The Hunt.

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Sans_the_Medic
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Re: The Hunt.

Post by Sans_the_Medic » Thu Nov 29, 2018 8:20 pm

Horsehead took one final look over the crowd in front of him before sighing. "Ya know what fuck this, blame the girl for gettin' you into this mess folks; you're going to die." and he started firing. Accurate, concise; each bullet going to the right head as he picked off all those close first. However there weren't exactly infinite bullets in a dinky pistol so eventually his mag ran empty and the now very angry mob closed in. He pulled the catch on the T-doll.

The thing deployed to it's full extent, casting the cafe in a baleful green glow, causing the men and women to hesitate. And that would be the last hesitation they ever made as Joe grabbed the trigger and squeezes it. Nothing seems to happen for half a second befo-

BOOM BOOM BOOM

Beams of pure destructive energy lance out of the barrel, smoke and steam billowing out where water is immediately evaporated from the air. The beams cut holes the size of watermelons through people as the beams of what couldn't decide whether to be matter or energy tear into them and annihilate flesh and bone. But it doesn't stop there. No it lances through the wall, carving hole after hole through it and finally disperses a little into the street. The noise is immense, apocalyptic even. Under the mask, Joe smiles. The people never stood a chance.


...

After retracting the weapon into it's undeployed state, Joe looks out at his work. The cafe was unrecognisable; the floor covered in blood and steaming viscera, Holes seared into brick and plaster; tables on fire from the heat of the energy. "Oh. I like this one." He says, grabbing the duffel bag from the table he had been sitting at, along with his other guns. As he left the building he took another drink of his latte; almost casually shooting the filming bystander in the head. "It's illegal to film people without their permission, y'know?" He said, unaware that he had just said a one liner like some 80s action hero. He walked away from the scene, just like he would on any call he answered; but this time with a lot more in tow.
"Remember, no russian... Because I-I don't understand russian..." ~ Armour fairy
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illirica
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Re: The Hunt.

Post by illirica » Thu Nov 29, 2018 9:41 pm

Capacitor's projectile, rather than penetrating the darkness, shattered against it. That was... interesting. Unexpected. It wasn't just a cloak, then, but a shield. Lightning trawled along the outside of the sphere from the charge she'd placed into the ball bearing, failing to go through it. There weren't a lot of shields that could block both projectiles and electrical energy.

Well, she had known she was going into a difficult fight. This just upped the level of it somewhat. For a moment, there was a ripple in the magnetic field she'd pushed out above her, and she rolled backwards, taking cover behind an outcropping in the rooftop just in case the ripple precedented an attack - but no attack came, and she settled back in uneasily, trying to figure out anything more she could about the black shield. She loaded another ball bearing, sighting carefully at the area where the shield intersected the ground and fired it off, following the magnetic trace to see if there was a break in it somewhere that she could use to her advantage.

She wasn't alone for very long. A man walked out into the open, greeting her cheerfully.

"Hey! You're Capacitor, right?"

Most of the time. That wasn't the right response, though. The right response was a lot more simple than that: "Yes." It wasn't as if she wasn't easily identifiable, after all. There was no sense denying it. She'd been a public superhero for years. She looked over the newcomer - recognizable. One of Alpha's game tokens as well, which either meant that he was trying to get close enough to kill her, or that he was willing to work with her against Alpha. She was wary, but decided to talk first, as usual. "Know anything about this barrier?"

She wasn't sure if the barrier was related to Aplha's game, or if it was part of something larger. There'd been the nuclear explosion. She had more to worry about than games. She needed to be a hero. Who protects the heroes, I wonder? There should have been someone on scene to handle the reactor issue. The Front Line, maybe. They would have been quite well equipped to handle the reactor issue, and likely Alpha besides.

They weren't here though. She was. So was this stranger. Trusting him would be a mistake, of course. She glanced at him, then moved to the edge of the building, closer towards the shield. Her fingers moved, rolling another ball bearing into her palm and charging it up.

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Deterrence
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Re: The Hunt.

