Summary: The Citadel completes its attack on the once-secret base of the Underground in the City. This time, they find a lot of vicious green goo, but no living Undergrounders.
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.
The townhouse shows all the signs of having been occupied by Citadel troops for the past few weeks. The staircase up is still dismantled, just a few steel posts stretching up. A "short-cut" to the once-hidden underground levels has been opened into the floor.
Contents:
Hole in the Floor
A big, crude hole in the floor. It opens to a broad tunnel that leadss straight to the UG's stairway. It shows signs of digging equipment, etc., being moved in and out, carting away the rubble that was blocking the bottom of the stairway...
Trooper-Yankee, Citadel Special Forces
Standing just about an inch above six feet, this individual is an imposing one indeed. From head to toe he's covered in glossy armor, although its not metal or plastic...More akin to some strange type of insect shell and very large spiderweb, extremely hard.
His black helmet clings tightly to his head, not overly large...It appears very similiar to a motocross helmet. But, varying from a motocross helmet, the brim over the eyes is pointed, like a beak, and curving downwards, the piece over the mouth with openings running up and down, like a car's grill. Brown, battleworn eyes and scarred, tanned skin are visible in the opening about the eyes, his mouth visible through the grill now and then. His neck is completely incased in this hard armor, going into a jointed neck.
His upper body is made of the same glossy his helmet is, black webbing running across it and wrapping about the shoulders, collar, and waist, strands connected these points symmetrically. Under the strands, the rigid armor mimics that of human muscle, but in sharp, angular manners...The pectoral muscles are represented by a pair of plates jutting out slightly, their bottoms defined from the rest of the armor. In a sharp, polygonal arch, his abdomen is defined, squares with cut off corners representing abs.
Armored arms emerge from shoulderplates with go well over the arm, ending in points, curving down like beaks. His arms are incased in that black armor, the joints parting to reveal some type of tough, gray skin for movement. Black bracers are on his forearms, hands revealed...Although, over the back of each hand, there is an area of armor ending in a curving point, protecting it incase of the need to deliver a backhand. Twin claws emerge from each forearm, stretching out six inchs beyond the fist when extended, resting behind the hand when retracted.
The waist opens up, tough skin beneath, soon yielding to his lower body piece, which protects his groin and buttocks area fully, ending as the thighs begin. The thigh's armor is simple, black, glossy shell, thick webbing over it in 'X' patterns, going into rounded kneeplates...The back of the knee has simple tough skin, once more, for movement, the shinplates smooth, going into hard feet, covered in armor...
Power. Muted agility. Determination. Cruelty. Efficiency. Silence. And carved into the armor of his back is the logo of the Citadel...
Aragoch
Freed from the confines of his usual robe, this creature is a sight to behold, his form a twisted mockery of the glory he might once have held as an Angel. Hunched over, he might actually be considered tall if he could straighten, yet seems to be constantly struggling beneath some terrible load. The flesh of his body is withered and worn, the color a brown stained with black which seems to speak of eternal decay. His ribs strain against this tight coating, as do all the bones of his body, the tips of his finger bones having actually worn through, creating a dreadful contrast of pure white. When at rest, his legs bend at the knee, dropping him down even further, and even when he is moving one seems reluctant to come with him, forcing a limp upon him.
However, all of this is not what immediately draws your attention to him. Instead, it is the hideous halo of ropy tendrils which spread out from his back, composed of the same desiccated flesh as the rest of his body, but surprisingly dextrous. They constantly quest around in the air and ground around him, extending to as much as two meters way from him, and seemingly acting of their own will, unless he focuses on controlling them. Once one drags ones eyes from them, it's his face that you see, lips taut, bloodless things pulled tight across yellowed teeth stuck in a dry mouth, empty of a tongue. His eyes are soulless black pits, deep within their sockets, unsettling in how they always seem to be staring right at one, even when he is focused on something else.
Jaq
You see a petite young woman, perhaps 21 years of age, with a slender athletic figure. Her long, dark black hair spills out beneath a beret. Her eyes, a mysterious grey colour, are observant. Her skin colour is slightly pale. She rarely, if ever, smiles.
