[b]Chihuahuan Desert, Mexico[/b] 

Vig dodged another slash of the machete, countered a roundhouse kick from Bloodsport. “This is mighty unsociable, Bloodsport,” he complained as he smashed an uppercut into the villain's exposed side, causing him to stuble back a few paces. “I'm a guest in this here lab, you don't make a fella feel very welcome.” He tilted his head as he heard Perseus' instructions over the commlink. "Vig! Finish up with that blowhard! I need him alive!" 

“You got it, bossman,” Vigilante said as Bloodsport charged at him again, throwing another punch with his steel-shod hand. It was a powerful running hook, probably could have done some serious damage if it connected. Vig quickly swept his white cowboy hat off his head, turned it around, caught Bloodsport's fist in the crown. Vig took advantage of the split second of confusion to draw his revolver with his left hand and fire one round point blank. Directly into Bloodsport's foot. As the man howled in pain, Vig quickly smashed the heavy wood butt of the revolver directly into the soft underside of his jaw. He pitched forwards, unconscious, right over Vigilante's shoulder.

With Bloodsport out of the fight, Vig took a moment to twirl and holster his revolver as he took stock of the situation. The flames seemed to be dying to embers- guess he had the newcomer to thank for that as he saw some of the blaze drawn into her body. The danger was far from passed, though- mechs spewed bullets and Perseus traded blows with Blockbuster. Peachy. 

Vigilante realized what he could do to help though- most of the civilians were Mexican or Central American. It was likely most if not all spoke no English, but thankfully he was fluent in Spanish. “GL, I'm gonna give you a hand evacuating the civilians and our prisoner,” he said as he used his rope to bind Bloodsport hand and foot.

“Listen!” he yelled in Spanish. “We're here to help and we're going to get you out of here. I need you to stay calm and stay under this green light. Anyone wearing yellow, I'm sorry but you'll need to take it off. If you can stand and walk, help the children and the wounded.”
[b]
Tak Province, Thailand[/b]

She was coming down. 

Angela Mannheim hated that feeling more than anything else in the world. She could feel her skin softening, her strength fading. She felt weak. Helpless.

She kicked away the head of the man she had just killed. Fortunately the firefight seemed to be more or less over- between her rampaging self and the superior weapons, tactics, and training of her team the drug milita had been reduced to a few individual holdouts who had barricaded themselves into the handful of buildings in the compounds. They wouldn't last much longer. With this operation eliminated the others in the hills would soon fall in line. Another victory.

She sat down on the pile of eviscerated corpses she had stacked up to catch her breath. Her outfit was ruined, soaked in blood and shredded by bullets. She always felt a little sort of breath when the Miralco wore off, time to rest a little.

The screams and gunfire died down under the sound of state-of-the-art plasma weapons, and she knew her people had won. Might as well check her messages while she was resting. The Pretty Lady pulled out her Legion-issued commlink and went through.

About what she expected. Indignant demands from Sin Tzu to join the assault on the urban centers. Like there wasn't enough freaks spilling blood there already. Someone had to think of the economic future. And the coming of the Elite, of course.

Messages from China White. She had wanted this territory for herself. Mannheim rolled her huge blue eyes. Should have taken it, then, or better yet accepted a generous offer to convert to the Religion of Crime and join Intergang. But no. Angela sent back a simple message as she idly attempted to flick dried blood from her fingernails.

“You're next, China White.”