Post by Deterrence » Thu Nov 29, 2018 10:38 pm


The sound of the ceiling freezing over brought Jason to a halt, his knees bending instinctively at the sign of danger. He sprang backwards from the hostages as Black Ice fell through, initiating a full backflip in the face of danger. His empty palm pressed off against the ground, catapulting him away from the armored titan who now stood in the middle of a pile of frozen gore. Jason grunted as he completed the maneuver, which was far more difficult with only one hand. The strain would be immense without the Miracle suit supplementing his strength.

He came down hard, booted feet colliding with the floor. A shiver ran up his back, and his face burned, as though it'd been punctured by a thousand tiny knives. The unprotected eye watered. He had been on the very edge of Black Ice's freezing field, which had sapped the very heat from his flesh. He'd have frostbite for sure. His skin was now as blue as the hostages' had been, before they'd been...shattered in front of their very eyes.

"She d-d-doesn't p-p-pay you enough," he retorted, squinting through the frigid air. How had he made it so cold so quickly? His Third Eye warned him that temperatures in Ice's immediate vicinity had dropped to absolute zero for a fraction of a second. He was a metahuman. Getting near that field would be fatal no matter what. He was thankful for his suit's ability to keep him warm.

As Black Ice's gun settled on their position, Jason launched himself into an evasive roll to the right, over towards the exit. The basement was big, but not big enough to fight Black Ice in. He barely noticed the wide blast of nitrogen gas, though it licked at the outside of his shell-like armor. Again he felt as though he'd been shot, the pain on his exposed skin from the cold stabbing through his mind and disrupting his focus. But now it was his turn to retaliate.

Jason hadn't loaded his armor-piercing spiral rounds, but he had something that might serve him even better. The homing bullets of his custom rifle could be set to impact precisely at one point on a target - in this instance, he used his Third Eye to select Black Ice's glass-covered head. Reinforced glass might be able to stand up to one bullet, but a dozen in quick succession could punch through nearly any conventional matter.

Raising his own weapon in response, he fired off a barrage of homing shots, each round angled upwards towards his foe's armored skull. The first shot wouldn't penetrate - he was counting on the next dozen to accomplish that. Simultaneously, he retreated towards the door, looking to get out of the dangerous situation he'd found himself in.

He decided owl-guy could find his own way out, if he managed to avoid the crossfire.


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Akhilleus
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Re: The Hunt.

Post by Akhilleus » Thu Nov 29, 2018 10:50 pm

Akhilleus.

A single word. An epithet, designed to summarize the persona of Hector Williams. It hadn't been his idea, originally— rather, it was at his mother's suggestion that he assumed the name. When people heard the title Akhilleus, they thought of the Greek hero and warrior. They thought of the near-invincible demigod whose combat prowess was only challenged by his temper and ego.


Forever quarreling is dear to your heart, and wars and battles;
And if you are very strong indeed, that is a god's gift.

The first time he'd heard the name, it had been at the public library. Despite his average intelligence, Hector enjoyed reading; of course, it was mostly violent, gore-filled books, but at least he read, unlike most of the kids at his public school. His preference for the malevolent had led him to ask the librarian for something containing that subject matter. Something cool, something of epic proportions.

The librarian took his wording literally.

So, he'd come to find the name Akhilleus in the sizable epic poem in which he'd appeared as the main character: the Iliad. Williams learned about the man's nearly indomitable will and strength, and he learned about his insatiable bloodlust and thirst for revenge.

There was, of course, one aspect of the story he'd remembered the most.


The Wrath of Akhilleus.




Hector's eyes opened to darkness. There was a crushing weight upon his chest— a concrete pillar, the broad side of which was heavily scorched and cast in a soft verdant afterglow. The air was completely silent, save the distant hum of the radioactive cloud that hung over the area.

Williams flexed a hand, lifting it upward. He found that he could do it with minimal effort and gripped the side of the pillar, pushing it skyward as he heaved himself out if the wreckage that surrounded him.

Again, the effort was slight. The fact that he could claw his way from this much debris was the first sign of something being wrong.