She wears a long grey skirt and matching blazer - the Citadel emblem emblazoned over the left breast pocket.
Carrying:
Citadel Issue Rifle
Citadel Issue Armor
A strong wind comes blowing in from the west. It pushes the intense heat out of the city and into the plains. Garbage and dirt flies through the air and streets, blinding people and hitting them in the faces with old newspapers. No longer do people pass out from heat stroke, or buildings catch on fire. Once again the residents of Babylon put on their coats and pull their hooded sweatshirts down over the heads. A welcome change from the Summer of Flames.
In the foyer, a large gathering of troops have been assembled. Made up of five squads of five soldiers apiece, clad in their red and crimson bodysuits (with assault rifles), its a tad cramped, especially with the sergeant attached to each squad. Thirty normal GroundOps people. Wow. In addition, there's three demolitions experts, to the side, and a group of four heavily armored, towering demons, with armored tanks on their backs and flamethrowers in their hands.
Yank descends from a patched together stairway, in his organic armor. "Greetings, troops. And welcome to a critical moment in this City's history."
Aragoch is crouched off in one of the more shaded corners, a couple of meters from the nearest of the troops, even in this crowded setting. He is simply hunched there, apparently lost in his own thoughts, head bowed with his tendrils waving slowly in the air around him, occasionally probing about and undernetah one of the few bits of rubble that remain. However, then the majordomo arrives, and his head comes up, eyes focusing on him with sudden intensity, fingers flexing and stretching.
Jaq stands, ready and waiting, with her squad of five but as Trooper-Yankee starts to speak, a ghost of a smile drifts across her face. She listens intently.
Trooper-Yankee continues speaking. "We're ready to descend down into the Underground complex. GroundOps, made of Squads Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Sigma, and Kappa, will be the primary force inside. (OOC: Jaq can assume she commands Alpha) After our MageOps representative provides us with some type of transmutated distraction to cause havoc amongst the UGers waiting for us at the entrance, Alpha goes in. Then the others. If we have any spots of heavy resistance, Hellfire *motions to the heavily armored demons* goes in. Tinderbox is to go in if we locate a secured area with explosives rigged there. Do /not/ call them into a firefight. Remember, be careful of traps, they're expecting us. This will be a bloody battle. If another guard goes down, remember to grab his body and haul him out before we detonate the place. Any questions?"
Jaq listens carefully, taking note of the instructions given, the smile upon her face having long since disappeared. She surveys her squad, Alpha, to ensure they are all listening and have understood the orders too.
Trooper-Yankee begins moving to the hole, getting his new Thompson out. "Alpha, Mage Aragoch, Hellfire, behind me. We'll radio when for everyone else to proceed in, two by two."
Cut to...
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.
Currently, the rubble has just about been cleared away from where the tunnel collapsed over the lower flights of stairs. A steel door is revealed at the end of the stairwell.
Aragoch follows along silently behind the heavily armored soldiers, tendrils curling up into a writhing mass against his back as he begins already to draw his focus together, bringing his mind down to focusing on his abilities even before they're needed so that, when the time comes, he will be ready to unleash them.
The place is quiet this time... no more of the ubiquitous Underground surveillance cameras, either.
However, the edges of the door at the bottom of the stairwell look oddly corroded. Tinged with a sticky green seepage of goo.
Trooper-Yankee slowly strolls down the rocky stairwell, slightly uneven here and there from the great tumult of boulders. A satchel hanging off his left shoulder, he pauses, about twenty feet from the door. Alpha, Hellfire, and Aragoch behind him, he looks back. "I'll put this charge at the door, then get back. After its gone, we'll fire and move to the door, to get Aragoch a line of sight to his targets inside. Then, he does his transmutation gig, and we move in." That said, he fiddles with something with the satchel, throws it the remaining twenty or so feet down the stairs, allowing it to hit the door roughly. Reading his weapon, he levels it at the door, crouching slightly, and motioning Jaq beside him to do the same, as those behind them ready themselves. Then, boom.
