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FIRE AND FURY
One might be forgiven for thinking Billy led them to Hell.
An inferno engulfs their immediate surroundings, in part thanks to a building on fire and, around it, the thick greenery of a tropical landscape meeting the jade waters of the Gulf of Tonkin. Hot and stinking of charred metal, blazing oil, and pork chop sandwiches, welcome to Quang Yen.
Through a screen of sparks and black, oily smoke, figures move in chaotic choreography; some are hunched and mincing, others moving in precise lockstep through the billowing gloom. Low structures scattered higgledy-piggledy around crooked streets too close together make an excellent route for the fire to chase, and there's plenty of broken glass and rubble to go with a sonic boom overhead. The faster-thinking personnel send shots into the sky, at least those not ripped apart by the heavy machine guns atop the fab four armoured personnel carriers. To say nothing of the mobile anti-aircraft batteries or the assassins prowling the streets to seek their quarry.
It takes a very sharp eye indeed to notice one of the jets banking hard to most likely avoid a violation of Chinese airspace about 150 kilometers away. Or the pilot's coming back around to take more shots while his buddies strafe the sea.
"Fuck," mutters the Master of Kung Fu.
Billy was expecting things to be bad, but this is a little bit more Fire and Brimstone then he was expecting. "Holy shitmonkey on a pogo stick." He makes a pointed move towards being Behind Teddy, "Ahem! Aim across long distances I've never been to is slightly inexact, err, sorry! Fire, bad." Ahem. Still, he's going to follow Teddy out of it, but as he does so he rises up a foot into the air— which doesn't make him stand out a lot, but he's a lot more…reactive, when flying. He's got way more telekinetic dexterity then he has reflexes.
This is just ten thousand kinds of weird. But war is war, and war is what he knows. So that odd, icy calm that can't wholly be attributed to the Winter Soldier descends on him. He no longer looks dismayed or grim or anything at all. Only the blue eyes are alive with calculation, taking in what he knows of what assets they have. Turning to Coulson again he says, "Primary objective is finding the agent in place and removing him via the teleporter, right? Failing that…." HE trails off in what passes for delicacy. Failing that and cyanide, Sill may end up his most recent SHIELD victim.
Carol glances over at Coulson, "Want me to run interference? I can definitely keep these people tied up." She then flashes a quick grin to Bucky, letting him wonder exactly HOW she's going ot keep effectively an armor company all tied up and busy…
Mouth ajar, Coulson rubs at his eyes once the cacophony of transit fades into the lesser hell that is Quang Yen. His chest rises and falls with a quickened pace, for no one who's never experienced such form of travel could truly be ready for it. It takes him a few moments to steady himself, not to mention the spinning of his head, but the blazing fire not far from them is first to draw his eye. "Everyone sound off!" he calls out, instructing those who came from the Triskelion ti sound off their presence.
Turning to Bucky, he answers, "That's right. We need to find a staging area, get away from his fire. Then we can split up. Bucky, Teddy, keep track of those supplies 'til we get there!"
Once they've found a good staging area, they'll be able to disperse radios, and can split up. "First," he says to Carol, "find is a good staging area. We can use it as an evac point."
Sometimes when you go into ancient ruins, you touch things. It's a natural instinct. What's that? Let's touch it and find out. And then when you touch things, they turn on, because touch-screen technology is old-school for some civilizations.
Which is to say, there were Inhumans in ancient ruins, and they touched things.
The Genetic Council in Attilan picked up the scrambled broadcasts, and when they did, they sent their own team to investigate. At the moment, though, that team consists of one princess and a teleporting dog.
In the skies above the fire, Crystal and Lockjaw suddenly appear, Crystal summoning a wind to keep the both of them aloft as she tries to take in the scene. "So," she notes to Lockjaw. "I suppose that was an alarm."