There was no silence, anymore, as the pillar was pushed off and a night breeze brushed upon Hector's skin. The air around him was black as pitch, soft mutterings of orange and crimson writhing across the night sky as fire raged in the heavens above. An aftermath of the explosion, no doubt.

It didn't feel real. All of this felt— it felt wrong, like he shouldn't be here. Like this was a bad dream.

Like he was in hell.
A distant rumble of thunder shook the ashen rocks upon the ground. The cry of distant sirens struggled to permeate the thick air of smoke, of death that had clouded around Williams. Was all of Manhattan like this? Did he fail?

Did he die?

There was the instinctive thought to cough, but the urge was absent. He felt... fine. Greater than he'd felt in a long time, actually— and that was what scared him. The fact that after all this had happened, after the shockwaves, the fire, the very earth around him vaporizing and turning to ash, he was completely, utterly fine.

A ringing in his ears began to become achingly prevalent. Nearby surroundings burned into his mind, small after-images fading as he looked around the debris. There wasn't a living soul in sight; Hector dragged himself from the rubble, rocks sliding against his body as he unearthed himself. It quickly became apparent that his clothes had been completely vaporized from his body.

Slowly, Akhilleus' gaze drifted down to his hands.

The digits were charred completely black, the glow of reddened embers deep-set within his skin and muscle. The scorched flesh faded into the normal appearance of an arm just below the elbow. From a passing glance, one might've thought he was wearing gloves. There was an odd glow about them, too, when he brought them close to one another; they seemed to cast a barely visible green light onto one another's surface as the palms passed over blackened skin. Hector let out a low whimper as he brought a hand to his cheek, pressing the coal-like fingers into the skin.

The half of his face that had been slashed by the machine, it seemed, followed a fate similar to his hands. The surface felt chalky, as if he were raking his hand over charcoal. He could still see, so the damage was superficial.

He'd just live with it for the rest of his life, or have to get surgery.

They had to go for the fuckin' face...

Hector stumbled out onto ashen ground, looking to find his way out of the vortex of smoke and radiation the reactor's explosion had created.

First things first, he needed clothing.
Heroism is accessible. Happiness is more difficult.

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Deus Mortis
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Re: The Hunt.

Post by Deus Mortis » Sun Dec 02, 2018 9:59 pm

Muscles already at the ready within Noctua’s legs sprang into action upon seeing the man turn with his gun in hand. His ears braced for the forceful barks that would erupt from the man’s pistol and bounce up and around the room’s walls. These gunshots would never come however as the understanding of who Noctua was had apparently been realized by Resolute.

Springing to his feet and moving his hand away from his throwing hands, Noctua would stare over at Rook. Slight embarrassment could be seen on Noctua’s expression, though thankfully, it was hidden behind the Owler Suit’s mask. Now with his face on full display for Noctua to see, he would recognize the Unknown Ace as a fellow contestant within Alpha’s Hunt, along with being someone who was also interested in her hostages just as Garrick was.

”Yeah, I’m not a big fan of being put into some battle royale. Go figure.” Noctua responded, using his own enhanced senses to try and get a read on the situation at hand. The room was cold, past uncomfortable and nearing freezing levels, but that much was obvious. Cold, labored breaths. Beating hearts. Tell tale signs of life. All of them were thankfully alive. Now, it was all a matter of getting them out of here…

”Name’s Noctua. That’s my alias anyways. My parents would be cruel people if that were my real name.” The Paragon said, hoping to offer a sliver of levity to the situation. His goal was nearly complete. The lives of a group of citizens was almost secure. If there was a time to start showing some happiness, it’d be now. ”I’m not seeing any traps anywhere. Might be-”

Noctua stopped, his ear all but physically twitching as a noise began from the floor above.

There, he heard it, now much louder than before. This was something new. Something Noctua had never heard before.

The sound of wood, metal, and apartment wiring freezing over was a strange sound to add to his collection of different stimuli. For a moment, Noctua stood froze-. For a moment, Noctua stood still as he searched around the move for any traps either of the two could have triggered. Unfortunately, he had been searching for the wrong thing.