Jaq listens silently, calm and collected. She nods to Yank, readying her rifle and motioning for the rest of her squad to do likewise, peering into the darkness.
KABOOM! The charges go off, blowing the door open... onto darkness. The flash from the explosion reveals a glimpse of something like rough liquid on the floor in the tunnel on the other side. No movement, no nothing...
Trooper-Yankee registers the liquid in the back of his head, but pays no heed to it now. Sending a burst of fire down into the door, he begins to quickly crouch-walk down the stairs, glancing behind him for a moment. "Aragoch, behind us! Diversion! Quick!"
Aragoch nods and closes his eyes, throwing his arms out wide so that they point straight out towards the walls. And as if mimicking those limbs, his tendrils snap out suddenly taut as well until they form a ring around him, each on touching a point on the floor, walls or ceiling exactly distant from the next one. The mage then channels his abilities through these tentacle sinto the very walls, gritting hsi teeth under the strain as he brings his concentration to bear, focusing all his energies into it and then his arms snap forward, rleasing the power he's built up...
The bullets fill the tunnel with a deafening noise, gunfire, the impact on stone walls, etc., echoes... you seem to meet with no resistance. Absolutely none. Except... the first in may notice the ground feels strange under them. Oddly foamy, a queer glint of green, a sinking sensation...
There is quiet a moment, almost an anticlimax after the brief show the demon put on... but then, down beyond where the Citadel troops can see, a faint hissing sound echoes as the very air beyond is molecularly rearranged, taking on a disturbing yellow tint of its own, and carried by its own greater weight than air, begins to pour down even further into the complex, seeping under doors and flowing around corners. Mustard gas, and extremely concentrated in fact, though it is beginning to dissipate in the expanses it fills. Any unprotected human it comes across feels their eyes and exposed membranes burn like fire, then begin to shrivel... and that's the nice effect.
Trooper-Yankee recognizes the effect ahead, and grumbles. Time to wait a little. The others might fare a little better, with their bodysuits and breathing filters, but he won't. He motions for them to wait, allowing the gas to run its course and dissipate enough for them to move in. In the meantime, he kneels, running a bared finger through the green goo curiously.
Perhaps you expect to hear screams, or at least outcries and curses... but nothing comes back from the dark tunnel. A dreadful silence, as the gas fills the space... corpses might be expected to have more reaction.
Trooper-Yankee stands up, jerking his fingers away and backpedalling. "This isn't right..." He shakes his hand about rapidly, trying to get the feeling back. "Poison, or something...There should be some larger reaction from the gas than /nothing/...People, activate your radios, and maintain contact. Lights on." He flicks the light mounted below the barrel of his gun on. The other rifles have similiar apparatuses.
Aragoch falls to his knees as he pours out his energy into the effect, leaving choking in pain for a moment as he's expended his energy reserves, a black ichor dripping from between his lips as he struggles to recover from the momentary gain of his illness. He does win out a few minutes later, and struggles back up to his feet, nodding in agreement with Yank's interpreation of events,"They seem to have evacuated, commander. It is simply a matter of where to."
Jaq switches, first, the radio on followed by the light mounted upon her rifle. "Where to" she murmurs, voice soft, with the faintest hint of a French Canadian accent. She turns to regard Yankee questioningly, awaiting further orders.
Trooper-Yankee looks between the group at the entrance. "We'll wait here until that gas disperses. I don't like this at all. That stuff on the ground reacted with my skin...And we would have noticed a migration, Aragoch...We've been patrolling the sewers, and would have noticed a large teleportation, anyways..." He thinks, then a look of horror overcomes his hidden face. "Our informant mentioned that there was something unusual down here...Some sort of...Monster?" Looking down at his feet, he moves his foot about in the goo uneasily.
Aragoch shakes his head slowly noting softly in the hoarse, raspy voice that marks him,"Sir, there are no such things as monsters." he pauses, and looks at the goo on the ground, then notes even more quietly, "But there are rogue powers we know little about. The Fae perhaps, or a Demon who chose to strike before we could." He looks back down into the darkness, "Whatever it is, the gas may well set it off."