Teddy can't help but duck at the sound of the first explosion being so close by. He really wasn't expecting to land in the middle of a combat zone. He should have been; he was listening to the radio along with the others but he didn't think Billy's put them down smack dab in the middle of it all. "Holy shit!" he yelps and drops the duffle of SHIELD field goodies. It's pretty much an instinctive response as he gains about a foot in height, almost as much in width (all of it muscle) and gets very, very green. "What?" he asks Coulson with a blink then glances down and picks up the bag. "Oh, sorry."
|ROLL| Rogue +rolls 1d20 for: 7
|ROLL| Rogue +rolls 1d5 for: 2
|ROLL| Rogue +rolls 1d100 for: 8
Much further than a foot into the air runs the risk of being choked by burning oil clouds, flaming palm trees, or any number of other hazards. The cracking boom of a plane reaching high velocities rattles overhead, while another cuts in from an easterly trajectory to drop its payload on the port (#4). Unfortunately dropping bombs isn't exactly accurate when one's strafing the coastline and avoiding the anti-aircraft guns mounted in oddly strategic spots around the bay. Crackling retorts explode, most of them too late. None stop the missiles shot on the run nor the incendiaries tumbling down just south of the warehouse (#3) where a multitude of SHIELD agents admire their ability to cross maps fast.
Lockjaw whines unhappily. The burning smell of porkchop sandwiches and oil is not pleasant to his nose.
Civilians being herded, or fleeing after the herd, largely retreat to the concrete-reinforced facility with the most size in the vicinity(#1). There's a few men helping them in, though one or two unceremoniously drag out some individuals to one of the armored-personnel carriers stationed in the street. Almost everyone's dressed in similar dull green and brown clothes, even the thirty Buckies roaming around. ALL the Buckies. Suspiciously quiet, not Vietnamese men abound.
Several more civilians are cowering against the wall at the nearer, low building currently aflame (#2). With visibility absolutely atrocious, it's hard for anyone to see past ten feet tops.
Shang-Chi decides to focus on the individuals harassing the civilians. He isn't likely to pick up a machine gun or a rocket launcher - not that he isn't capable, but it isn't his style and they would be better left in more optimal hands.
The chaos and suddenness might have jarred him at first but, after all, life is a sudden thing, an intake of breath, a sharp thorn in the side when you least expect it. Much like the foot he intends to put in the face of some very ill-behaved enemies in short order. "I will attempt to help the innocent. But there is a plane coming from the east, American by the markings," he says to Coulson's cry for order, his dark eyes sharp as a hawk as they sweep towards the horizon.
Bombs are no bombs, people are in harm's way and Shang is going to help. And if the wheel of dharma puts a Bucky into his way, so be it.
Jesus H Christ, there they are. Clones or decoys or Skrulls who just liked his face….it's like discovering he's got some weird family of his own, more than two dozen twin brothers. That calm facade is cracked in shock….and then Buck's rummaging in the bag of tricks to find a little bit of cord to tie and knot his hair back with. There's no time for an impromptu haircut to make him match his brethren, but if he can pass for at least an instant or two after stealing someone's fatigues…not to mention actual weaponry. "Once we've got a staging area, I can pass for one of the soldiers, if I can find one…" Smoke and fire make for perfect concealment. Shang clearly knows how to handle himself in a fight. "Up for helping me?" he asks, even as his own gaze is trying to keep track of their immediate environment. Carol gets a thumbs up - encouragement, though Coulson's the one giving the actual orders.
Carol blinks at the building on fire, and suddenly is gone in a flash, heading towards the building (#2) currently wreathed in flames. She concentrates a bit, sparkling motes of light forming around her… and the fires just seem to go out, almost like they're being drawn into her somehow. Then she glances up towards the sky, "Guys, incoming pretty damn fast! GET TO COVER!"
The warning from a blonde woman doesn't really register with a few shellshocked survivors of the first bombing run. They are lucky to even sit up or hold their guts in. Cinders fly on the air while one of the sheltering civilians in plainclothes - green jacket, brown ensemble - wordlessly pulls a semi-automatic pistol to fire at her.
Agent Coulson darts his head eastward, toward the port. A moment passes, enough for Shang-Chi to make his report. "Move out!" he shouts, and immediately begins running after Shang-Chi, trusting the others will follow suit. This leads them toward building #2. Coulson grimaces at the sounds in the air, sounds he knows well; sounds that remind him of the Pacific so many years ago. "Barnes," he calls, and reaches out to snatch the duffle from the Winter Soldier, freeing him up to fight, rather than worry about their gear.
Not more than a moment later, he hears something on the air, and dives for cover behind a shelled out vehicle.