Black Ice’s arrival caused Noctua to go into “action mode”, his body launching backwards before fluently transitioning into a roll. An encounter with an eager and dynamic criminal in his earlier days had left Noctua with a great wariness of explosive entries as well as a scar to remember the experience by. Thankfully, he had not been as close to Black Ice as his newfound ally had been and had thus been saved from feeling the Ice Cold Killer’s freezing aura. He would not, however, be saved from the sight of all of the hostages being absolutely frozen and then shattered.

In the span of a few seconds, Noctua went from being a dozen feet away from a group of living hostages to staring at their broken remains. He had utterly failed in his quest within the Hunt, now likely deemed a coward and a complete failure in the eyes of the Pack. And of the more critical analysts that would be tasked with reviewing the events that went down in the last few hours.

There was red when Noctua saw Black Ice. Not from his goggles or the odd buttons on his forearm, but within Noctua’s mind. In front of him stood a man working for a woman who had kidnapped various people from all walks of life and forced them to fight or die. There was little that could justify the things she’s done and the lengths she’s gone through to see them finished. There was little more than to be said for Noctua to know Alpha was a woman of malevolent intent. If he was to live up to his name as The Paragon, he’d need to fight to see such evil put behind bars. Which is exactly what he’d try to do.

Noctua’s body would go through a similar motion as his eyes settled on the gun-like object now active in Black Ice’s hand. With a drop of his body, Noctua would jump to the side, avoid the initial stream of nitrogen that came his way. The air around Noctua rapidly cooled to below zero degrees fahrenheit, a temperature he would be able to feel beneath his suit. He had unwisely assumed his opponent’s weapon functioned exactly like a gun, expecting the man to need to re-adjust his aim to set his sights on the Nocturnal Vigilante. It was only when he saw the stream persist and draw dangerously near that Noctua would roll out of the way, this time without emerging unscathed.

The right side of his torso had been splashed with nitrogen, causing the light armoring and material within Garrick’s suit to freeze almost instantaneously. Upon hitting the ground in his roll, pieces of his suit would immediately shatter on impact, proving to be too brittle and fragile to be able to hold against even the lightest of forces. The feeling of a numbing pain that simultaneously burned and chilled him to the bone had been too prominent for his mind to ignore, his eyes momentarily shooting down to look at his now-exposed side. The numbing cold at Garrick’s side threatened to overtake his mind, his head straining to make logical decisions. Beatings, cuts, gashes, and falls were feelings Noctua was now semi-used to. Being nearly frozen by liquid-nitrogen was not.

He’d grit his teeth at the pain, springing up to his feet right in front of a wall. While he was dealing with immediately avoiding another splash from Black Ice, Garrick’s new ally seemed to be going on the defensive, letting gunshots ring through the air and sending rounds fly towards the Frozen Man.

Noctua momentarily and mentally cringed at his ally’s immediate attempt at killing their adversary. Teaming up with other vigilantes was not a regular thing for Noctua, nor was seeing them actively shoot to kill criminals. Should he come back out of this alive, he’d get the feeling this would start becoming a common occurrence.

Using the wall in front of him, Noctua would run forward at it, taking a few steps on its vertical surface to gain some temporary elevation within the fight. As he did, Noctua would grab two of his throwing knives with each hand before throwing them towards his opponent. With one knife, Noctua had hoped to hit the odd buttons on the Kelvin Killer’s forearm gauntlet and with the other, lodge the knife within the man’s nitrogen-spewing gun. There would be a hiss of pain that’d leave Noctua’s mouth as he threw the knife heading for the man’s gun, the pain in his side having an affect on Noctua’s throwing accuracy. Such a shot would be difficult for Noctua on his normal days, and with his frozen wound? He could only hope he was lucky.

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Black Ice
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Re: The Hunt.

Post by Black Ice » Mon Dec 03, 2018 7:52 pm

"I am no petty mercenary, boy."

Black Ice didn't bother to so much as move, as the Rook fired his special bullets in his direction. They would have pierced his helmet, bulletproof glass or no, but that was far from the only barrier between his enemies and the armor itself.

