Summary: The Citadel, having located the secret base of the Underground in the City, moves to attack it. This time, they are thwarted by a massive cave-in, presumably engineered by the UG.
A startling lack of breath here is here, an emptiness shroud that hangs over the place with disturbing, icy weight. It is like abandonment, as though the mother had just hurled you, naked, from her nest and left you to helplessly fall or fly while beasts lie under waiting for your failure.
From the shades littering the metallic calloused sides of the trees, ghosts tread like a sudden hallucination that unexpectedly leaps from the reaches of your imagination only to promptly pull back.
Contents:
At just about six feet, this scarred and battleworn figure having a quiet, slightly weary demeanor about him. His face is lean with deep, cynical brown eyes, a Romanesque nose, and a strong jaw, burn marks dancing about his skin. Sitting atop his nose is a pair of old, worn black shades, visor-style, no frame apparent. Long black hair, going just past his shoulders, runs from his head, well kept after and devoid of all but a few streaks of grey it once had. A well-trimmed mustache sits above his lips, running straight down on either side of his mouth into a neat, small beard. With skin deeply tanned and scarred, he looks like he's experienced a hard life in the Plains outside the City, large amounts of healed over burn marks suggesting recent Hellish experiences. He wears a beaten drab brown vest, left open, pouches along the front. Beneath the open vest there's camoflague fatigues in a variety of sandy brown, yellow, and other colors. Desert colors. An old worn belt holds a pair of camoflagued pants, the same color as the shirt, up. A long, vicious looking knife, its handle charred and embedded with blood, hangs from the belt, without a sheath. A pair of old, rugged, and very beaten black combat boots complete the outfit. On his back a rugged old Thompson close combat machinegun is slung, muzzle pointing up from behind him. Just like the marines used in the Pacific. On his shoulder there's an old patch, reading 'DAMN-YANKEE' in all capital letters.
A tall swarthy Demon stands here. He stands approximately 13 feet high, and glistening ebony skin ripples over his thick musculature. His hair, black as well, falls carelessly from his human-like face down to the small of his back. Indeed, only his eyes, which emit an unholy white piercing light, and which never blink, and his fine set of gleaming teeth break the darkness of his visage. His upper torso is clad in a thick leather shirt made from tanned Human skins, over which a chainmail shirt jingles. A armband bearing the rank badge of a Citadel Sergeant encircles his upper left arm. His lower torso is similarly protected by a leather loincloth, which is in turn reinforced with gleaming steel bands. His thickly muscled legs resemble those of a human until just above his knees, where they become noticeably more hairy . . . and goat-like. Instead of feet, he has a pair of brazen hooves. Jet black feathered wings emerge from behind his back, which, when he is earthbound, are neatly tucked behind him. A large halberd is strapped to his back, the axehead of which is engraved with a depiction of the Fall of the Watchers, and a wickedly curved scimitar, encased in a jewel-encrusted scabbard, hangs from his leather belt. A forked tongue hisses out from between his lips.
Golden-blonde hair sweeps mostly to the right side of this lovely young lady's beautiful face, partially over the front of her shoulder, reaching to her mid-back. The lower half of her hair is curled, and a small clump of the straight upper potion falls in front of her mysterious blue eyes, casting a suspicous shadow on the visage beneath. Her pink lips curve into an authoritative, friendly, smile that lightens her features and compliments her beauty.
Her captivating form is playground for the senses. A sweet, sensuous scent floats gently in the air around her, only intensifying the craving one may get from simply looking at her. A work of art beyond flawless, her voluptuous figure radiates with carnal temptations. Full, luscious breasts bounce arousingly with each step she takes, and her slender waist bends fluidly with each sway of her sumptous hips. Long and elegant, her smooth legs flow gracefully downward, ending with her soft, delicate feet.
For the sake of mobility, her hair has been pulled into a bun, while a tight bodysuit fits snugly to her figure, intensifying the noticablility of her body's curves, even through the armor plates and padding. Although the suit itself serves as gloves, a pair of fingerless gloves adorn each hand. On each foot is a neatly laced combat boot, the small protrusion of a knife showing through the right one. Each seam of the suit is marked by a crimson stripe, adding a little decorative flavor to the armor. On the right arm of the suit there are three patches: One with the Citadel emblem, the second displaying twon inverted pentagrams under a writhing serpent, and the third patch is blood-red, a black inverted cross centered on it. A steel red box is securely attached to her belt with the word "MEDICAL" painted on it in military stencil. Next to the large word on the box is a sticker of a caricatured succubus wearing a tight nurse uniform, holding a chainsaw.
Fehu, Baroness of the Hierarchy
She stands in a stately demeanor, proudly bearing her rank with an indescribable ease. At 5'8", the Baroness hovers at a simple height for any female. Her face is somewhat oval shaped with blotched transparent skin displaying few spider-web veins. Contrasting, her chapping and peeled lips bleed with fresh crimson while her pupil-less eyes glisten with a stark azure fog. A hood is draped over her head halfway yet it seems to not cast a shadow against her form. From beneath the black velvet texture, milky white strands of hair, mixed with streaks of marine blue, whip about effortlessly around her face.