From her own vantage point, Crystal can see the team moving in. Carol she recognizes, but the rest are less familiar…although there's something about the man pulling his hair back that tugs at her memory, another memory of fire and death. Still, wherever they're going already has attention. "Lockjaw, keep an eye on them," she directs the dog. "Evacuate if it's needed." Sending him to assist, she flies down toward the port (#4) where smaller ships are being loaded with something, intent on finding out what it is that's worth being evacuated from this fire.
Teddy doesn't have a camera around his neck but he's clearly playing tourist. It's his first combat zone and he's just trying to take it all in, while clearly not worrying about anything that might be heading his way. That is, until he spots the plane. "Incoming!" he shouts. "Billy, TK shield!"
Billy shoves at Teddy's shoulder, "He said move out. She said get to cover. Don't just stand there, I'm using *you* as cover. Go!" He throws up a band of force above him and pushes out with all of his might, "There is *no way* my TK can hold back heavy fire from a plane! Go go go." But he tries to push out to at least maybe divert any bullets that come their way.
In the port… manic activity convulses those teams of workers barely into the morning shift. It's only 0900 local time. Those who can race two or three at a time with crates and boxes, overseen by stone-faced men who speak orders rather than bark them. The chain forming to a series of motorboats on the congested inland water way hurries the process along, and they largely ignore the fires raging along the oil drums and docks where larger oceangoing ships moor. Every couple of minutes, one of the rickety small craft roar off. Half as many go south as north, using the cover of Hoang Tan Island to make a run for the coast. Most of the boxes have no kind of labels on them. Their size varies from breadbox to coffin.
In Quang Yen… there's no sign of where Agent Sill may be holed up. He never provided exact details and the SHIELD tech teams couldn't triangulate better. It won't matter, though, as one of those missiles rockets into the ground and detonates, leaving a crater where a number of flimsy buildings once stood. Firebombed Tokyo or Dresden aren't a little unlike this place, in miniature. Flames roar into the air. The other Caucasians around flinch or react with great speed, dropping to the ground or darting out of the way, disappearing into the hovels and running out the other side. Everyone scatters where they can.
He was never in the Pacific, not in that war, anyhow. But the warning from Shang Chi and Coulson is enough to have Bucky finding cover as best he can. Only once it seems to've passed does he prairie-dog up again - trying to see if he can find one of the enemy downed to deal with. C'mon. Someone out there among the fallen has to have a weapon he can grab, clothes he can steal. The missile, however, has him diverted for a moment. "I think we just lost Sill," he observes to Coulson, even as he scans for opportunities. He's out here with no weapon other than that arm, and it feels awful. "Can you raise him?" he asks the HMFIC.
Carol Danvers glances back towards Bucky, "Here!" She looks at the soldier that's shooting at her, and just fires off an energy blast from her fist. Not enough to kill him, but it definitely incapacitates the soldier that was firing at her… hey, it's not that much of a gun, but it's a start as she shakes her head, looking around for more targets of opportunity.
Even while the explosion rattles the area, Coulson is fishing through the duffle bag. He comes out with a radio and a blast vest, the latter of which is quickly strung over his shoulder one handed, while the other brings the radio to life. He quickly keys in the frequency bands that were memorized back in New York. No longer does he grimace, but now, he carries the expression of a man who has, in fact, seen battle.
Peering out from the bombed vehicle, he calls over to Bucky. "Trying," he says, and shrugs the other shoulder into that blast vest while pinging out over the frequency ranges. "Coulson, raising Boxer. Boxer, do you copy, over?"
He's trusting the others to battle for now, instead choosing to observe what he can of the surroundings from behind cover.
The people loading smaller boats are entirely too calm for what's happening right now. Crystal hangs back, but she has no intention of letting these people escape from here with whatever it is they're trying to take away. But how to stop them without alerting them? Taking cover behind a larger crate, she sinks her awareness into the soil below the water, starting to work on building it up around where the boats are docked, but still keeping it beneath the surface. Turning a port into a mud pit.
"I can take it." Teddy tells Billy as he moves quickly for cover. Probably. "They can't. Keep Coulson and the others safe too." Taking a quick look around, he leaps for cover. Though he'll withstand a blast better than the burnt vehicle will. "If you can't stop the bombs, try to change their direction."
"That's…" Billy gives up on keeping with Teddy, and instead zips off towards Coulson, keeping a shield up above him— it's not at all the match for the kind of firepower that ends up on airplanes, but he angles it to ideally just divert some flying lead a little bit, "I'm of limited effectivenss verses missiles." he admits to the Agent, but otherwise makes to follow.
