giant freaking sawblade on the end of a chain?!- There's a lot of yelling and shooting at Fred and Cain (which may or may not have been muted by Silencer.) While they're still closing the gap a couple of soldiers manage to jump into a Jeep and try to cut the invaders off. One uniformed grunt is already reaching for the controls of a .50 caliber machine gun on the back of the Jeep!

Two guys in an elevator are no match for the metamorph. No sound, no problem. Though while Raven is in that elevator it's probably for the best that Gambit is taking his time with the generators. If the rest of the team left her stranded in a tiny metal box she might get a teensy bit ornery.

Eh. She'll get over it. (Weapons, Raven! -Weapons!-)

Still, thus far..the facility at large remains quiet. No alarms. No reinforcements on their way. There's the small handful of camo'ed grunts running around without any sort of guidance but they aren't going to last long.

Which leaves the armory, the motorpool, and a whole lot of big, badass toys for the plundering.


ROLL: Gambit +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 7


Terry Walker (Sy) smirks to himself as he heads into the complex.

Despite the smirk, taking in the sound across an entire complex — while at the same time keeping comms open for his fellow…thieves — is no mean feat. He's starting to get a headache.

Time to do something.

Rounding a corner, the Australian spots a group of soldiers frantically trying to shout at each other, as well as into their radios… to no avail. Behind them lies a truck — a rather large truck for carrying heavy ordnance, although at the moment it is full of vehicle parts. Nothing useful. Terry smiles.

Gesturing to the vehicle, he lifts it up off the ground and slooowly tips it sideways. Chunk after chunk of metal parts, engines etc falls to the ground without a noise — all around the soldiers.

Still, they don't notice a thing.

Then, as the shadow of the truck passes over head, one lieutenant looks upward… and points. They all stop shouting as they see the floating truck above them…just as it dumps the remainder of its cargo on top of them.

As Terry floats the vehicle over to a place where his comrades can load it up, sound begins to slowly return. "Look alive, mates," he remarks to no one in particular. "Bit o' noise comin' your way." He sets the truck down, and for the next few moments everyone is able to hear again.


Moe lands Domino into the Control Tower, though not without making that grab for the keys that Remy'd tossed at Domino just before they departed. (Her loss, his gain! Now to work out exactly how to make it go!) He's on the back of a chair, and opens his mouth wide, showing off those sharp teeth, and those little glowing yellow eyes. Almost-two-feet worth of demon terror, the guy never saw what was coming when taking a shot from the side by Domino.

The body sprays some blood on him, red on red.. and Moe looks disgusted as he tries to wipe away the bits of moisture. "…mfff.." What?!


Apparently, the field in front of Cain was largely open because some of it as being used as a practice minefield. He steps on a couple, sending a cascade of dirt and explosion around him, eerily silent as the dirt gets blasted over him. Of course, this leads to him giving a rather vociferous-looking lip sync that would be censored in most civilized countries and might make those of a more delicate nature pass right out, were they to hear it. Ancient Sumerian chaos deities know the best swear words.

Finally, he reaches what appears to be a large tin shack and just casually rips the entire wall off, revealing a massive cornucopia of firearms, including a few prototype SAMs. Cain begins to casually pile the boxes of weaponry onto the wall he removed, planning to drag it behind him as a sled to carry back his stash, like some great bastard reindeer dragging Santa's sled of goodies. Ho ho ho.


With the sound taken care of, it's almost too easy.

Gambit nearly prances along, across the field, with nary a concern. He figures, like the others, that the generators will be the least of concerns for their adversaries. Remy waltzes to the front door, touches the lock. It explodes. He opens the door. He's in.

But just as he is, someone comes around the corner!


Out comes the Bo Staff in Remy's hands and he gives a swift uppercut with metal on tooth. There's no sound, but he could feel the crack in his hands. It was a good one, and the dolt was out for the count.

Gambit leans down and breathes heavily. He knows he's supposed to kill. He knows that it will come back to haunt them if they don't. But knowing what Jessica Jones has just gone through, and knowing what she will think of him if he does, he can't. He just can't do it.

He gets up and keeps moving to the generators, leaving the man who saw his face alive.


