And I can end the planet in a holocaust

[loves_war]

WHO: Rot Team and those who will try to stop them.
WHERE: Washington D.C.
WHEN: Shortly after this post
WARNINGS: Violence and desecration
SUMMARY: The Major was counting on the heroes of the City to not act in force to stop the nuke. He was wrong. Time for a monumental battle.
FORMAT: Whatever works.
NOTES: Don't forget to add your character's

Comments

[bestmachine]

With his own mortality thrumming in his ears, Cavil longed to destroy something beautiful. He hadn't spared any mercy on the guards or civilians that crossed his path. He paralyzed their muscles. He looped an arm around their necks. He snapped each and every one of their spines, felt their bodies slacken against his own, threw them aside, and started again. The sirens and screams let his powers flow effortlessly from his mind. They couldn't escape.

--And, somehow, it was supremely unsatisfying.

He bit back a sneer. None of this did anything to erase his problems back home. None of it brought back the soothing, maddening sounds of his mother's voice. For Cavil, that realization was maddening. Killing was supposed to be a perfect solution. And yet.

All that flew from his mind, however, as he caught sight of a metallic angel gliding over his head. Irony of ironies. This one he would take out. Using the sirens to propel his abilities, he aimed a psychic twist at Warren's neurons. He hoped to paralyze his muscles, too. Pull this dazzling creature from the sky.

[ascending_angel]

Though Warren was very well guarded against psychic blasts, he wasn't completely invulnerable to them. Cavil's attack was enough to bring him down and out of the sky, causing him to crash to the ground.

However, despite the fact that his body could not move, his metal wings could. Any attacks to his motor system put them in complete cruise control, and dozens and dozens of knives exploded from them in every direction--including a few straight at Cavil. The blades were made from advanced techno-organic metals and could cut almost anything in their path.

[bestmachine]

Cylon reflexes helped, but only so much - he wasn't exactly expecting knives to shoot out of the guy's wings. He yelped and released his grip on Warren's brain, stumbling to the side an attempt to dodge the weapons zipping towards him. He was partially successful. One knife nicked his upper arm, but another sunk itself decidedly into his upper leg. He stumbled but didn't fall, cursing under his breath. In that same breath, he ripped a handgun from his jacket.

"Don't move!"

Yelling commands, he thought numbly. That was sure to help. But he was quickly realizing that he was in over his head. He needed to slow this down, to think. If he could just get Warren to stay still a minute, maybe he could figure out a way to take him out.

bold text indicates the Death persona; non-bolded is Warren for the duration of this

[ascending_angel]

The exact second his brain was released, Archangel's head snapped up like a man possessed and he got to his feet. The chaos, the smell of blood, and the sudden mental attack had really ticked him off, and soon Death was in control of the metal body.

Death wasn't exactly as willing to bargain as Warren was.

"What did you just do!?" he shouted and stormed forward, wings spreading wide behind him to show off more of those blades. "I don't take kindly to mind tricks!"

[bestmachine]

He started to step back, but a sudden surge of both pain and pride stopped him in his tracks. He grimaced. This close, he could see the beautiful, beautiful metal encasing the man's body. Metal that he envied. Metal that he deserved. If he were shaped like that, he wouldn't have to deal with a hole in his right leg, with the blood caking and dripping on his pants, with the waves of dizziness and nausea lapping over his body.

He choked out a laugh. His gun hand trembled but didn't waver.

"You really are perfect, aren't you?" The words came all at once, and he laughed again, remembering Centurions riddling him with bullets, remembering the Sixes, the Eights, the Twos. The Three. Flawed machines. Why was he always up against flawed machines? "Are you human?"

[ascending_angel]

"I am Death," he growled because that was all he was. Humans were weak and he was far too superior to be clumped together in a group such as that. This man though? This thing? He, too, was weak. Death noticed the way he'd stepped back and the injury was very noticeable as well.

The weapon was clutched like a shield, almost. Though Death's eyes didn't stay on the gun for any longer than half a second. Guns didn't frighten him. Nothing did.

"And now you will die."

The blades in his wings erected into a shooting position, and Death prepared to fire them off.

[bestmachine]

Cavil could count the number of times he died on both of his hands; Cylons lived to die again and again, to let themselves fall into the blackness and return better for it. He wasn't afraid of it. Or he hadn't been. Was he mortal, back home? Was his last death his last death? Would this end him, too?

Everything considered, did he care?

Cavil knew for certain he was afraid of pain, however, and that looked like a particularly painful way to go. His panicked, pain-addled brain began to rapidly formulate a plan, a way out, desperate though it may be. No, he wasn't going now. Not yet. He fired the gun as well as shot another psychic burst Warren's way, attempting to bring his brain past seizure threshold.

[ascending_angel]

Only two or three blades shot free before the bullets tore through Death's fleshy parts, spraying blood for feet in the direction they were fired. In normal circumstances, Death would have easily been able to block them in mid-air and ricochet them back at his attacker, but this wasn't normal circumstances.

Again, the feeling of Cavil's mental attack clawed at his brain, sending him to the ground in a tense, shaking heap. His body's natural defenses were trying to combat it, but it didn't do much.

It gave Cavil a few spare moments to harm him more, if he desired.