The full-length body suit that holds itself firmly to her body is constructed of a well-developed array of plastics for padding. Free form mountain climbing shoes are attached to bottom of the suit, covered in the plastics as well and buffering any foot falls into silence. Upwards along the side of each of her legs, a solid line of deep crimson glistens as if soaked in water. A thick leather belt hangs loosely around her hips with a buckle made of steel and a radio hanging from a holster at her side. The suit pulls across her left arm and hand, covering the fingers in the plastic gloves that still allow the feeling of touch. However, the Baroness' right arm and hand are made out of black iron decorated with fibers of golden hairs and fingernails of solid brass.
It stands in absence of humanity, a testament to what is beyond the control or comprehension of earth-bound things. The strength of it's gaze knows such secrets in the cosmos as to reduce the seers of it to ashes. It's presence radiates the unknown and mysterious, what has been ventured only by a few who are as horrorifying secrets of space as those they explore.
She stands 8 feet of height and has a body built of sinew and strength. Her crushing embrace could buckle bolted steel and her solid legs, capable of attaining sharp and dangerous speeds and leaping up heights so vast as to confound the mind. Under a ridge of bone and flesh her eyes are set like smoldering embers the shade of the distant sun and drowning in the deepness of her sockets. The savagery in her eyes could strike down man and beast, heaven and earth, brimming with the knowledge of things that defy nature and creation and erupting with a will so ferocious it brittles the conscious mind.
Her skin tone is that of a cooked, suckling pig; a ripe and blistered colour. Over the entirity of her body are vivid patterns painted in ash black pigmentation that seems a natural part of her, almost making her passionately horrifying form into something artistic and hauntingly beautiful. Clutching her muscled back are thick exo-skeletal growths that stretch down the length of her upper arms and over her elbows and in segments down her spine. In the many, burgundy coloured segments and out of the ridge that caps her elbow, many quils erupt in threatening, unordered beauty. From her shoulder blades and mounting her shoulders are a pair of rigid, razor-tipped spike protrusions. Growing out of the segments climbing down her spine, the same exo-skeletal material reaches across each individual rib in a singular wrapping of bone and chitin that meets at a series of flat black plates that climb down from her sternum to her abdomen. A long, whip-like extension grows lke a 5th limb from the junction of her shoulder blades, it's form a many sectioned, 4 and a half foot long tail ending in two protruding daggers of bone that mount a small, circular opening.
She walks on the toughened balls of her feet and on three toes, with a predatory and stiffined stance that only remotely reveals any humanoid semblance. She is fiercesome and primal to behold, deadly and hypnotizing; like a black widow, queen of her independance, and as dangerous as she is mesmerizing.
It's still drizzling. Only this time, it's drizzling locusts. Live locusts, dead locusts, brown locusts, green locusts...hungry locusts by the thousands...dried out locusts shells...locust parts, locust legs, dried up bits of chewed-up locusts. A layer of locusts builds up all over the city and the plains...
Assembled in the courtyard are four neatly grouped squads. Standing in their red and black, form fitting armor, completely concealed head to toe, each one has a Russian AK-47 assault rifle at their hip. A few have scopes affixed, or extra clips taped to their armor. Each squad of five men has a sergeant attached, making it four squads of six, effectively. There's also a group of three demons, in heavy armor and toting flamethrowers, and another trio of guards with pistols and satchel charges. Demolitions, most likely.
Damn-Yankee grins wickedly, translucent tendrils of gel bursting from his skin and wrapping over his body.
Semiazas looks over his squad, all of whom are bursting with pride at their recent triumph. All differences between the Sergeant and his men have vanished. Guards from other squads peer at them and whisper about the rumour that Semiazas' squad has captured at least one angel.
Echo stands rigidly with Semiazas' troops.
The main gate to the Citadel creeks open once more, the rumbling of the building's large fortifications rattling the ground as a figure takes shape in the outcast light from the inside. Once the vibrations cease, the cloaked figure makes her way into the outer courtyard with a patient grace and fluidity. Behind her, the doors clamp closed once more with a sudden shock to the earth, sending the mutated trees decorating the outside in a tender humm of harmonics. The cloak hanging from her body snaps upwards like the wing of a manta ray as it glides across the Sea's surface displaying the standard issue of Citadel Armor beneath. Fehu cuts through the ranks as though she owned them all and was going to command them to victory, but instead stops just behind Damn-Yankee, silent in her patience.
Trooper-Yankee steps out infront the assembled troops, the courtyard being used as a makeshift war room. Stepping up on a podium, he looks down on the troopers, clad in his black, organic armor. "Greetings, gentlemen. You've all been called here for a very /important/ assignment. Squads have been rearranged, given new roles. Tonight, we are taking down a major terrorist thorn in our side..."