Jaq fidgets uneasily, a frown marring her already pale face. "Ta mere" she mutters just under her breath. "What is our next move?" she asks in English.
Trooper-Yankee glances to Jaq. "We have to wait. Once the gas is thinned out and hugging the ground, we'll move. For now, we gotta wait. This will call for a little exploration...Whatever happened down here...We have to find out what it was..."
Aragoch slowly rubs his jaw, then motions to one of the troopers above them, calling up,"Throw me down one of the collection sets I brought with me." A soldier up there drops down what amounts to test tubes and slides and such with an occult twist, and the mage goes about collecting some of the goo for later study, noting absently to DY,"If there /is/ a power down there, sir, if I may suggest capture for possible exploitation?..."
Trooper-Yankee peers down at the faint layer of gas at his feet. Pointing his light forward, he begins to slowly walk down the tunnel, letting Alpha trail him, then Hellfire at the rear. "Aragoch, I think its time to get rid of the gas. You can come along, if you like, to lend your expertise."
Aragoch frowns a bit, and shakes his head irritably, having done with collecting his samples. "The gas is doing nothing, sir, and I judge you to be correct." His eyes shut a moment, and then the same hiss resounds, and the gas becomes simple air once more, actually cleaner than it was before he did this. "And my thanks for the invitation. I will come with you."
On to...
Tunnel Entrance - Underground Complex
The air is cold and dry within the rocky tunnel, and it is rarely ever quiet with the sounds of the City pounding overhead. Light is scarce, provided by a few bare bulbs strung along the ceiling on thick, black wires, but there is enough for one to see by. The walls are rough, dry, and cold to the touch. The floor seems to be smooth enough to walk on, but quite a few rocks are piled up out of the way.
The tunnel stretches further into the earth, and at times, a pinprick of light can be seen at its end. On either side are dim, dark openings that lead into other areas.
Jaq follows swiftly behind the commanding officer trying not to mind the goo, the rest of her squad in tow, keeping the light mounted on the end of her rifle trained upon the ground in front of her.
Trooper-Yankee slowly walks down the corridor, at the lead, light tracing back and forth. Y'know, most people wouldn't go into a goo-infested, abandoned complex. But Hell, there might be Really Cool Stuff. "Nothin' yet..." he mutters into his radio.
Nothing. Darkness. The tunnel is quiet...deeper in, the liquid level rises. On the surface, a foamy greenish-black, spotted with purple. In the foam you see an occasional flash of paleness. Is that a bone? A bare skull floating in it? Parts of the tunnel look like they have collapsed. Bits of rubble stick out from the foam. And the tunnel walls have rough spots where it looks like something caved in.
Aragoch is forced to but his clothing, given to him by a soldier once more, back on to protect him from the liquid, simply staring about in interest, amused by the flashes of palness and pondering trying to get one for another sample, should it truly be bone.
Moving deeper in, to...
Tunnel's End - Underground Complex
Above, a thick black wire runs across the ceiling, and in mostly even intervals, thinner wires bearing bulbs dangle down. Yet, as one progresses down the tunnel, the wires get shorter. The reason is simple; the ceiling gets lower and the walls get narrower. By the time one has reached the recreation room at the very end, the tunnel is only a few inches higher than a tall man's head, then past the threshold it abruptly opens back up.
Currently, the tunnel is dark. It looks like some sort of earthquake or explosion has shaken the area. The side tunnels are now blocked off, and piles of rubble from the ceiling are strewn around the floor. A layer of thick, greenish-black liquid covers the floor, growing from waist-deep at this end to neck-deep at the far end. A lighter-colored foam lies atop the surface of the liquid. Pale bits of bone float in the foam.
Trooper-Yankee continues to slowly walk down the tunnel, having made a few small tweaks to his armor to make it so there are no gaps. Stopping at waist length, he glances back to the six GroundOps people behind him, and the distant Hellfire group of four, at the rear. Aragoch has since left, tha nks to the muck. He shines his scope about, peering at the liquid's depth at the end. "This is definately unusual," he says, outloud, but also speaking it into his radio.
