Eiko had reached into her shirt just before stepping through, laid something in her hand, closed her eyes, and whispered something. It wasn't in English, or Japanese, or in fact any language anyone here would know. But it sounds almost like a prayer.
Then she tucked it back in, drew her APL, and stepped through...
...appearing with the others, the working lens of her goggles glowing a faint green as she glances around trying to look for unusual heat patterns.
It's a very strange place, and she's not sure she likes it at all here. But they've got something to do, and with one bad hand, one bad eye, and everything else? She's still going to do what they're here for.
Derek, assigned to keep an eye on Eiko, follows on the scientist's heels. Katana in one hand, the monster gun with a full clip in the other, he keeps a foot to the side and half a foot behind
( ... )
Ada follows well enough. Her mind is on the job, but that doesn't stop her from taking a look around Old Portland as soon as everything is awkwardly hurled into focus. The statues catch her eye, but she forces herself to keep her attention on finding a particular midget. One that hopefully wasn't in as bad of shape as these statues.
Only after a few seconds of looking around does she recall that her place is up front, with Ms. Hollister. Ada has her doubts about working under the emotional woman, but she doesn't say as much. Ada is a hypocrite, but now isn't the time to think of Spain.
Her handgun had been left behind, so she's now armed with the APL she'd gotten at the beginning of all this. The rocket launcher she'd used on the gigante is slung over her shoulder in her now tattered bag.
Ada quickens her pace, careful to stay quiet, and moves next to Hippolyta. The pieces were being set up. How would the last moves be played, she wonders.
If he could, Custo would whistle at Old Portland. Wow.
He ties a convinient bandana over his half-face, and starts looking around, listening and sensing and just really being creeped out.
Hopefully nothing else would crack. No sensory array means his semi-omni-directional senses aren't working and that makes for a nervous, twitchy Custo.
The robot starts checking around for anything out of the ordinary, taking up a stance in front of the crew. It's what scrappers do, after all.
All she can hear is her heart pounding in her ears. All she can see are the thin threads of blood running down Ramon's neck where Saddler's got a grip on him. She can sort of hear Ada talking, using normal words, as if this were a normal situation. But the words are drowned out by her rage, becoming a mosquito-like background buzz.
"Put."
She steps forward three paces, putting her bazookoid in front of her, her finger not on the trigger. It almost looks like she's ready to use it to bludgeon Saddler with it.
"Him."
Her nanobots are screaming. She can hear them in her head, a thousand thousand tiny voices echoing the anger that's bouncing around in her own skull. Making it louder, reverberating through her brainpan and then down into her lungs, up her throat, over her lips and teeth and tongue.
"DOWN."That's the only warning Saddler gets. Hippolyta doesn't bother opening fire; she just rushes him. Element of surprise? Perhaps. Or perhaps she's just hoping Saddler will throw Ramon aside to tangle with her. Or perhaps she
( ... )
Ramon feels those little beads of blood dribbling down his neck, copying the sensation of the tears streaming along his cheeks. His eyelids flutter and his eyes are rolled back as he gasps and chokes weakly, his hands feebily holding to Saddler's own. There is no struggle beyond that, however.
He hears voices, one of them is Hippolyta's...But they soon sort of dissolve into nothing but buzzing sounds, much like what adreneline is doing for Hips' own sense of hearing. Black flowers are beginning to unfold their petals over his vision...
Saddler doesn't even have time to throw out some taunt about "not taking orders from mouthy harlots." As Hips crosses the distance between them, there's that juicy ripping noise of tentacles rupturing flesh. Then the airy whoosh as one of the thick appendages whistles through the air, sweeping aside humans -- alive and petrified alike.
Hips has a bit of experience with this sort of thing. After she and Ramon fought way, way back in February, she saw how fast they are, how quickly they can be utilized in a fight.
But her own forward motion here is her undoing. She skids to a stop, intending to duck under it, slide on her back like a baseball player, kick him where it counted when she closed that last little distance. Instead, however, she ends up sliding at an odd angle...and what would have been a torso blow becomes a headshot.