Carol's blast knocks back her assailant, gun flying from his hand. He goes bouncing down the road. Though staying there for long? She'd better have gauged properly.
A diminished crowd flees into the largest concrete lab (#1). Debris litters the front yard, and six to nine people covering their heads run for the APCs parked close by. They're escorted or in twos and threes, stumbling as they're dragged effortlessly by the arm to relative safety. Bucky, and to some degree Coulson, are far too likely to see the military efficiency in their evacuation.
Not far beyond, Katyusha rocket launchers crawl along and take aim at the skies, their drivers scanning through the smoke for any signs of action for a retaliatory strike.
Crystal has a low-lying island to deal with, one fed by a river, but reinforced by concrete, stones, and much more. There's a headache waiting to happen as she starts to inundate the topsoil with seawater and river water. No one around her even notices. Viet Cong keep the assembly lines moving, even through the shouting. Another boat's off and headed around the northern front. The southern route between the mainland and the island is getting too congested and smoky.
No signs of any missiles but those F8s and other planes move at great speed and it's only a matter of time until they or their buddies show up. Billy and Teddy have some ease moving through without being overwhelmed on the ground, smoke and cinders everywhere, but it's still stinking, hot, and chaotic.
It's a mark of the callousness that the Russians succeeded in inculcating that Bucky does nothing at all to check the status of the man Carol just knocked down for him - the pistol's the target. Just so long as the guy doesn't try to fight him. The Soldier snags the pistol as swiftly as he can, before returning to Coulson's side. "If we don't raise Sill, AGent, what's the objective? Withdrawal?" he asks, tone almost conversational. Even that little sortie's enough to have him begrimed with smoke. "Or do we recce and see what those fuckers are up to?" The light in his eyes should be enough to make Coulson wary, the glow of what looks distinctly like pleasure… let alone the automatic in his right hand and the lack of distance between him and that set of apparent clones. He could, if the Winter programming takes over, run for their ranks. Or if there's someone handy who knows the right words.
Carol Danvers flies low to the ground, energy coalescing around her fists as she says in Russian, "Hello boys!" She then fires off an area burst of energy, intending to knock the clones flat… frankly, this is war. If she hits too hard, well, that's the cost of war. But she's not trying to kill them, so much as just make sure she knocks them out for the count.
|ROLL| Rogue +rolls 1d20 for: 17
|ROLL| Carol Danvers +rolls 1d20 for: 17
Shang-Chi's contribution has been largely silent, much as he'd prefer it, usually. He moves with alacrity and precision, choosing his targets and breaking them quickly - a blow here, a strike to a nerve cluster, a sudden disarmament. Such things are usually done in shadows, with the element of surprise. THat he does it while looking his opponents in the eyes is a simple testament to his skill.
His line of thinking is similar to Carol's, even if it's unspoken. Which means, when he's satisfied with his work, he intends to make it his purpose to capture one of the duplicates alive.
Looking to Teddy, Coulson breathes a sigh of relief, and his eyebrows flash upward. "Glad to have you with me, in any case," he answers. Going back to the radio, he makes attempts again. "Repeat, Coulson to Boxer, do you copy?"
He lowers the radio, about to resign, when suddenly it sparks to life.
"*PSSSHHHT* hell have you b*CRRRK*, Coulson? Why the fuck aaaaaaazzzRRRT icans bomb—- *PSSHT* me the fuck out of here!"
There's your answer, Bucky.
Coulson lifts the radio again, eyes wide. "Boxer!"
"A — nn tell me about that fucking pill!"
"Copy that, we're coming to you."
"Well hurry the fuck *PSSHT*"
"Keep your line open, I'll triangulate!"
Coulson dives into the duffle bag again, eyes glancing from Teddy to Bucky. "Barnes." He produces a small tracking device. "Those clones of yours? Get this onto one of them." Next, he produces a small attachment which gets plugged into the ass end of the radio; thank goodness for high tech SHIELD R&D. It's a device designed to triangulate a signal, using sonar-like beeps that quicken in pace as the radio moves closer to the source signal.