Once the bullets were within about a yard of the Coldheart, his field triggered again. The bullets stopped short, their motion arrested by a sudden drop to the coldest possible temperature. As the field deactivated once again, they fell to the ground, and shattered.

"You'll have to try harder than--"

Before the Cryogenic Killer could finish speaking, another attack was launched. This time, a pair of blades. If it had been a second later, his field would have stopped them as well, but the strike was, whether consciously or no, timed near-perfectly with the other one. The first knife impacted in the barrel of his nitrogen cannon, a non-vital component, but nevertheless something that would require repair soon enough. The resulting spray of nitrogen froze the blade into place on the gun, a coating of ice making it seem more like an accessory than an attack. Noctua's second strike lodged itself in a panel of Black Ice's armor, which had automatically slid over his arm-mounted control panel. The machinery was undamaged, but it would need to be removed before he could access the panel again.

"--that." To punctuate the statement, he fired again- in Resolute's direction, but not directly at him. Rather, the pressurized nitrogen hit the door, first the handle, and then spreading to cover the entire thing. Rather than making the exit brittle and easy to get through, it was frozen so solidly that Carpenter would likely need a pick-axe to get through it. Or a gun.

"No running. This is your punishment."

He turned to Noctua, already wounded.

"Does it hurt? Allow me to numb the pain..."

The frigid villain fired another stream of nitrogen, this time aimed at the ground beneath Valeria. If the hero wasn't quick, he'd find himself frozen to the floor, but that wasn't quite the main intent of the attach. Unless his aim was altered, he'd cover nearly half the area's floor in ice, making traversal difficult for them, though trivial to him, given his friction-compensating boots.

Turning away from the Strigiforme hero, the Pack member fixed his thermal vision on Resolute. Walking slowly, his armor-plated suit preventing fast movement, he intended to close the distance between the Agent of Perseverance, getting him within the one-yard range of his absolute-zero field. Even if Resolute wasn't caught within, he'd continue following him, keeping the enemy moving, until he made a slip and allowed Black ice to freeze him out.

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Deterrence
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Re: The Hunt.

Post by Deterrence » Tue Dec 04, 2018 1:08 am


Jason had witnessed his bullets come to a complete halt mid-air then fall to the ground, as he'd been retreating with his back to the door. Narrowing his eyes in disbelief, he kept backtracking, intent on getting out of the highly dangerous situation as soon as possible. Noctua had engaged too, which would buy him time, but he didn't seem to be able to penetrate the suit's armor fully. In the meantime, though, he'd revealed a weakness of the suit's protective field - it couldn't handle a sustained barrage.

Almost at the door -

Black Ice hadn't been slowed down a bit. He raised his weapon and fired along Jason's path of movement, probably intending to catch him on his way out. Lunging out of the way, Jason dropped to another roll, dodging the pressurized jet of liquid nitrogen. It'd caught the door.

Dammit.

He was slowing down in the cold. Just being around Black Ice was draining his energy, his explosiveness reduced. Dodging another blast might just be impossible, and all it would take was one solid hit to put him out of commission. There was no blowing through that ice, either.

But the ceiling...

While Noctua had Black Ice's attention, Jason turned his rifle skyward, holding down the trigger to blow through the ceiling. The homing bullets carved out a gap in the wood, stone, and drywall, the light of the upper floors visible above. Just a crack...but it'd be enough.

Whipping his grapple gun up, he fired a projectile up through the hole he'd created, feeling the kick of it embedding itself somewhere up above. A thin monofilament wire trailed down from the hole, attached to the tip of the gun. Moments later, the miniaturized motor activated, dragging Rook up into the ceiling.

The impact rattled his entire body, testing the limits of the Miracle Suit to their maximum. Maybe a lost rib, or a fractured elbow...he didn't know. Something was brutally dislodged as his body punched through the ceiling, brought up to the upper level.

He clipped the wire instantly, falling back to the ground, breathing hard. A few feet away was the massive frozen hole Black Ice had fallen through, leading back down into the basement. What was the play here - help Noctua kill Black Ice, or get what he came here for? There was a chance they could take him out together....

Height advantage. Won't get another chance.

Jason scowled and reloaded.