Death's wings were the only things that could save him now, and they swiped and thrashed at all the debris around him in an attempt to shove something - anything - in the other man's way to break his hold before any prolonged damage could be done.

[bestmachine]

The funny thing about reaching seizure threshold was that Cavil didn't need to keep a grip on the brain. It was like shoving a rock down a hill and watching it roll all the way down to the bottom. It was like setting a tree trunk on fire and marveling at the way the flames licked at the sky from the very top branches.

The funny thing about only two or three blades was that they mattered a lot more when they were in close range.

Dodging the knives before was one thing, but Death had gotten closer to him, had stormed forward, and Cavil was focusing on his own attack. One blade shot through his bullet proof vest and into his stomach. The other shot through his vest into and his chest. He turned his head, shuddering, and vomited, before firing twice more at Death's fallen form. Then he dropped as well. It was a downward stumble more than a full collapse. He caught himself on one knee with his hands, felt himself reel forward, and then dug his fingers in the dirt to steady himself. The world shifted under him.

[ascending_angel]

Death couldn't see. He couldn't focus on anything anymore and his head was starting to feel lightweight and black. Very dark. Every muscle in his body thrashed and contracted as the seizure continued to rack his body.

Still, his wings continued to flail about and now that his condition was getting worse, the blades began exploding from them once more. A few nearby security guards and civilians had to take cover, but one wasn't so lucky as he was struck down.

The bullets that Cavil had fired struck Archangel as well, one hitting him in the side of the face, while the other bounced off of his metal hand. Control was gone now, though, and he could barely feel the pain from it.

[bestmachine]

Cavil let out a long, low laugh that racked his whole body. Yes. That was nice. That was irony. Heroes killing the ones they had been sent to protect. He considered shooting Death again (if he could), but decided he'd rather leave him like that, flailing, suffering, taking out those unfortunate to cross his path.

He was sure he was dying - he could recognize the familiar pull, the brown spots on the corner of his vision - but he was also sure he had won. The so-called 'heroes' couldn't make it. The bomb would go off, the humans would tear each other apart, and then beautiful nuclear winter--

He groaned, suppressing another wave of nausea and unbelievable pain. He hated bleeding to death.

[ascending_angel]

This had to end. Death tried as hard as he could to keep himself from going completely unconscious and to get control of himself. He was not this weak. Weakness was not allowed. It was survival of the fittest and if he could get up and walk away from this and destroy Cavil, then his mission would be complete.

He would kill every fucking human in the vicinity if he had to, but he would not lose.

He was not weak.

That constant regeneration process Death had was most likely the only thing keeping him from going completely brain damaged right then, which was advantage enough to keep that very small sliver of awareness there. Not that it did any good for his body, of course, because the muscle spasms were still hitting him. Were they slower? Faster? Death was not sure, but he still had his wings to count on. Knives continued to fly, lights were struck out, poles were destroyed and knocked over and other displays around the mall were also shattered. If only he could hit Cavil. That was all he wanted to do, if he still could.

Was Cavil still there?

[bestmachine]

He was.

The next knife caught in his shoulder. The next in his neck. That was when his arms collapsed and the world slowed down, but still the knives came, and again and again he felt blinding spikes of pain that gradually grew more and more distant as time went by, that felt like gentle piano keys on a keyboard of stars dum-dum-dum dum dah dum dum dum-dum-dum dum and the universe shrunk and expanded all over again just for him.

And then it went quiet.

[ascending_angel]

As Cavil died, Archangel's spasms came to a slow. Still, he had no control over his powers right then and could barely see two feet in front of him. The metallic body ached and throbbed as the wings continued to cause mayhem. Archangel was in big trouble now.

Yet, he could see enough to know that Cavil's body had disappeared and left him there alone.

Maybe now he was so damaged that he'd die, too. Maybe this time the healing factor wouldn't be enough. As enraged as Archangel wanted to be, his brain was practically fried and there wasn't enough energy in his body right then to even be angry. Even the bomb had escaped his thoughts; he'd forgotten about it. There was nothing in his mind but mangled and jumbled thoughts that made no sense.

And still his body worked against him.

[idateforsupper]

Dazzler and Havok had been in Washington awhile now, not having left even when Creed had gotten away. They were walking around a bit, searching to see if anyone needed anymore help when Alison set her eyes on Warren's body. And his wings. OH, GOD.

"WARREN!" she shrieked, wanting to go closer so bad even if his wings would probably hurt her. "ALEX! LOOK!"

No, no, no. NO.

She could probably put a light shield to protect people from his wings, but that probably wouldn't end well.

"ALEX, IT'S WARREN!"

[cry_andletloose]

Alex didn't recognise the huddled, spasming body on the ground at first. It wasn't until Alison screamed that it dawned on him, with rising horror, that the metallic figure in front of them was Warren. His heart sank-- their teammate was in trouble. A lot of trouble. It didn't even look like his healing factor might be enough to pull him through.

He started forward, but then barely dodged a lethal knife flung his way. "Look out!" He shouted, grabbing Ali by the wrist and pulling her to one side.

Getting near him was going to be hard. "Can you put up a shield? Use your lights to calm him down? Anything?"