"Swear to God, Coulson," the radio squawks. "*PSSHZHT* smoke everywhere. Building's on f*PSSHT*"
"Copy, Boxer," Coulson reports into the radio, then looks to Teddy and Billy. "You guys, with me." He points toward the group of buildings that have begun to burn (#3), then moves from cover and starts running, head low, toward those buildings. The radio beeps and chirps as he goes; he'll rely on its pace to determine whether he's getting warmer or colder.
"Lockjaw." Crystal calls for the dog from her cover, still focusing on blocking in as many of the ships as she can. "Fetch one of those ships and the cargo. Just port it back to the mansion. In and out, clear?" If she can't stop all of them, if these ships and people escape, at least they should have something to tell them what was being done here. Still, she's not giving up on stranding the would-be escapees. Bracing herself, she continues to push earth into the port to trap them.
Teddy nods at Coulson's instructions, hanging back a bit to cover their flank and also to keep an eye on what's around them. As he moves, he picks up a few fists sized pieces of rubble to use as projectiles. "Holler if you see anything." he tells Billy.
Billy flies after Coulson: though considering he's keeping close to the ground it could be seen as if he's running. He's just faster and more agile in the air. He keeps his hand up still, to try to maintain the moving semi-shield over both him and Coulson, "Roger." he confirms the instruction itself.
There are at least two dozen Faux-ckys in the process of forcible evacuations. They do not engage with random citizens beyond shoving them out of the way or tossing them into the river. Two dozen give or take. One is stunned on the ground, and two more threatened by Carol again with her unfair advantage of glowing beams of light. One may have disappeared through a door when Shang-Chi tapped him in the neck and elsewhere, revealing a glint of metal. Don't ask about that stunned man in the corner. The upsetting part? Their eyes are cold and focused, without remorse, even when convulsed in pain.
Subsequent bursts have a risk, given the escorts for the civilians from the lab facility (#1) literally hold onto them. At least one of those civilians becomes a shield, taking a beam through the chest. A rattle of twin heavy machine guns from the APC turns on Carol and retorts loudly and noisily, firing wide. Stray bullets bounce off the shield Billy holds up, and Teddy and the SHIELD agent getting an earful. From there, it's plainly apparent none of the soldiers are engaging directly.
Russian might be heard briefly squawking from speakers at the lab and the facilities, and a few other intact buildings clustered nearby. Two words, bleated back to back.
"Longing."
"Rusted."
|ROLL| Bucky +rolls 1d10 for: 10
A whuffling sound that probably translates into "Where is my roast beef?" comes from the faithful hound. But Lockjaw's shadow vanishes off the ground as he disappears and roams through the ether, reappearing atop a rickety boat with an outboard motor completely drowned by the addition of several hundred pounds of dog. The craft starts to sink into the jade waters, the startled crew of one shouting profanities and curses in Vietnamese. How the hell is he going to explain this when he's flailing atop a sunken boat, its cargo vanished, and no culprit in sight?
Just the permission he's waiting for. A little salute from Bucky, and he's vanishing off into the smoke to find one of his unfortunate brothers. Which one was foolish enough to take up position out of sight and sound of the main mass of the…..herd? pack? flock? whatever the collective noun for a group of Barneses and leave himself vulnerable to attack. These pups can't have the sheer experience of the original, no matter how hard they've been trained.
Then there are those words, echoing around the inside of his skull like a ricocheting bullet, and he stiffens. There's a spike of sheer panic, like being stabbed with an icicle, and his heart all but seizes. Then he's on the radio with Coulson…or at least, there's an attempt to. "Coulson, Barnes. I'm about to be compromised. Assume I'm a hostile from now on. Over." He's got a brief span of seconds before that programming kicks in….enough to go for the nearest Winter Soldier, not scorning the element of surprise. He pounces on the unfortunate replica, trying to land the tracker before his brain more or less shuts off.
Shang-Chi is focused on his own personal battle with one of the duplicates. Separating Bucky's errant DNA from the herd, Shang must use his focus to its utmost. The cybernetic element provides an additional challenge, along with the programming, robbing the Soldiers of the traditional nervous system responses. Their training is so soulless and artificial that it actually disgusts Shang-Chi, like watching a beautiful butterfly reduced to a husk, an undead wretch that mimics beauty with none of its meaning.
He pays a price for the battle, too, in bruised ribs and a slash across the side of his neck, like to leave a scar. But he'll keep fighting, flesh against steel, his Zen focus cutting out the rest of the world.