A rickety old projector comes on, shining a black and white map of the Unchosen sector. A little north of Goatsbridge, there's a red dot. "The Underground. We have obtained intelligence, and are prepared to raid it. Sergeant Semiazas. You and your squad shall be Alpha squadron. Sergeant Brackman, you lead Beta. Alfador, Gamma. And Hendrix, Sigma. In addition, Hellfire squad will take out spots of heavy resistance, and Tinderbox squad will go in last, to set the satchel charges."
A languid vision of neither unholy nor holy elegance and grace, the infamously known alien-scourge Achkvve enters the Citadel courtyard from the grand gates. Eyes like coals, lit with the burning unison of sublimely lethal biology and infallable mind, regard the gathering with analytical curiosity. Some might recognize her as the crafter of the Citadel's present, evolved state, others as an unfamiliar fae intruder on infernal ground. Yet, regardless of how the disquietingly demure creature of inner space is identified, she approaches the settled troops as if a queen amoung them, a mother who approaches her sons with a presence that commands humility.
Trooper-Yankee nods to Fehu and Achkvve as he notices them, as well.
Semiazas's tongue hisses out from between his teeth as he grins with pleasure at the plan. His troops are grinning as well, certain of yet another glorious triumph in the name of Hell.
Three soldiers in Semiazas's squad whisper quietly to each other. They seem even more confident than the others, and are the three Guards the others are muttering about. . . the ones that helped bring in the angel, or angels.
The projected image changes to a collage of photos, taken from various spots outside a rickety old house, with various figures passing and going, inside and out. "This is our target. We have judged our intelligence to be correct, due to the large number of people coming and not being seen leave for a good amount of time. Obviously, there's got to be some type of substructure. We've heard about their 'Underground underground base' for a while, now. But we think we've found it. Also, notice how close it is to the Chasm. We may be able to blow a wall out and dump the entire affair down there. Moving on, Alpha team, you'll handle the breach of the house, followed by the other three standard squads. Once we locate the entrance, we'll go underground, Hellfire and Tinderbox following. At this point, we don't know what to expect. You'll all have to adapt and overcome. We'll have aerial support watching for possible reinforcements, and additional guards on call in case we're ambushed. Be wary of traps, and heavy resistance. This place isn't gonna fall easy."
Semiazas nods once briskly. "Alpha Squadron ready, sir." His squad quits their chatter and stands at attention, ready for action.
Trooper-Yankee says "Now, remember, if a guard gets killed, try to haul his corpse with you when you pull out, so we can dump him in the Womb. Try to grab a few Undergrounders, too. And anything important looking." He turns sharply, and begins to march through the locusts. "There's a few armored trucks to transport us. Get ready for some action, boys.""
Achkvve recognizes the Baroness with a passing gaze and mild nod, a gesture she has picked up while living in this wildly iratic dimension. Her strangely powerful, irrevokable strides bring her to stad near the apparent commander of this operation. There, she simply stands, surveying, wearing no expression to be read or intent to be garnered from solar-hewn eyes.
Cut to...
Goatsbridge
Here the Chasm narrows to a mere fifty yards or so, spanned by a creaking, swaying bridge of wood, rope, rusty cable, and prayers. In the early days of the End, the townsfolk would throw human or animal sacrifices (ritually made into the scapegoat) into the Chasm, in hopes of appeasing the angry gods. Victims would be led on a rope through the streets, pelted with curses, rotten fruit, stones, or worse, and finally thrown from the bridge into the Pit.
This practice has not ceased completely, and small stalls line the road to the west and south, selling sacrificial dolls, charms, wreaths, prayers, and so on, to be fastened to the "goat" before it plunges into the nether realms.
(OOC) This is part of the De-Controlled Zone. There is no electricity, running water, waste removal services, or Citadel patrolling in this area. RP accordingly.
Obvious exits:
Townhouse
Trooper-Yankee chuckles quietly in response to Fehu, rocked occasionally by the truck. He flicks his comlink on while the unmarked armored trucks move to their destination. **Try to keep radio silence, folks, after this. Hand and voice signals. While Alpha breaches, Beta, Gamma, and Sigma will move around outside the house and watch the street, and make sure no one exits it. After we've secured the upper half and located the underground entrance, we'll go underground. AeroOps will watch the streets for us. Hellfire and Tinderbox will go in at this point, as well. If you see what could be a booby trap, or tripwire, call for Tinderbox squad, if the area is secure for them to come in. SpecOps Commander Damn-Yankee out.*
The trucks screech to a halt as they reach the street near the house, not opening the doors of the vehicles just yet. Helicopters swoop overheard, spotlights shining down.
The townhouse seems eerily quiet. No lights are on inside, no apparent motion.
The doors fly open, Yankee one of the first to leap out. "Go go go!" he cries, almost reminiscent of twentieth century troop landings, motioning forward at the primary door with his left hand, right clutching the gun. Gamma, Sigma, and Beta quickly move down, around the house as the choppers move about overhead.