Silently, he rolled over to the lip of the hole, looking to train his rifle sights on the back of Ice's head. Using the Third Eye to peer through the floor, he elected to reveal himself only when Ice's back was turned...then fire a burst of homing bullets at him once his technology confirmed the field had dropped.


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Deus Mortis
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Re: The Hunt.

Post by Deus Mortis » Wed Dec 05, 2018 3:09 am

A great crash from above alongside the sight of wall residue alerted Noctua to his ally’s repositioning. The firing and whirring coming from Resolute’s gun led Noctua to realize that neither of the two had any unique method of transportation, though how such information would be useful for him right now was unknown to the Nocturnal Vigilante. Instead of focusing on such trivial information, he’d hone his mind on something else.

Like the blue man about to fire a freeze spray at him.

”Does it hurt? Allow me to numb the pain..."”

Noctua would have no time for a clever one liner as he instead leapt up vertically, his body twisting in the air so his stomach and legs would land against the roof of the room. The Paragon had just avoided getting a free, prototype ice bath, one that would have frozen his feet to the ground and likely caused frostbite so bad he’d need to get his legs amputated from the following complications they’d cause. Just as he did before, Noctua would draw another two of his knives from his belt, sending them flying out towards the Hypothermic Killer. Noctua’s goal was to disable his adversary and so he’d do just that, his knives aiming to embed themselves into Black Ice’s gloved hands. With so many of their weapons proving ineffective (for reasons Noctua still has yet to learn), he’d do the next big thing he could think of and attack Black Ice’s equipment themselves.

With the liquid nitrogen spray over, Noctua would launch himself from the top of the room, fully believing the floor to be largely unaffected from the “ice”. Noctua’s lack of wisdom would show as he landed on the floor, slipped, and promptly fell on his ass. Had he not been in some giant SAW-like battle royale, Noctua would have laughed at the small screw up. Instead, all he could feel was an incredibly intense sense of disappointment and lack of confidence. An intense feeling that would go away within the next handful of seconds. Noctua may not be in some battle royale but he is trying to defend his life at the moment and with the knowledge he’s had on Black Ice, he knows one thing.

He does NOT want to be near him.

Making use of his superb agility and acrobatics, Noctua would focus on evading the attacks Black Ice had to offer. While not the most heroic of things, Noctua at least understood that he was serving as some kind of distraction for Resolute, who seemed to have a plan. If things went the way Noctua hoped, the combined attack from Noctua and Resolute would enough to cause the Frozen Killer to surrender, either voluntary or not.

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Re: The Hunt.

Post by Akhilleus » Thu Dec 06, 2018 5:04 pm

The waililing of sirens was clearer, now, and cut through the low, rumbling vibrations left by the initial explosion from the reactor. Akhilleus gave a glance downward; the ground was still discolored and chalky from he volumes of ash that hung in the air, but the piles of rubble had since slimmed down to stray hunks of rocks and charred trash. The air lit up in an array of colors, red and blue wisps floating across the blackened sky as the lights of emergency service vehicles strobed in the far distance.

A silhouette cut through the layer of smoke. A man in light blue uniform, mouth mask covering his face. Tired eyes, his hair cut close to his head. Gloved hands. A paramedic, Hector concluded.

"H-here. Help me," Williams found himself rasping out. The tone, the inflection, the manner in which the words came out in a dry, throaty sound— the voice was not his own. Regardless, the EMT responded to it and moved towards the government agent.

Two paces away, and the man's posture tensed. Regardless, the emergency services worker stepped aside and grabbed a charred shoulder. Hector instinctually raised his hand and rested it upon the man's arm; the two took a few steps forward before Williams felt the grip tightening upon his back. A moment later and the paramedic fell forward; Akhilleus grabbed the man's head mid-fall, attempting to halt the descent but ultimately failing. The man collapsed onto the ground and seized up, giving small shivers and jerks of his limbs before violently convulsing; even in the low light, a faint verdant glow illumimated the burn upon the man's exposed face and forearm— regions where the government agent had placed his hands.