As you wade deeper in, you start brushing against solid objects beneath the surface. Some of them feel like body parts, some are more angular, some metallic. Once a tire pops up in front of you. Then another piece from a car.
Your light causes specks of foam to fluoresce, but no light penetrates into the opaque depths.
Trooper-Yankee stays at around waist length, peering dow n at the end. By now, he's morphed a tough organic membrane over his hands. It'll impede his dexterity, but its worth it. He reaches out and moves to pick up a skull floating about, examining it.
As your hand reaches down, the liquid seems to burp. Then a wave splashes up, foam suddenly seeming to solidify around your hand! It starts glowing a bright green...
Little bubbles emerge from the area of the skull, spreading out in a ring.
You hear a gurgling noise...
Trooper-Yankee throws the skull back, beginning to slowly and carefully backpedal. "We have activity." The others mimic yank, beginning to slowly, carefully back up, not wanting to trip and fall into the goop.
The foam clings to your hand, still glowing. Your fingers start to feel strange. The disturbance in the liquid grows as the skull falls back in. Green circles ripple concentrically, then split and multiply. They start heading towards each of the troopers wading in the liquid...
Trooper-Yankee tries to scrape the stuff off on a wall, becoming mildly worried. As he hears various messages over his radio from the troops in the goop, one of the GroundOps guys panicking and falling backwards. Thankfully, his suit should protect him from the liquid. Still, he's pretty freaked out. "Begin to pull out. ORDERLY. We do /not/ need panic!"
Should...should...should...how much can you rely on "should", in the grim reality that Armageddon has become? The liquid rises up, a wave forming the shape of a giant octopus, that wraps its arms around the hapless GroundOps guy. It blazes a blinding green, then purple, then pulses red, and...
They all vanish. Octopus and GroundOps both. Then the ripples reach another one of the troops, and he falls to his knees, because his feet, boots and all, have just vanished...
Trooper-Yankee blinks, looking back. "Holy shit...Everyone...Run! Hellfire, see if this shit burns!" The group begins running out, a pair of GroundOps people grabbing the downed man by his shoulders and beginning to drag him out. Shocking loyalty for Damned. A large demon from Hellfire, meanstwh ile, uses his flamethrower to produce a small gout of flame, aiming it at the liquid's surface near the wall. Running through fire is better than being eaten.
As you retreat, Yankee's hand that was covered in foam melts and drips away... and another trooper's feet are cut off...and another, before you reach the relative safety of the higher parts of the tunnel. The flames lick at the liquid, but the liquid does not burn. Instead, it bubbles more furiously, spitting out waves of frothy green foam. But it lacks the mobility to follow you out of the tunnel ...
Trooper-Yankee stands at the higher areas of the tunnel, staring at the stump of his hand, then into the foamy mess. He's fighting off the panic, now, relaxing. Hey, at least it didn't hurt that much. "This is very, very strange..."
He glances to the troopers missing feet, and other parts. "Help them out of here...We have to figure out what to do with this stuff...I'm getting a few ideas already..."
Mixed with the sound of the flamethrowers, you can hear the angry hiss and gurgle of the green goo. Vague shapes heave themselves out of the surface, but dissolve back into foam before they can form anything definite. Small clots of bone and hair, cloth and rubber, steel and rock are spat out at the invaders. Where they hit, they explode like tiny grenades.
Trooper-Yankee grunts as a 'grenade' hits his black armor, beginning to walk back out of the goo, helping the downed troopers out. "Grea t. It uses fucking firecrackers, too."
Since everyone is wearing heavy armor, the tiny missiles are nothing but an annoyance.
Trooper-Yankee slowly makes it to what he judges to be beyond the range of the little things, now back at the blown out door. "We can use this stuff. We just gotta be careful. Alpha, help your wounded out. We're destroying this house, but we'll keep an entrance to this place, just in case..."
He grins under his helmet. "This would make an excellent place to dispose of prisoners...I doubt they'd be able to regenerate."
But the green goo now has a line to the Citadel...through contact with the troops...keep that in mind for the future...