The doors to the truck carrying Alpha Squadron fly open, and Semiazas leaps out, followed by the rest of his troops. Guns are cocked instanltly, and Semiazas is already wielding his halberd with both hands, its spearhead pointed forward and ready to run through some unfortunate soul. He signals to his troops to follow as he dashes for the door to the Townhouse.
A rift in space tears particles of matter away from empty space, borrowing colour and structure. The harvested materials than remerge in a newly adopted shape, flooding with the hues taken from the surrounding realm to form the figure of Achkvve. She stands outside of the bussle of the swarming troops, still a mere observer, watching how these foreign beings play out their war-games, perhaps in the same manner humans would watch the collision of two competetor ant mounds.
Echo jumps out with her group, and immediately hangs behind in the back. After all, what good is it to have the medic shot first.
As the troops mill outwards, the Baroness tilts her head at them to gather another point of perspective at their actions. A slight, however vain, smile forces itself upon the edges of her lips. Fehu stands up from her seat in the truck, plucks a strand of lint from her cloak, and makes her way out of the vehicle in a composed and unruffled manifestation that senior citizens often do on the former Sunday afternoons. Pulling her cloak from her shoulders in a single seamless action, she prominently displays a sword still held in a sheath on her hips. The Demoness decides not to weild it just yet, instead leaning a shoulder against the truck and sparking up a cig she found in one of her hidden pockets.
Trooper-Yankee presses his back up to the wall, gun held up in the air. He motions to the door beside him with a hand, signalling for the large demon to bust it in and move into the house. Demons are more sturdy, anyways.
Semiazas nods once and kicks the door open with one swing. Indeed, it is now hanging by only one hinge, and that a very tenuous grip. He starts in for the townhouse immediately, followed closely by his squad.
As the door opens, the night bursts with an explosion...someone rigged the door with a mine. But not well enough...Semiazas's armor deflects most of the force. This leaves a big hole in the front wall of the townhouse.
Trooper-Yankee flinches at the large explosion, staggered by it. But thankfully, Semi ate up most of it. Going in after him, he flicks the flashlight attached to his gun on, like a few other squad members might have, sweeping in the insides.
The troops move inside...
Townhouse - Foyer
All tiled and cleared, the foyer looks like a slate entryway into a new world. The lighting is clear and bright, and the place looks to be regularly cleaned and used. The series of locks and bolts on the door attest to the still near dangers of outside. An open doorway leads into the living room and the kitchenette, and a spiral staircase leads up to the second floor.
Semiazas dashes in, only slightly dazed from the explosion. His troops regard him with admiration at his bravery. Clearly, all disputes between him and his squad are now completely settled in his favour.
The room is empty, except for the troops storming in... the lights off. Apparently whoever lived here got enough advance warning to leave in a hurry.
Echo gives her sergeant a concerned look, examining him for damage that just can't wait. Satisfied with his condition, she turns her attention back to the immediate task at hand.
Trooper-Yankee slowly uses the light on his gun to scan the darkened area. Spotting a convenient light switch, he flicks it on with his bare hand, praying its not rigged. "Search for any Tangos or additional booby-traps."
The power has been cut. Nothing happens at the flick of the switch... the more observant may see the tiny red LEDs overhead marking the surveillance cameras, which must run on a separate power supply.
The Guards of Alpha Squadron begin to search the place as best they can in the dark, knocking over things and prodding various places with their rifle muzzles. One happens to notice the blinking lights and gestures frantically towards them.
Achkvve follows like a shadow-sworn predator, walking sleekly in the confines of dark spaces in the silhouette trails of the troopers. Her eyes detect the throbbing hot imprints each of the swarm's footfalls leave behind, and her very flesh detects the chemicle odors their stinking bodies unleash with every movement.
Thick vines of smoke grow into the air, strangling a few locusts as they zoom in with her, and coat the ceiling in a putrid haze of corruption. Pale eyes flicker in the darkness, slowly gearing themselves for the low-light, as she speaks with Achkvve at her side while examining the bomb damage, "Brute force; however, the grace of a well-placed lock pick might not have been prudent." in a rather critiquing manner that just reeks of, 'she could have done it better.' Fehu smiles sardonically, the expression illuminated by the red flame off her ancient cig before moving just to the side of the entry way and once again leaning against the wall taking long, senuous, drags.
Trooper-Yankee approaches the staircase, using his lights to look under the steps, to make sure nothing there is rigged. Glancing towards the LED thing, he whispers, hoarsely, "Get rid of it! And stay clear when you do. It might be rigged."
Trooper-Yankee ignores Fehu's comments, of course.
Suddenly the camera shatters, an ice shard spiked into the lense. Fehu just chortles from her spot by the door, drapped in shadows like a mistress in an elegant gown.
Semiazas glances up the steps that Yankee was just examining. A large fireball suddenly appears in his hand as he rests his halberd against his left shoulder. His glowing eyes narrow as he readies himself for battle.