Fred's saw bounced off of concrete and sparked off of gates. He swung it with barely controlled abandon hat had the blades teeth chipping and snapping off. It's rusted, abused life soon came to an end when that young man reached his large gun however. Wheeling that barrel around towards the big man just as Fred reeled the saw blade back. And interposed it between himself and the jeep. Those heavy rounds tore through the old, thin steel, ripping it apart The gunfire continued… and Cain walked into the hail of bullets that poured from the big gun. His arms raised to protect his face, he trudged forward, his clothes becoming torn, tattered as heavy bullets punched and pounded at his flesh. At last the gun ran dry and Fred reached out… He could have tied it in a knot… but they were here for guns.

Instead, he took the man by the ankle and flung him away… possibly into the next county before he wrenched the gun and it's mount from their place so he had something to contribute to the cause.


For his part, Josh reaches the second guard, but he's not supernaturally quick, and there's one bullet that is fired off before his hand reaches the soldier. The bullet slices into the black of his shoulder, and he bleeds black blood, but that doesn't stop him laying hands and watching as the second man's entire body tries to tear itself apart. Its not pretty: tendons and tissue rip and tear and over several seconds the fellow is more or less a flesh sack, and so very, very dead. "I'm sorry." says Elixir grimly, and then he's jogging past, over to the motorpool for a jeep. He's not strong enough to pull off the Santa Cain thing, so he needs a jeep to pile full of presents.


The halting of the elevator is heard just in time for the sound to 'turn back on'. The gun was dropped in favor of covering her ears, her teeth bared as she grits through it all. Her thighs relax, so that bare feet could slide down the metal, her hands soon drawn away from her ears to reach for the body that lays upon the ground, relaxing her legs, drawing her thighs together as she bends backwards, her toe tip touching the ground as she snaps herself upright.

Glorious red hair follows, her eyes soon opening as she's met with..

..armed guards.

"Hello Sweeties!" (River Song - Circa 2014)

That grand ol' hello was met with a bullet to the stomach. Raven crumbles, then snaps out with a flurry of motion that resembles a near cartwheel, her legs capturing a man by the neck as she lifts herself, upper body swinging in a circle and a snap of a thighs that draws the same result to the mans neck.


Hands touch down upon the ground as legs toss and throw the body against the next, another slithering action that takes the balance of a solider to knock him upon the ground, her head snapping to the side to avoid a bullet by pure instinct alone, though that does not stop the grazing of it against her cheek. Blood!

And laughter. Laughter that rings out with a melodous sound over the thundering cracks. A somersault allows a gun to be snagged from the fallen as crack shots were aimed towards their knees to throw off their aim. A lowered backflip upon a fallen body of a broken man has blade removed from his belt and jammed into the middle of his forward. Smacked off to leave hilt buried deep within.

And it was not over.

Sure. Raven was getting shot to hell but this was the blue devil who survived it. And by the time she was finished..

Someone lost an ear.
I think that was a finger twitching over there.
A foot was twisted upon someones leg backwards and..
Someone threw up! Was.. was that corn?

But that leaves her standing there, her chest heaving. Tired. Her jaw working ever so briefly as her skin ripples with delight. It was rather disgusting really, for once that rippling stop, Raven clearly spits out a wisdom tooth that was clearly dislodged from a probable punch.


At the control tower Domino shoves a dead guy away from a console and gives the system a quick looking over. Good..good..g—hmm. She thumbs away a gob of blood and taps the radar display.

"That can't be good. We've gotta go, Moe." And they'll be having a 'chat' about those car keys later.

Death by automotive parts. Is there anything that a proper V8 can't handle? Bits of machinery litter the ground like giant steel weeds, some of them with an arm or a leg sticking out from the edges. Plus, Silencer's now got himself a Deuce and a Half that's ready for new cargo! The amount of hardware that can be loaded onto the back of just -one- of those trucks is absured. And there's more than one of those giant trucks waiting to be taken.

Gambit lucked out in not getting shot, though part of what makes luck 'work' is balancing the odds in your favor as you go through life. Choosing to let the one soldier live is going to tip his hand sooner or later, for better or for worse…

IF that soldier manages to make it out of here in one piece, of course.

Not even the Big Browning is a match for Fred's Flab (though the heavy bullets sure got things jiggling when they struck the rotund beast of a man!) The Jeep..is a total loss. The gun is now Fred's. Those good old M2 machine guns, they're the gift which keeps on giving.