Keeping close to Teddy and Billy, Coulson flinches when one of those bullets comes too close for comfort, before flicking off the telekinetic shield and into the dirt. He follows the tracking device with accuracy, adjusting his movements with even the smallest change in chirping pace. The squawking of those loudspeakers furrows his brow; he's fluent in Russian, of course, and the words make no sense. At least, until Bucky's report. He slows for a moment, eyes going wide. "Oh no." The radio is whipped up to his face and clicked to life. "Danvers! Knock out those damn speakers, fast!" He lowers the radio and jerks a head in Billy's direction. "Drop the shield."
Up comes his firearm, and he takes aim at one of those loudspeakers, barely visible through the smoke and debris. Exhale, squeeze the trigger. Regardless of whether his shot is true, he's quick to take off again. "Shield!" he calls to Billy, and resumes his pace toward the ultimate target, wherever that honing device is leading them.
Things are going…poorly, it seems. But Lockjaw's earned himself a serious treat when Crystal gets back to the mansion for rescuing at least some of the components. As things start to fall apart, though, Crystal abandons the subtlety of her earlier approach. Mud has built up enough to be an impediment - bedrock is even better. She takes a deep breath, then rises from her cover, arms raised with a shout as she tries to pull the stone itself from the water, to wall in the remaining ships and cargo.
Carol blinks, recognizing the words as she launches into action. First, she secures Bucky by picking him up, holding him easily in one arm in a very tight grip, "Bucky, if you wanted me to pick you up, just send roses." She then aims for the speakers with her free hand, blasting them to ribbons while trying something new. That is to say… absorbing the sound coming from the ones she can't reach to blast right away.
Sure, it's a longshot, but she needs to keep Bucky sane at least a little longer…
Teddy goes home.
At Coulson's instruction, Billy closes his hand to indicate the shield is off— its not needed— but since the shield isn't visible, some sort of show of if its on or not is useful. When the shield is called again, he opens his hand so its held outwards once more, but if there's speakers? Electricity suddenly arcs down his other arm, and as it gathers in his hand held in a claw, a hand which flings out— and a lightning bolt strikes out towards one such. "I used to think I was Zeus' grandson." he explains with a certain odd tone: he's excited and afraid all at once, but keeping it together. There nervous energy is held squarely in check, as if he'd done stuff like this for quite awhile, despite being barely out of diapers.
One of the APCs not shooting at Carol and the SHIELD company careens off, having obtained one passenger of any value. Inside a scientist slumps to the floor and clutches his head, shaking uncontrollably. Overhead, three streaking shapes race along the coast, dropping another pair of missiles at the port (#4).
"Furnace."
The pilots are drawn no doubt by the hive of maritime activity. The muck created by Crystal has already substantially slowed escape, and boats unable to get far simply have to be handled another way: their contents thrown overboard if it comes down to it. Gotta escape that wet doggy smell. There are terrified shouts at the stone wall suddenly where none were before.
"Daybreak."
Gunshots don't do much to metal, but they can interrupt one dispatch or garble it. Brilliant violence erupts where offered, by anyone they can reach. At that point, whether it's a civilian in the way or Shang-Chi actively hunting them, they're motivated to take down anyone standing between them and the three-storey lab. The super-soldiers with gloved hands and plain clothes break into brutal, efficient punches, kicks, and blocks. Krav maga informs those fluid blows as much as boxing or taekwondo. And, all the more alarmingly, where they can, they converge in pairs that needle defenses, lashing out. Programming for the Winter Soldier goose is good for his ganders.
"Seventeen. Benign."
The tracer guides them around the concrete lab (#1) where, ironically, the thickest concentration of Faux-ckys is. How to tell one from another? A speaker explodes. Is that a radio shoved up to a window? Another on its side but still operating? It is. How many of those are embedded around Quang Yen? Probably enough for the Friendship Viet-Soviet Sausage Festival of 1964.
He's done what he can, verbally. Coulson and the rest of the SHIELD team knows. Which is why it's okay if he screams now, right? Bucky's fighting, surrounded by those men in plain clothes, deft, efficient, brutal…and outnumbered. There's only the one mag for the pistol, and it's swiftly emptied, leaving it a blunt trauma weapon to pistolwhip his opponents with.
What a puzzle he has to be - did one of the faux Buckies have a breakdown? Or how did the original get here?