Achkvve's eyes shoot to the sudden explosion in the corner of the room, seeming somehow pleased at the intrusion, finding perhaps an amusing level of efficiency in such an act that so rivals the savage tactics of the troopers. The pinpoints of her eyes dim, her flesh goes sallow and pale, and seems to become rigidly immoveable where she stands. Her blinding exterior senses she abandons, submitting herself only to the oppressive feel of her surroundings. Like a wolf piercing the darkness with mere intuition, searching for prey, she 'smells' her surroundings for unusual variables that might stimulate her curiosity.
Trooper-Yankee steps back, and shakes his head. As Fehu takes out the camera and chortles, he smirks that such a small deed would amuse the demoness. Luckily, the condescending facial gesture is mostly hidden behind his face-grill, and the darkness. Turning back, he gives the staircase a sharp boot before jumping back, and it collapses. Extending his hand upwards, a thick tendril of flesh, veins, and corded tendon and cartilidge shoots from Yankee's palm(shapeshift), flying up where the staircase should have led and digging into whatever it strikes like a makeshift grapple. Letting it fall away from his hand, he leaps up on the newly created...Rope...He'll collect it later.
"Veyaaaahhsss..." The alien begins to hiss, it's flesh itself seeming the conduit for it's dampened voice, "Smells... alive..." She states, seeming somehow to regard the house itself.
The vertical posts that normally support the stairway remain, but the stairs themselves are in a heap on the floor...
Semiazas straps his halberd in place and leaps through the door to follow the Commander up. His raven wings beat just enough to keep him suspended above the Commander, awaiting his next move. One hand is holding the pommel of his scimitar, while the other still supports the fireball, which is about twice the size of a basketball.
Second Floor Hallway
A long, well lit hallway, plaster above and wood panneling below waist level. Several doors line the hall, and an alcove with a bay window sits at either end of the hall, great for reading.
Obvious exits:
Again, the hallway is dark...quiet...except for the tiny glow indicating the
cameras.
Trooper-Yankee peers about the hallway, gun raised,
light infront of him. Semi and the other squad follow behind, scanning with
their lights. He pauses at Achkvve, waiting for her to get up to ask her.
"Its...Alive?" he rasps. He motions for the other guards to look behind the
doors. "And the camera, Baroness, if you could show us your awesome display of
icicles, again..."
Achkvve regards Damn-Yankee with the irredeemable pinpoints
of her scoarched, burning eyes, "Afraid... Smells..." She seems drawn away
from him, her sinewy brow tensing to regard a chemicle temptation. She strides
a stepf roward, her gaze scouring her surroundings, though, it is not truly
they which explore, but rather, her skin. She can feel the minute variations
tickling and stinging, drawing her, teasing her. Her tail writhes behind her
in perfect mimicry of a feline stalking the scent trail of it's prey... and
then, she is standing before a closet door, "Here..." She exhales a sublime
pleased remark, "Something come... or gone... here."
"Do I detect a hint of displeasure in my actions?" She
questions, her voice sharper than the icicle she flaunted so proudly earlier.
Pausing long enough to savor another fill of smoke, Fehu adds, "Humans, can't
live with 'em, can't live without 'em." and laughs to herself, making another
funny that only she finds funny. Moving deeper into the hallway, her footfalls
silent, the cameras all shatter simultaneously as the ice shards appear once
more. A wry grin is hidden behind her smoke, accentuated by the buzzing of
electric wires yelping in pain and sparks scattering the floor.
Trooper-Yankee smirks at Fehu. "No, I'm simply
thankful to have you along, Baroness." He raises a brow at Achkvve, peering at
the door. He steps back, glancing at Achkvve. "Can you smell traces of
chemicals or components usually used in explosives, or is that beyond your
capability?"
Echo moves to the center of her group,
cautiously watching for anything of note.
The alien says nothing in reply to the Infernal trooper, it
merely responds by raising a hand... holding it's palm out perpendicular to
the closet door surface. It then weaves it slowly back and forth, up and down,
only a few milimeters above the door itself... disturbing the streams of
lingereing components that drift just within the structure's personal
atmospheric memory of past odors. She 'feels' across the door jam, the cracks,
the door knob, and the floor, a blood hound whose flesh is it's
hyper-senseitive nose. She is driven by the sheer volumne of disgusting odors
these creatures leave to make such a painfully obvious trail.
Trooper-Yankee waits politely for Achkvve to complete
her task. If she doesn't find anything, he'll try the 'carefully opening door'
strategy. If that doesn't work, he has to shift to plan B, 'kick the frigging
door in'. He's hoping he won't need Plan B.
Achkvve seems finished with the door, and merely dismisses it
from her realm of recognition. She says nothing to stem the Trooper's
curiosity, perhaps her abrupt disinterest testament enough to her findings.
Trooper-Yankee pauses, then reaches out for the knob.
"I suggest you step back." He turns it, wincing behind his facemask. He hopes
this doesn't result in some sort of explosion.
No explosion...the door opens...