One other thing about luck..someone always has to draw the short straw. With everything up top kept nice and quiet the majority of the troops here never knew there was a problem right over their heads. They stayed put, safely underground.

Until Raven found them all.

With the sound back on the muffled *thoom!* of gunfire can be heard from the subterranian portion of the facility, though once that dies down there's another new sound. Coming from much higher up.

Two helicopters are inbound. Hueys, for those in the know. Three guesses which airfield they're prepping to land at.


This may be why they practice night-time landings, as the Thistle facility is sitting awfully dark tonight with the generators offline.


Once the sound (well, most of it) returns, Terry finds it a little easier to think. A guard makes it out of one of the other buildings, shouting:

"Ha — !"

Terry snatches the man's voice mid-word, then breaks the soldier's neck with a telekinetic fist. "Ha." The Australian turns back toward the truck, pockets the noise of the explosion (rather the sound of falling debris just after it) and uses the energy to load munitions etc onto the heavy vehicle.


"On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me… seven sub-machineguns, six M-16s, fiiiive plastic explosives! four rocket launchers, three claymore mines, two anti-aircraft… somethings that doesn't rhyme…"

Terry loads the last of what he can see around him and tilts his head sideways, grinning broadly. "And a partridge in a — ," He blinks at the sky, hearing the noise.

"…pair of inbound choppers!"


A couple of total morons with M-16s decide to try to interrupt Cain's departure, standing in his path and peppering him with auto-fire. He drops his makeshift sled and grasps up each of them, one in each hand.


Yeah, Cain's got some SAMs alright. Surface-to-Air Meatheads. When the choppers starting heading inwards, he takes the soldiers in hand and flings them, one two, aiming high in a lobbing arc to try to land in the rotors of one of the helicopters, hoping to throw it off balance, splatter the windshield with guts and, of course, horrify the poor bastard flying the damn thing.


Moe perches at the seat once the guy falls dead from it. He turns his head, glowing yellow eyes staring directly at Domino as she mentions something about 'we' gotta go? "Bamf?" Is that an innocent look? He holds out a hand and the expression seems more intent. "Bamfbamf.." Seems he's a 'pay per job' sort of gremlin? He's got his own ideas as to where to 'go', and there are a million different destinations in his particular travelogue. Peeeeeeering over to look at the radar, he lets out a soft, "Baaaaaaaamf" before he looks back at Domino. It'd be a shame not to leave now… his posture all but screams as little arms cross again in front of his chest.


Remy walks out onto the field in time to see the helicopter's up in the air. Rather than panic he reaches into the pocket of his suit coat for his soft pack. There's the little clink of his lighter as he lights a smoke.

And then both of the generators explode in a devastating blast that it even makes Remy jump a bit. He skips away, not realizing how much stank he put on that charge. Luckily he pulled dat poor sumbitch out of there before it blew. That'd be messy.


Fred busied himself with grunt work. Squeezing people that were still moving until they stopped or loading trucks and trailers with whatever goods were at hand. He too was moving things with his mind. In that his mind told hium to pick up that crate of rocket laucnhers and his hands, compelled byt the force of his mind… did so!

Easy work for a easy living… until he heard tell of choppers. He groused towards the noise. Sure, they could put to good use some of these ill-gotten gains but, "Ah bet that sumbitch's gonna try'n toss-" he began only for the world to be rocked by a explosion… well, larger explosions. He duckedd his head, hands hefted up protectively. It was a shame, some of these folks wasn't half b- Oh… Okay, so it wasn't his fault. A cursory examination revealed that his rough handling of the launchers was indeed NOT the cause of the explosion… so then what?

"G'damn swamp rat." he uttered, arbitrarily sticking blame somewhere.


While things explode and everything goes to hell, the blackened Josh spends some time calmly loads equipment up into the Jeep he acquired. Hey, this means he doesn't have to kill anyone else, right? That's good because Elixir is starting to get a little bit lightheaded from the effort. Its not especially hard to stop a heart, but its not especially easy, either. He glances up at the sound of the helicopters, "Shitmonkey." is exclaimed, because, really, they don't need helicoptors…

…unless someone can fly one, then they totally need a helicoptor. Josh, though, is a doctor and not a pilot. So he keeps loading up equipment. Guns, ammo, ooh, grenades? Oh my.


