[h2]Raymond Haywood: Trainyard[/h2]
Eventually, Raymond found himself in a position to stop shooting as often, giving him the opportunity to reload his weapon a second time. Meat layered the ground around- well, everyone, both the molten puddles of dissolving clones, and the still-solid pseudo-corpses that had been left to rot, or possibly dissolve in their own right. It was interesting, actually - he had never smelt this much blood before now. He was more used to coldly picking people off from hundreds of meters away than performing an up-close mass shooting.

That said, whilst he’d tried to ignore Troll’s words after his only real kill today, she’d still annoyed him a bit. Even so, now he knew roughly where the warehouse’s speakers were located; once he got the chance, he took aim at them, scoping in where he needed to, and shot to take them out of commission. No use risking everyone’s sanity for the sake of a little girl’s blathering, though the car that drove through one of the walls actually did his work for him there.

Then again, Heartless’ actions might have driven him mad anyway, listening to what he said over the comms as he took out Troll’s speakers. He could [i]not[/i] for the life of him believe what he was hearing; first he bullied a child into having a full-blown dinosaur freakout, then he tried to [i]save[/i] the same girl?! He’d just wanted him to shock her unconscious or tie her up in the first place, damn it!

Not to mention Jason’s insistence on him taking out a specific clone of this Overrun. ‘Yeah, we need a lot of them dead,’ he pointed out, before begrudgingly scoping in and taking aim.

[i]Target: Overrun, clone. Power: hurling of massive objects, similar function to Thunderbolt.[/i]

He took a moment to scope out and step round so he didn’t break his spine. Was that a roar- no, it didn’t matter. Scope in, take the shot.

[i]Headshot, instant kill. Shoot.[/i]

By the time he’d scoped out, everything had gone insane. He could only watch as the giant metal monster smashed head-first into the dinosaur that suddenly existed again, causing it to stop existing again, only to burst into a flash of light and disappear entirely with a hole in its body, followed by a beam of burning light sweeping a large chunk of the warehouse.

And THEN Chatterbox contacted the team, suggesting that the real him needed to be identified by the phrase “Purple Venom” and the response “Green Fever”. Wait, the [i]real[/i] Chatterbox?

It wasn’t often Headhunter got to say “what the fuck”, but...

‘What the fuck?’ he murmured to himself. Things were getting more ridiculous by the minute, more and more dangerous clones were popping up, and- oh yes, the warehouse was on fire.

To hell with this. They should have left a long time ago. ‘Headhunter to all Jacks: I don’t care how, but get out of the-’ he stated into the comms, pausing to shoot another clone before adding ‘out of the warehouse, [i]now.[/i] And tell us once you’re outside, at that.’ And with that, he turned, and began to wander toward the back of the warehouse himself.

The soldier he’d shot earlier was gone. No, wait, not gone, just outside - along with some kid in a mask. Apparently, there were also a large number of clones there: most seemed normal, but one appeared to be rather muscular, and another was shrouded in some kind of glowing mist. No matter.

[i]Targets: clones ahead. Headshot, instant kill. Target next viable clone one current is dead. Shoot. Shoot. Shoot.[/i]

By the time the misty one got up to him, all the others were dead. But that last clone was a real doozy: he couldn’t get a target on him. This realisation nearly cost him his heart, as they managed to claw through the armour at his chest like water before he started backpedalling. Shit, was that that clone’s power, some form of lethal intangibility? He needed... what he needed was a gun to shoot it with, that could...

That could [i]what?[/i], he asked himself, his gun falling to his waist as he, for the first time in a long time, panicked a little. This was an untenable situation for him. He was good at shooting things; what the hell could he hope to do against something that he couldn’t shoot?

Though he couldn’t, apparently someone else could. For whatever reason, the clone suddenly went down, felled by a wave of rubber bullets. A quick turn found Headhunter with a gun aimed at his face from a safe- for the firer- distance away, held by what appeared to be a female PRT soldier.

‘I’ll ask you, just in case you know: where is Skeetz?’ Corporal Johnson wasn’t in the mood for a fight, here. Whilst Margrave had apparently gone off to do his own thing again, she could at least see that he was with Lieutenant Reynolds and the rest of the Wards from here, and they all seemed to be moving out the front of the warehouse. Thank God for that. That still left one missing soldier, and since she’d been ordered to find him, find him she would.

Raymond took a moment to think about what she was asking, coming to the conclusion that she meant the guy he’d shot unconscious, then decided that he’d probably be best off complying. He could hit every one of her vital points if he wanted, but there was no way he’d get the scope up to his eye before she shot him. Besides, he realised, he and she both wanted to be in the same place at the end of the day.

‘Follow me,’ he uttered, turning to lead the soldier outside. Ten seconds later, he directed her to the bodies of her comrade, just starting to stir, and the masked kid who’d pulled him outside - and another clone of Overrun, sword raised dramatically to decapitate who he assumed was Skeetz.

[i]Target: Overrun clone. Headshot, instant kill. Shoot.[/i]

Even before he’d fired, Johnson had reacted, pelleting the target with rubber bullets from the hip, forcing it to drop its blade before it died. After that, Johnson began reloading, muttering ‘God damn it,’ to herself as Skeetz finally started comprehending what was going on.

‘Wh- what? Where am I? Who are these...’

‘Skeetz, you’re concussed, but alive,’ Johnson explained bluntly. ‘Do you think you can help me carry Overlook round the front? We’ll be able to get you both medical assistance once we’re out of here.’ The fallen soldier muttered something about trying, then shakily stood, just about keeping his balance. Lifting Overlook under an arm each, they began wandering off round the warehouse, leaving Headhunter to pick off a few more clones from outside the building, then simply waiting for anyone else to show. Whilst he was technically obliged to wait for them, if that place came down on their heads, he wasn’t going to mourn their dumb asses, nor was he going to dig through the rubble to find them.