"There's movement." Fehu states idly, plucking the cigarette
from her lips to examine how much she has left before balancing it upon her
lower lip. "Pissed off, too." she elaborates as she slides her mechanical hand
through her silvery-white hair, smoothing some strands over her ear, "Some
guns, a barricade, and ehh...a bit of darkness.."
Broom Closet
A small, stuffy closet, with a shelf of supplies, and some covers over
objects, and a few buckets, one with a mop sticking out. It smells of
mothballs and cheap cleaning fluid.
Obvious exits:
Trooper-Yankee runs his light over the closet. As he
does this, he idly asks, "You can tell this, Fehu?"
Another dark, silent room. Not that it's big enough to hold very much...
Another camera. Whoo. Who would put a camera in a broom closet? A real problem
with people stealing supplies, these Undergrounders must have.
From the way the dust is disturbed, and the way things look like they've been
hastily stuck in place, this broom closet must get more traffic than is common.
"Oh yee of little faith, who follow the Shepard into the Light,
only to be cast out into warm embrace of your One True Mother who Lies, and
lies...and lies...and lies...lies...lies.." she continues to repeat this, each
time the volume of her voice being lessened as though some greater being was
turning the dial to her speech. Once again, the camera explodes and the
Baroness suckles on her cigarette tenderly, a metallic hand growling irritably
while her other rests upon the hilt of her sword.
Trooper-Yankee looks up at the camera, doing a little
wave to it. Just to be cool, like an action movie hero. He does this before it
explodes, ignoring Fehu's nonsensical ramblings. Using the muzzle of his gun
he gently pushes the shelf in the back aside.
KABOOM! The Yank runs right into another rigged door, this time it blows up
right on him and takes off his arm, leaving a stump spurting blood and pieces
of gun everywhere...
Trooper-Yankee flies backwards, towards the
conveniently standing Achkvve and Fehu. "FUCKING SHIT! STUPID FUCKING
UNDERGROUND!" he screams, blood splattered on the walls and ceiling from the
event.
Achkvve vanishes suddenly from where she stands as the shower
of debris spews out of the trapped space. As the shredding pepper of bits of
wood, nails, flesh and bone dessists, she reappears in the exact same place,
posture the same as it was, as if she had merely 'blinked' out of the physical
realm.
Echo dashes up to DY, almost ripping the red
box from her belt, she looks at his wound and then mutters, "Screw it..." and
puts the box away, and begins concentrating.
Unable to contain herself, the Demoness bursts into laughter,
dropping the cigarette from her mouth. Her eyes begin to water and a stray
hand moves to gather up the tears protectively while she side-steps the
tumbling Yankee. Glancing towards him, a continued expression of childish
ammusement wrinkling up her face, she asks, "And who be the more foolish? The
Fools, or the Fools who don't learn their lesson?" Once more, she perverts a
famous saying to suit her needs before glancing towards the explosion's
remnants, the blood finally catching up and splattering itself all across her
flank. A foot of her's reaches out to crush the cigarette, snuffing the embers
out.
Trooper-Yankee grunts in pain, clenching his teeth as
he lies on the ground. Apparently, he's with it enough to yell, "Fuck you, Fehu!
I don't need commentary right now!"
Echo concentrates for a few moments, muttering
some kind of chant. A good majority of DY's injuries begins to heal.
Lifting both eyebrows at Yankee's language, the Demoness states,
"On the contrary, Special Operative, I would think you do..." and just smiles
the smile she once used as an angel.
Trooper-Yankee growls lowly, a mixture of pain and
just general pissed-off-ness. "Thanks, Corporal." His arm reforms, several
bloody rips apparent. He stands, a transparent gel coating the arm, the
remaining damage healing, before the black armor returns. Stepping outside, he
borrows a pistol from a guard outside. He'll have to grab another Thompson
later. "Achkvve, you'd better go along with me when we go in there. We're
doing this more carefully, now, and I need your talents..." He talks into his
headset, sending out a transmission. **I think we found it. Upstairs, closet.
Go in single-file.** Letting a guard behind him light the tunnel for him, he
begins to cautiosly step into the breach.
Cave Stairway
Several flights of stairs lead downward into the earth, the white plaster
walls of the house ending at ground level and from there on is a tunnel of
red-brown rock on all sides and above, apparently, a natural vent, the
concrete steps poured in. A thick cable and some pipes run overhead carrying
electricity and other things down below. Bare lightbulbs every 200 feet or so
shed light upon the stairs, and there are occasional torches ready just in
case. Darkness consumes the lower levels of the stairwell.
Again...dark, quiet...cameras at the top and bottom...
Again, those damned cameras explode.
Damn straight.
Achkvve's eyes glaze over with a field of boiling red that
fades into a cold, greyed form of heat-senseitive vision. Like a chameleon
adopting the hues that surround it, her flesh alters shade according to the
behavior demanded of it... and so again, it goes pale, abandoning layers of
interfereing blood and tissue density to enhance her senseitive to all that
surrounds her. A huntress in her element, she stalks inch by inch forward.