Raven's bare foot slowly reaches out to thumb the big toe along the fallen tooth. Her mouth remains a silent twist, her tongue 'fingering' the vacated partition that was left in between, a soon silent suck on her teeth has her lips issuing a loud *POP*.


Fred and Cain should be on the compound, judging by the thunderous movements. By now, Terry should have a headache and Domino was being a ghost in the shell of the compound, Raven herself was not worried.

Though, one has to wonder how long Raven has spent time around ol' Remy. For one tends to pick up their thoughts and mannerisms; she was sure that he could tell her apart from real and false guises that she could wear. And she could possibly tell a pocket that's been picked by his slight hand. Yet, with that said, Raven bends, her lips pursing as she begins to rifle through the pockets of the men, a little hum upon her lips as she coughs, blood splattering and spat out upon the ground until a walkie-talkie was produced and set aside for now.

Set of keys.

She could wor— SMOKES!

She falls back upon her bottom in the childish way that she does, her skin reverting to it's normal pink, blue eyed, blonde haired hue, yet stained with blood that was her own and possibly mingled with the wayward few.

A cigarette was lifted, lit. Inhaled deeply as she slowly exhales..

Walkie talkie picked up and cut on.

"Elixir. Darling. Switch to channel three."

And if he was on there? She'd say simply.

"So, I have.." She looks down at her middle, feeling around.. a bit upon her leg, a shoulder roll and a back stretch. "..a couple of holes for you to take care of. And no, not those."


Dom's shoulders hang as she stares back at Moe. "Really? This is how we're going to operate? I just told you where there's good donuts a few days ago and you can teleport, you're -still- gonna make me do the leg work and have to pay for it all. I thought we had worked past all of this. Okay..you wanna keep me at arm's length that's fine. Now I know what the score is." She's just about to change her destination until she sees two Meatheads flying toward the choppers. Scratch that, she doesn't want one of those birds. "Control room for a Bostom Creme. Final offer."

Then the room fades into deep red light.

"Thank you, Remy," she sighs.

So much to loot, so little time! Christmas this year is sponsored by the U.S. Army and Friends, and Silencer's got the right idea in trying a little (or a lot!) of everything on offer. When the lights go dark then to red the crates full of goodies are still easy to spot, and what down here -isn't- worth taking?

Besides the two choppers that are about to get a little ground crew support.


"HOLY CRAAAAAaaaaaaa—!"


The rotors on a Huey aren't specifically designed to operate while dicing up airborne infantrymen. In a spray of gore and camo the two guys are turned into bite-sized morsels for the coyotes while the main rotors come to a grinding halt. Two crash landings are on their way, with emphasis on the crash!

Feel free to help out with that one, Sy.

The others, they seem to be doing okay. Dom's had the high ground to keep an eye on the situation throughout most of this, though there's still a certain wildcard left unaccounted for. It's only due to one of the dead guy's radios that she hears the call of a familiar voice.

"Yeah. She's fine."


Silencer is climbing into the truck when the choppers crash. Halting just before getting into the driver's seat, he leans out and grimaces visibly at the blood and gore everywhere.

"That's… just wrong, mate. Just plain wrong." Ugh, if his daughter ever found out he was up to shit like this… The Australian banishes the thought…

And then banishes the sound again.

It isn't for long, but immediately the noise of the burning choppers disappears — followed by the sweeping away of all the debris in the path of the truck. It's almost as if an invisible giant just leaned down over his RPG gameboard and wiped away all the pieces with his forearm.

He must have rolled a 20.

Terry turns to look around (as the noise returns) and remarks: "We about ready to head out with this stuff? Grab yer souvenirs — please no body parts — I've got the truck."

And he turns the key, bringing the beast of a vehicle to life.


rMoe is nothing if not a mercenary! Only his payment is in sweets and whatever else he can get his little three-fingered hands on! Allegiances? To the great pastry chef. He looks to consider the offer; Boston Creme is good stuff.. so he nods his assent. The deal is done!

With a *bamf*, he appears on Domino's shoulder, and in the next second, he announces, "Bamf baaaaamf…" and the Tower is left behind, and they come in to land into the Control room. Welcome!