She had enough wits about her to use her bazookoid to block most of the power behind that blow. However, this now leaves her weaponless. Her trusty bazookoid, with her now for nearly four years, is destroyed in an instant by the power of Saddler's parasite. It shatters in her hands, and the two halves go spinning away on either side of her.
As for the woman herself...she ends up flat on her back, bleeding slightly from a gash near her temple.
Eiko sees the body hit the stone. She's seen that sort of limp fall before; the complete lack of any resistance, the puppet with strings cut. That's death pure and simple and true
( ... )
For a moment, while Ramon's body crashes to the ground in an unceremonious heap, there isn't anything going through her mind.
"...Holy fuck."
She whispers this to herself, her right hand groping for her knife instinctively while her mind focuses on what has just happened.
Ramon Salazar was dead. Her organization's objectives had been compromised. Even with the death of Saddler at this point, she could barely hope to explain herself for this.
Of course she's only mad about failing the mission. That's exactly why she's darting to the side, over to where Ramon was, looking him over a moment. She doesn't have to. There's no mistake about it.
She turns back to them and watches Eiko fire. Think fast, Ada. There might not be much left to save at this point save for their own lives. Ada draws out her APL again. She takes her place toward the front and opens fire herself.
Well, that's certainly enough to make Saddler decide to drop the blonde. Or toss her, rather.
His plaga writhes at the assault, the activity visible on the surface of Saddler's face. The tentacles lash furiously, drawing in on themselves, and eventually disappearing entirely. The cult leader-slash-murderer staggers forwards, and falls face-first on the ground.
Maybe that was good enough to do him in?
He seems awfully still...
But people like Saddler never go down that easily. His body explodes outwards, as the master plaga extends its impossibly large spider-like legs. No more taunts. No orations on power and evil intentions. Saddler's all business now.
As of now, the master plaga is making the best of his surroundings; with one tentacle, he picks up chunks of petrified human and hurls them at long-range attackers. Custo's inspired use of a missile only increases his anger; big, "probably-legs" aren't so good for extracting explosives from his squishy parts.
Deciding the bits of rock aren't quite having the desired effect, he tears a street light from the ground and sends that spinning sideways through the air like a big, metal boomerang.
Eiko drops and rolls, still shimmering slightly. It sparks a little as one of the Hands' spears hits her, and she groans - not wounded, but that didn't feel good.
Okay, that Derek understood. He rolls all the way over on his chest and starts to push himself up. Only the air pressure warns him as metal and concrete goes flying, and he instinctively flattens down again until it's over.
Okay, fine.
The hunter rolls over on his back, trying to catch sight of this missile, where-ever it is.
He gets an eyeful of Saddler-thing.
"Fuck."
Scrabbling for the monster gun, he keeps an eye on flailing monster limbs and flying debris. For a second, as he aims, he thinks he sees the missile. Aiming carefully, he times his shot for the next time the faint scrap of metal comes into view.
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Then she tucked it back in, drew her APL, and stepped through...
...appearing with the others, the working lens of her goggles glowing a faint green as she glances around trying to look for unusual heat patterns.
It's a very strange place, and she's not sure she likes it at all here. But they've got something to do, and with one bad hand, one bad eye, and everything else? She's still going to do what they're here for.
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Only after a few seconds of looking around does she recall that her place is up front, with Ms. Hollister. Ada has her doubts about working under the emotional woman, but she doesn't say as much. Ada is a hypocrite, but now isn't the time to think of Spain.
Her handgun had been left behind, so she's now armed with the APL she'd gotten at the beginning of all this. The rocket launcher she'd used on the gigante is slung over her shoulder in her now tattered bag.
Ada quickens her pace, careful to stay quiet, and moves next to Hippolyta. The pieces were being set up. How would the last moves be played, she wonders.