Searching, feeling, tasting.
Trooper-Yankee slowly descends, near Achkvve, pistol
bared. The line of troopers goes down single-file behind them, as more rush in
from outside. Hellfire chief amongst them. Rock is a bit more comforting,
however...Less places to hide traps...He keeps his eyes on the walls, ceiling,
and stairs as the lights trace ahead of them. The only sound is footsteps,
everyone keeping their ears open for the falling of pebbles, indicating
unstable rock.
"Fear... panic.." Achkvve lists that which she detects, "But...
before... not now. So afraid were they... so nervous.." Her eyes fix on traces n
visible traces of chemicles still clinging to the walls, and she adds,
"Blood... thick blood."
As the first troopers near the bottom of the stairs, you feel and hear a
muffled BOOM! Then the earth trembles. The sky falls on you! Stone crashing
down, all along the stairway...
Not much space to get away, in this narrow passageway through the rock...
Achkvve reacts instantly to the large explosion, ducking and
sprinting to the side, her tailing lashing out to whip aside lighter stones
that descend to crash down ontop of her. Yet, even given her reflexes, the
space is too tight and cramped to escape the deadly descent of the ceiling.
Her eyes flash to the hard rain of chunks of matter, attempting to knife
through for even a speck of empty space behind them.
The troopers emitting various screams of fear, Yank
himself chooses to quickly curl into a ball, using his organic armor to shield
most of the blunt impact. He'll use shapeshifting to dig himself out later.
Alpha squad is now either silent, or groaning in pain, amongst the collapsed
stone.
"This place reaks of the unharvested, as Achkvve speaks of. Did
your Intelligence disclose the information regarding-" Fehu falls silent, for
once, muffled by the tumblings of rocks and stones from the ceiling.
The Demoness flits into a pile of plasmic- water,
before liquid, than gaseous. There she 'floats' mingled across the boulders
and slowly collaesquing against them.
Echo attempts to dive out of the way of the
falling rubble...but there really isn't any place to go, being in the center of
the group.
The collapse leaves the stairs completely blocked at the bottom. Piles of rock
and stuff make a mess at the upper end... but it is a bigger room now, or at
least has a higher ceiling, for what good that does you...
Trooper-Yankee remains in the ball, grunting in pain
at the pressure of the rocks. This hurts. A lot. He's blowing this place to
hell. Definately. The rock shifts around where he is, and suddenly, a bloodied
arm bursts out. Crawling out of the rubble, its apparent that his clothes are
pretty much gone, a few tatters here and there, along with his armor. He's
covered in blood, various gashes and wounds peppering his body. "Armor took
the worst of it..." he gasps. "How the fuck did they do that? Rig explosions
inside the earth itself? Shit..." he mutters to himself, absentmindedly,
bloody locks of hair obscuring his face.
Doing the whole floaty thing, the mist that was once the Demoness creeps along
the room. It squishes in-between the rocks, puffing up in places, before
oozing out along the fringes of the boulders. She, it, thing, brushes
across the space the door blocked, nustleing against it, before searching for
a space underneath the frame to ooze into the ajacent room.
A fist pummels through a huge chunk of debris pressing into
the crushed body of the alien-fae. Bloodied, flesh peeled back to expose
sinew, knucklbones, and a mesh of puss seaping tissue show all along the
length of her battered arm. Finger-tips like claws slice into the surrounding
piles of rock and wood, hefting her body from the heavy layers packed into the
tight, flooded stairwell. When her head pops up, one pinpoint of light
indicating an eye still shines, the other is dim, and from it's socket there
seaps a black, foul smelling ichor.
Trooper-Yankee looks up as Achkvve gets out too. He'll
attend to his own rather sizeable wounds soon enough, but he'll take care of
that later. Grabbing onto a nearby outcropping he pulls himself to his feet,
limping his way up the tunnel, through the rock. As a hand breaks out, he
pulls it up. Another guard gets up, further along the way. Great. Six people
come down in Alpha, two survive. Time to fish for corpses. "Shit...Fehu, what
did you say earlier? The unharvested? Our informant was pretty damned scared
of /something/ around here, and said the Underground couldn't protect his
bodies, which it got...The guy had flashbacks, screaming, etc...Whatever it
was, was bad. It could have been a demon, or Fae, or...Something else..."
Plucking her body from the remains of the collapsed ceiling,
the alien's body begins to bind it's own wounds in an instantaneous effort to
repair itself. Only a few wounds sag agape when the process appears complete,
exposing a rib bone, or section of cartiledge. She squats sprawled out on the
surface of the rocks like a frog whose limbs are splayed across the surface of
a pond, desperately seeking boyancey.