Hector stood still, offering only an addled and disconnected stare as the body shook, then lessened into a soft shudder before laying still upon the burnt asphalt. One moment, the man had been fine, offering aid to Williams with no prior display of illness or malady, and now— dead, skin burnt and blistering for no discernible reason.

Then, slowly, the dots connected in Akhilleus' mind. The offered hand was raised, slowly, to lightly cover chapped and charred lips. His eyes stung, for a moment, as tears welled in his eyes and evaporated upon contact with his corneas, slits of steam wafting into the night air.

"O-oh God." He breathed out, stepping away from the corpse before a haze began to settle over his mind once more. Thoughts, actions and perceptions became disjointed.

The smoke cleared, eventually. The black night sky gave way to the moon, stars barely visible through the distant light pollution. The sirens were still present though they, too, faded— much like the smoke and ash and remnants of Hector's brush with death. The unlit sign of a clothes store crested upon Williams' vision, and the backdrop of the storefront melted into a rack of clothes. A t-shirt. A jacket. Pants. Shoes. Gloves, to cover the charred hands, and a cloth winter hat to cover his burnt scalp. Hector gave a soft breath when he was finished, trying to clear the stupor he was placed in.

New York. You're in New York. You tried to absorb a reactor. Maybe you did. In New York, and you're in a game. You were poisoned, but you aren't now.

Maybe-- maybe you still are.


Akhilleus closed his eyes, pressing his eyelids shut as he forced himself to concentrate. The amount of energy absorbed— it had always been thought of by Williams, but he never had the heart to attempt it. This entire situation, this 'hunt' had to stop. He had to stop it. Had to.

Alpha. You were with Capacitor. A girl. Times Square. A machine. Poison. You were poisoned, but you know that. Anything else. Anything else...

He was in a bathroom, now. Hands clutched at the porcelain sink, his fingers cracking the fragile ceramic and outright putting holes through it as anger welled up inside him. With a clean tug, he ripped the fixture from the wall and through it into a stall, his eyes pressing shut once more.
Heroism is accessible. Happiness is more difficult.

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Re: The Hunt.

Post by Black Ice » Thu Dec 06, 2018 5:41 pm

Black Ice offered little but a cold chuckle, as Noctua's blades once again triggered his field. Before they could all shatter, he reached out, plucking one from the air. Applying a small amount of force, he snapped it in two. The blade that'd been stuck in his armor previously fell apart into a hundred icy shards, allowing his control panel to be accessed once again.

Then, Rook shot him.

The covert agent's timing was impeccable, the bullets impacting precisely within the infinitesimal window between his field going down and recharging. The homing rounds hit the back of his armor, leaving a dozen holes in the plated section that kept his head protected. He jerked forward with the impact, the ice underneath his feet cracking.

Briggs raised his damaged gun up, not pointing it through the hole that Carpenter was aiming through, but at the ceiling itself. With a subtle motion, he switched the output to wide-bore. When he fired, the ensuing blast of nitrogen covered the vast majority of the floor Resolute stood on. The weight upon it would make the ceiling shatter, dropping the gunman back into the basement, right next to the Ice Cold Killer himself.

Before the Agent of Perseverance could recover, Black Ice would deliver a powerful stomp with his metal boot, intending to shatter Carpenter's ribcage with but a blow. Then, as a coup de grace, he switched the absolute zero field from passive to active mode. He'd trigger it, stopping all motion of even molecules within around three yards. Unless Resolute was exceptionally lucky, he'd be at least partially caught within- if his 'Miracle Suit' protected him, it would surely be damaged beyond repair in the process.

Unfortunately for the Pack's subzero shooter, the final attack would deplete his energy cells for the foreseeable future. He'd have to rely on his armor for defense for the next ten minutes or so, long enough for one of the two parties to triumph- either he'd kill them, or be killed himself, before that time was up.

Returning the nitrogen cannon to a pressurized stream, he turned his attention to Noctua. Instead of firing directly on the impressionable hero, he aimed the gun at the wall behind him. With a concentrated blast, he made the wall brittle and easily broken- intending to soon shatter it, and throw Valeria into the water not far beyond.

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