Cain has resumed his hauling of his slate full of goodies to the extraction point. He doesn't dwell on the horrors he may have inflicted and he only absent-mindedly steps over a couple of bodies along the way. To him, this is just work. Honestly, it was so easy it hardly even registered as a challenge. None of these people were a threat to him.

He's the God Damn Juggernaut.

"Fred! C'mon, time to skedaddle, get on a comically undersized motorcycle and follow me!"


Remy walks up to the vehicle right in stride as if it's just like he was taking the A-train. It's no big deal, really.

He takes a seat, snuffs his cigarette, and looks to Moe.

"Dat sum fucked up, shit, non?"

He gives a little shiver as if to say he's going to be happy when they get the hell out of here.


You find the damndest things in the motor pool… Like gifts that officers had tucked away from curious children. Like a tiny, cherry red Harley Davidson, it's paint bright, all shined up and pretty. Fred held it up between his hands with a sense of rapt aw. It was cute.. yet masculine. Then a voice bellowed out and Fred's features turned sour, a scowl etching across his features.

Snorting his aggitation, Fred heaved the minicycle over his shoulder and carried on, "Well now you done gone and ruint it." he uttered beneath his breath as he climbed into another truck, a big, green monster of a thing, and cranked her up.


The walkie talkie in the Jeep rings out, and Josh blinks in surprise, lifting it up and turning to the channel. "Right. On my way." And so he hops into the Jeep, puts it in gear, and gasses it: varooom! Its not far to the main building, but he might as well take his loot with him.

At least as long as its possible. He leaps out of the jeep and rushes into the building, speaking into the radio, "What'd your location, or do I need to find you?" But soon enough he finds the storage room— and the bodies Raven's left behind, and then, there she is.

Elixir doesn't hesitate, he reaches down to grab her hand and help her up, and the moment he touches her the tingling sensation spreads into her body. Where the power could be used to kill before, now it revitalizes, causing flesh to knit together and wounds to seal.

And it has Elixir stumbling and leaning against the wall, his eyes rolling back into his head for a moment. Josh manages to stay conscious, but only just. "Whew." He pants, "Killing people is a lot more energy intensive then I thought it was going to be."


Hearing Josh's voice upon the end of the coms a godsend. Hearing the h.. wait. The sound was gone again.

'Fucking Terry.'

But once the sound cuts back in, she could hear herself wheeze, a pocket knife soon dragged from the dead body of a man as she begins to inspect her holes. Yes. All of them. One that went through the meat of her flesh, and the others that had no through and through. This was carved out with a prick of the knife, scoop, and fling towards a dead body.

She totes double-tapped a nose with a tossed bullet, folks!

It was good pickings really, pain to keep her awake (with tears, but she's no slouch), fragments of this and that tossed aside until the gol— er.. man found her. She doesn't even bat him away. She allows the help. Hangs upon him even. Up until he releases himself and stumbles against the wall. There was a cool and even stare, no sympathy loss for the use of his powers.

"Recollect yourself and get out of here." It was an order. For as soon as it was issued, it was time for Raven to get to work. It took a bit of time (several minutes) for her to find the field telephone, the little tech fired on with it's wind-up generator, the listener pressed to her ear as she begins a series of whirling dials and clicks. As soon as the call is answered upon the other line, Raven speaks quietly.

"Ishchu dlya ochistki. Prinesi mne Zimniy Soldat."

With that said, she won't be joining the Brotherhood on the way back to the safehouse. She was going to make herself right at home."


Next stop: Control room. Domino had to make sure it's all clear, what with the whole 'everyone dies' decree. No soldiers left means no one can phone home and say they just got raided! Once she's gotten her confirmation it's back to the motorpool with Moe (she'll walk this time) to help load up another truck. They have the space back at Pinestaff, they may as well make the most of it!

Then it's a matter of waiting for everyone else to return with their loot. This year Christmas is a month early for the Brotherhood.

"Leave the vehicles here, they'll need some modification before we can safely take them out into the open." Including the Corvette. "The weapons will need good homes, spread 'em out across every safe house and bolt-hole you know of. We all know what happens when you stockpile this stuff under one roof."

"Where's Raven?"


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