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He ties a convinient bandana over his half-face, and starts looking around, listening and sensing and just really being creeped out.
Hopefully nothing else would crack. No sensory array means his semi-omni-directional senses aren't working and that makes for a nervous, twitchy Custo.
The robot starts checking around for anything out of the ordinary, taking up a stance in front of the crew. It's what scrappers do, after all.
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"Put."
She steps forward three paces, putting her bazookoid in front of her, her finger not on the trigger. It almost looks like she's ready to use it to bludgeon Saddler with it.
"Him."
Her nanobots are screaming. She can hear them in her head, a thousand thousand tiny voices echoing the anger that's bouncing around in her own skull. Making it louder, reverberating through her brainpan and then down into her lungs, up her throat, over her lips and teeth and tongue.
"DOWN."That's the only warning Saddler gets. Hippolyta doesn't bother opening fire; she just rushes him. Element of surprise? Perhaps. Or perhaps she's just hoping Saddler will throw Ramon aside to tangle with her. Or perhaps she ( ... )
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He hears voices, one of them is Hippolyta's...But they soon sort of dissolve into nothing but buzzing sounds, much like what adreneline is doing for Hips' own sense of hearing. Black flowers are beginning to unfold their petals over his vision...
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But her own forward motion here is her undoing. She skids to a stop, intending to duck under it, slide on her back like a baseball player, kick him where it counted when she closed that last little distance. Instead, however, she ends up sliding at an odd angle...and what would have been a torso blow becomes a headshot.
She had enough wits about her to use her bazookoid to block most of the power behind that blow. However, this now leaves her weaponless. Her trusty bazookoid, with her now for nearly four years, is destroyed in an instant by the power of Saddler's parasite. It shatters in her hands, and the two halves go spinning away on either side of her.
As for the woman herself...she ends up flat on her back, bleeding slightly from a gash near her temple.
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The gun that Deadpool gave her all these many months ago.
She aims as best as she can and starts firing into Saddler.
Go ahead, Saddler. Kill her now. Get it over with. But she's going down fighting. That's what he would have wanted.
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"...Holy fuck."
She whispers this to herself, her right hand groping for her knife instinctively while her mind focuses on what has just happened.
Ramon Salazar was dead. Her organization's objectives had been compromised. Even with the death of Saddler at this point, she could barely hope to explain herself for this.
Of course she's only mad about failing the mission. That's exactly why she's darting to the side, over to where Ramon was, looking him over a moment. She doesn't have to. There's no mistake about it.
She turns back to them and watches Eiko fire. Think fast, Ada. There might not be much left to save at this point save for their own lives. Ada draws out her APL again. She takes her place toward the front and opens fire herself.
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His plaga writhes at the assault, the activity visible on the surface of Saddler's face. The tentacles lash furiously, drawing in on themselves, and eventually disappearing entirely. The cult leader-slash-murderer staggers forwards, and falls face-first on the ground.
Maybe that was good enough to do him in?
He seems awfully still...
But people like Saddler never go down that easily. His body explodes outwards, as the master plaga extends its impossibly large spider-like legs. No more taunts. No orations on power and evil intentions. Saddler's all business now.
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Deciding the bits of rock aren't quite having the desired effect, he tears a street light from the ground and sends that spinning sideways through the air like a big, metal boomerang.
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"SOMEONE SHOOT THE MISSILE! BLOW THE FUCKER UP!"
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Okay, fine.
The hunter rolls over on his back, trying to catch sight of this missile, where-ever it is.
He gets an eyeful of Saddler-thing.
"Fuck."
Scrabbling for the monster gun, he keeps an eye on flailing monster limbs and flying debris. For a second, as he aims, he thinks he sees the missile. Aiming carefully, he times his shot for the next time the faint scrap of metal comes into view.
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He rolls over and manages to get up on hands and knees, then upright again. One leg's not responding. Looks like cable damage. It's locked up.
Derek's got the right idea, and Custo helps by pointing frantically. He can't really do anything else at this point.
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