But he is screaming like an animal in a trap. Not orders, requests, or pleas, but sheer incoherent rage. He can feel the words settling on him like weights, bearing down, starting to obliterate all that hardwon independence of mind.
Then Carol's got him, and he stops fighting, at least for the moment. He's shaking like he's about to seize up….but at least she's shielding him from the sound, for the moment.
Shang-Chi recognizes the only way to overcome the artificial warrior's vicious offense is to succumb to it. He takes a blow from a metal-infused arm, sacrificing his own body to capture the limb. He falls back with the force of it, dragging his opponent on top of him. Limbs bend and grapevine, trapping that arm and grinding Shang-Chi's shin into the man's throat as he slips into a triangle choke.
Applied properly, Shang can black out an ordinary man this way in less than ten seconds, a cluster of nerves around the windpipe shutting down the brain in self-defense. This enemy may be more resistant to such methods, however. But the Master of Kung Fu is nothing if not persistent.
The display of arcing electricity draws an idea to Coulson's mind. He turns to Billy, grasping his arm. "Loudspeakers. There'll be cable, connecting them to a source. Can you find it, the source, and fry it?" It's a long shot, but if they're to get out of here without sacrificing Bucky again, it may be their only shot.
Back at it, Coulson comes draws up near Building #1, looking around. The tracking device on his radio is beeping rapidly; Sill should be around here somewhere. He lifts the radio and calls, "Coulson to Boxer, come in?"
That's when he sees the radios propped up against a window. He blinks, and notices another on the ground, then another, and another… His expression turns dark and he stops looking. "Shit. They've got him."
Here's hoping the agent had the cajones to eat that pill.
Carol isn't taking any chances, flying low and fast away from the immediate area towards the sea. Sure, it's a problem since she's the Heavy Artillery of the group, but her focus right now is on making sure Bucky doesn't lose himself again as she says, "I've got you James! You're not going to lose yourself again!" She keeps him in a tight enough grip that… well, she's not worried at all about him breaking loose as she says over the com to Coulson, "Bucky secured, repeat Bucky secured, but I'm out right now!" She's on the lookout for a safe spot to set down, away from the radios and everything else as she keeps Bucky held in that grip of hers.
Billy looks uncertainly at Coulson, but his expression firms up, "I can try. Cover me." He closes his eyes, and crouches to the nearest cover, and draws his hands together. Electricity arcs between his fingers and a surge of ball lightning forms between his hands, and he reaches out, searching out the conduits and following them to their source. He then slams his hands together and there is a loud CRACK that reverberates through the area as he sends what he hopes is an overload through the system to the source of the loudspeakers.
|ROLL| Rogue +rolls 1d100 for: 31
With the equipment and men at least no longer escaping elsewhere, Crystal turns her attention to the chaos of the fight on the other side of the flames, taking to the air to join the SHIELD agents. Granted, with Carol out of the picture, it's not entirely certain that any of them will recognize her, but at least she can help to keep the rest of the soldiers off of their backs.
Poor Lockjaw may not know when he's supposed to stop. One giant, wet dog is splashing around and making a foul mess of a house in New York. Such that the boxes magically appearing and piling up are in severe danger of collapsing the floor if said floor is above ground level. He perks an ear on the next blip through space back onto another boat grounded on a wall. His appearance breaks the fishing boat's back while he paws at a crate. Lockjaw, levelling up as a rogue!
To the far northeast, black smoke bubbles on the horizon in even greater quantity than in Quang Yen. The city of Ha Long is an inferno along the waterfront.
Billy's hit on the electricity around them is immediate and loud. Lights go out. The battered infrastructure isn't up to a surge at the best of times. Loudspeakers go out, and whatever broadcasts to the radios littered all over mostly goes out.
"Nay…"
Pinned down civilians and Viet Cong soldiers take their chances. Maybe a few slip into the water or crawl overland to shelter by rubble. Those left to fight do so with ferocious brutality, giving not one shit about life. If they can break a neck, they will. Those pulled back to the other vehicles that function in any capacity are devoted to exfil.
Bucky is unashamedly clinging to Carol like a baby monkey. That was too close a call. "We've got to get back to Coulson," he tells her, urgently. "And get the fuck out of here. EVen with your abilities, we're outnumbered. And we've gotta get one of those clones or whatever they are."
Ask and ye shall receive.
