WHO: PRETTY MUCH EVERYONE
WHERE: Nominally Los Angeles, but with teleporters and the refugee camps involved, who even knows?
WHEN: From June 5th on!
SUMMARY: People... who evacuate people... are the luckiest people... in the world.
(
now let me welcome everybody to the wild, wild west )
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With a sibilant laugh that was muffled beneath folds of his cloak, he took out his guns and headed for the location. It would be wise to know who this new arrival was, should they run into each other taking down the fiends that threatened the lives of innocents.
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Her arms and legs, already half sand to discourage anyone who might be planning on targeting her extremities, dissipated even more in anticipation of an aerial strike. After all, she had not seen any evidence of bombings here, but Sooraya had known bombs. She didn't actually stop moving at that point, either; instead, she broke into something between a run and a glide, given how totally insubstantial her feet were--it would be harder to hit a moving target. It was when the man parachuted down and the helicopter flew away harmlessly that she stopped running, her eyes narrowing as she observed the mysterious figure's fall, and the ( ... )
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"Sooraya Qadir, alias Dust," she said. "I am a member of the X-Men, and helping to evacuate the city. Please, lower your weapon."
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Suddenly a voice boomed out over a loudspeaker from somewhere off to the right; maybe a block away in Jack's estimation. "Return to your homes, assholes! There's nowhere to go! The government and their freak buddies are not gonna help you! So do as you're told, turn the fuck around, and sit tight before you get hurt! None of you are going anywhere!" The announcement was punctuated by a long burst of automatic weapons fire ( ... )
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As she lowered her arms, Sooraya immediately let the fingertips of her right hand start to disintegrate into the living silicon particles she referred to as sand--it was useless, but reassuring, especially as she was about to walk into certain danger. But she was, after all, an X-Man. Risking their lives to protect those of others was what they did, and it was something she had become accustomed to over the last two years.
Lifting what remained of her palm in his direction, Dust nodded, then started walking in the direction of the loudspeaker. She assumed he would follow.
"That is my power," Sooraya added, by way of explanation. "I would not want you to be shocked."
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Jack hurled himself behind a parked SUV as bullets began digging holes in the pavement near his feet. Judging by the volume of fire and the sound of the gunshots, he guessed there might be two shooters with AK-47s firing from an elevated position, but the rounds slamming into the car made it impossible for him to look for them. "Dust, do you see them?" He shouted.
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There were, indeed, two HIVE thugs on the other side, and they couldn't have noticed anything too out of the ordinary--there was always kicked-up dust around a baseball field, and they were too far away to notice the vague suggestion of a face in the sand. Returning to the ground and her clothes as quickly as she had gone, she nodded, then spoke.
"There are two."
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Sooraya had stared death in the face enough times in the past to know its approach when she saw it, and she knew it was here now, but she was too busy to feel sick or guilty for the loss of life. There was too much around her, too many important things to pay attention to, to give thought to the familiar revulsion, so Dust did what she always did--swallowed it down in silence to save it for later. She changed position from her knees to a crouch; standing upright would have to wait until she knew whoever had fired was trustworthy.
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