Laura growled inaudibly against the whipping wind, her right foot and hand claws planted firmly in the side of a rock for stability. They didn't really have the tools necessary to take down the Shadow King, but if they didn't render Storm unconscious soon they could very well be casualties of the weather witch's insurmountable power. She retracted her claws and made a quick dash towards her teammates, individually they had about as much of a chance of "winning" as they did of winning the lottery. John was attempting to reason with the sort-of possessed Storm, to which Laura issued a grunt of disapproval. Among the varies plans of attack, Talon realized that he was definitely going to need a codename if they made it through this. Maybe Tectonic? She pushed the thought down, as if the pressing matters made that difficult. 

With some difficulty she tried to bark orders into her comm, "We must incapacitate Storm. As a [i]team[/i]." Not that her impatience would shine through the wind and rain assaulting everybody, but she still took a fraction of a second to regret the tone. She knew that, for all their drilling, everyone else would come to that realization too...but they needed to pull together on this one. Following one bad plan was better than three or four decent ones that contradicted each other. 

"John, I know it is Storm, but we have got to attack. Try and keep her busy and, maybe help me get to her. Plasma, can you fire pot-shots at her? Shadow King does not know how to use her powers like she does, she is feral. We need to take her down. Now." 

A bolt of lightning punctuated her sentence for her, she barely acknowledged her own reactions to the strike. It landed a few feet off, forcing her out of cover and into the open against the wind and slanted rain. The pelts felt like rocks and the wind made it hard to move much of anywhere. Instinctively, Laura threw her hands up to protect her eyes from the weather's onslaught before another bolt of lightning blasted straight through her. She felt the air sizzling around her, smelled her cooked flesh before her nerves even had a chance to react. Her heart had stopped and the metal in her hands and feet singed and cooked right onto the blades. The mic, of course, fried and sent feedback through the other comm links; her body simply rolled across the uncharacteristically muddy ground. 

It took a few moments for her to move again, for her heart to return to normal. She extended her claws, tearing the cauterized flesh so it would heal properly. Her muscles ached and continued to spasm as she pulled her self up, groggy at first before breaking into a sprint for new cover. Apparently Shadow King disliked coordination, perhaps it wasn't all wild strikes.