Shang-Chi emerges from the chaos, sweaty and bloodied. Over one of his shoulders, the unconscious carcass of one of Bucky's errant alternate selves. He's a heavy SOB and, conditioned as Shang-Chi is, the Chinese warrior is already tired of carrying him.
He reaches Coulson with a grim look on his face. This didn't go as well as planned - but, then, there wasn't a great deal of planning either. "We should go," he says simply.
"We're in the thick of it now," Coulson tells Teddy and Billy, hearing report that Danvers is leaving the theatre with Barnes in tow. He'll give Billy this one shot, but as soon as the lightning is away, he's calling it. "That's it, evac time. Shang-Chi!"
He's about to jump on the radio, when Shang-Chi shows up with one clone in tow. Its enough to draw a smirk to his face, and he draws his weapon up to the ready. Finding a mark moving on them, he does what any trained SHIELD agent will do in a hot combat situation; he aims for the chest, squeezes the trigger, then bumps it up a notch to send a bullet toward the temple. They call this the 'one, two' in training, and it's designed to be quick and lethal. Following this, he begins backing up toward the wall of that building, hoping it will provide some cover.
"Danvers," he says on the radio, "we're at the tall building, south corner. 30 seconds and we're jumping out of here. Translation: move your ass."
Carol nods back towards Bucky, "Well, I guess you can see why I wasn't worried about being alone with you in that cell, huh?" She banks quickly, saying over the com, "Phil, when don't I?" She then kicks in the afterburners, holding Bucky tightly as she flies like a bullet towards Coulson's location, slowing down just enough to land in a crouch, making a pretty good crater when she lands. Though she did at least shift Bucky into a cradled grip so her knees take the impact without a fuss. Or a crunched ex-Winter Soldier. "This is a total Charlie Fox, we need to go."
Billy takes a deep breath, and follows Coulson in to the evac point, and immediately falls to his knees and closes his eyes, holding his hands out and concentrating. There's a certain tremble to his hands, and he waits until everyone is close and he says softly, "Safest place to hide." He clasps his hands together, the strain evident, "Safest. Place. To. Hide. SafestplacetohideSAFESTPLACETOHIDESAFESTPLACE. TO. HIDE!!!" At the end its a shout, and only at that moment does the world around them once more blur into indinstinct swirling as reality shifts aorund them.
They resolve into stillness in a very safe place.
It's the Triskelion. An interrogation room, in fact. Billy stumbles up, and moves over to the door, "I'm gonna throw up." And he tugs on the door, but its locked.
From the outside.
"Oh fudge me."
Crystal isn't far behind Carol as she tries to reach the agents, only to find herself a moment too late when Billy's already teleported hem out. Blinking, she shakes her head and whistles for Lockjaw. "Let's get out of here. Good work," she assures the giant, wet dog with a propeller between his jaws.
Better hope Mom's home from demon-hunting or Dad's stopped his judgmental scowling during his afternoon meditation session, Mr. Maximoff-Strange (nee Kaplan).
Because it's presently afterhours for most of the Triskelion staff and they might not even realize Coulson left. Get Tony Stark on those sensors for impending breaches.
IT's kind of a clown car situation there - all of these agents reappearing in one room. Buck overhears Billy's complaint, and he kicks the room's trashcan neatly to within reach. No throwing up.
Then he's detaching himself from Carol and turning to look at the other!Bucky they've captured. He's grimy and stinks of chemical smoke and fear sweat, but he can't resist coming closer to examine him.
Carol's landing kicks up a plethora of dirt and muck. Agent Coulson's suit was already dirty and torn, so this isn't much of anything, but some of the grime is kicked up onto his face, and the sheer force of it blows what little hair he has about.
Coulson holsters the sidearm, and crouches down with a hand pressed into the muddy earth. He looks on until the world shifts, then closes his eyes to prepare himself for the ride. It ought to be a little easier this time.
When they finally find themselves inside the interrogation room, he takes a moment to clear his head and stands up. He smoothes the suit jacket down with both hands, then takes stock of everyone with them. Even though they lost Sill, he's happy at least that they all came back, and in one piece. Especially Bucky. Well, the real Bucky.
He finally looks to Carol and quips, "You messed up my hair."
Carol looks back at Phil, and says simply, "You said you were in a hurry." She sounds completely deadpan about that too.
Melinda would be proud.