The mist presses against the door, attempting to squeeze itself
through the cracks. Not even near half-way though, it hears Yankee's questions
and funnels up to the top of the rocks. There, Fehu manifests herself
with arms folded across her chest, feet spaced out for optimum balance, and
white hair smoothed along her back in a streak of glistening sheen. "The
unharvested. Erm, Ghosts if you will. This place reeks of them and of some
trauma the Underground faced previously. Details escape me at the moment." she
could be potentially lieing, deciding it not prudent to divulge details just
to see how the Commander will react. So, a classic Fehu-smile pulls at her
lips moments before she explodes into steam once more and floats back to the
door.
Trooper-Yankee purses his lips. "Of course." He sits,
along with the two other guards, idly pulling away rocks over Echo's corpse.
"The guys coming up will dig us out soon. I should heal a few of my wounds,
too. And shift myself some clothes."
Achkvve remains still, curled up in place like a fetus
hybernating in the womb, awaiting the inevidable pinpoint of escape to show
itself.
Trooper-Yankee's own body begins correcting itself,
painful sounding snaps and crunchs of bone as he straightens himself out.
Sitting cross-legged beside Yankee, the Demoness preens herself
free of meaningless lint and random grime. Fehu laps at her index finger and
re-aligns her hair properly against her head. A small smile, an image of
childish game, remains firmly affixed to her now. Azure eyes, swollen in
crimson lining, watch the Leader's movements with silent scrutinty like she's
tallying some points, and subtracting others, to gain a final score on his
actions. Though she says nothing, her body's posture accenting an alertness
prominently displays some aspect of her thoughts.
Trooper-Yankee then announces to no one in particular,
"Mmkay. We're gonna blow the place up. The house, I mean. Patrol the nearby
sewers, and have MageOps work on getting down there. We'll trap the bastards,
and pump something in. Water, perhaps. Or fire. Maybe someone can give us
lava. That would rule." He nods to himself. Right now, he isn't really in
'plan' mode.
Fehu shakes her head, tsk-ing softly, and lifts up to her feet.
"Then you will have to excuse me, but being blown to itty bitty microscopic
smaller than a muon piece isn't really how I wish to spend this day." A deep
frown folds across her face, winkles from stress splitting across her face
into deep ravines, as she looks to where the door is blocked back to Yankee,
"Bombs are expensive." She than states for a casual farewell before walking
back the way they came, obviously not going anywhere but acting like it, while
stumbling over some step and roof pieces.
Trooper-Yankee waves a hand dismissively at Fehu.
"Well, we can do what we did to that big, stupid stone tower. Turn the ground
below it to lava. Rock, paper, scissors, lava. Lava wins every time, man.
Maybe Tommy Lee Jones, but that was only a movie. Unless, like, we can find a
Fae version of his character. That would be fucking creepy."
Achkvve rises from where sits in the rubble, and, in the small space available,
begins creeping up the ascending grain. She attempts to make her way back up
to the door that lead them into this doomed-stretch of space.
"If Lava wins every time, Special Operative, than am I to assume
that the Hierarchy should simply overflow the Lake of Fire onto Earth to
gather all the unchosen?" Halting her steps, Fehu looks at Yankee from over
her shoulder, milk-white hair rolling away from her face like light running
from the shadows, "Or is there an ounce of class, or creativity firmly
imbedded into our tactics?"
Trooper-Yankee waves a hand. "It'd be easy enough to
just kill all the bastards, Fehu. But the problem is, we need to know their
capabilities..." Guards have reached the door by now, and are beginning to
remove rubble, to get it open.
Trooper-Yankee says "As in, what they have down here,
and what they might have elsewhere."
"Is it your lies? Is that how we know you're right?" Again, that reference to
lies, before Fehu appends, "Check the door for bombs, this time,
and make sure to send the Guard you don't like into the room first." Keeping
her back to Yankee, she looks at the other guards enter the room passivly,
eyes half-lidded, face expressionless, and body as relaxed as the sea is
liquid.
Achkvve claws her way through that which stands between her and
the surface, her hands, though bare, sinewy and powerful, and as she grips
chunks of rock, she crushes them with the same fervor one competetor might
squeeze the heart of the other. Simultaneously, her tail spikes forward to pry
beams of wood and smaller sections of rock from her path.
Trooper-Yankee snorts. "Lies? I speak what I know. Its
harder than you think to check the door for booby-traps, Fehu, especially when
I don't have all sorts of nifty powers. And I'm not sending a guard in on
point just because I don't like him. That's irresponsible and unbecoming of a
commanding officer."
Achkvve continues boring towards the surface, perhaps trading
the effort of clawing her way into the domicile of her apparent enemies for
the effort of clawing towards freedom. What she can not move, she pummels with
her fists until it is pulverized.
Achkvve, once reaching the door, plunges her tail through
it's midsecion, hooks it's clawed tips back against the opposing side, and snaps
back on it to tear it from it's hinges.
(OOC) Trooper-Yankee says, "I'm gonna log off, now. Assume the building
remains occupied by Citadel troops, and we all get out of this shaft."
Closet
A plain looking door leading to the broom closet.
Tunnel
Secret exit behind a shelf.
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