ErsatzEmperor — Roleplayer Guild

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12th November, 2017
The United Nations Headquarters
New York

"Get moving! This could turn to shit at any time."

In the time it takes Black Canary to summon her sonic scream, Wolverine's already to the opening in the building's wall. But it hits hard. The vibration ploughs into the gunmen and knocks Logan back, left with little time to react. He takes the full force, teeth gritted. His ears were an exposed nerve and she had just dragged a fish hook through it. Superhuman senses were a real bitch.

Planting a foot down, he powers through, letting out a roar. His claws shoot past his knuckles, housed above tightly-clenched fists as he walks on. His eyes water frantically, streaming into puddles made in the creases of his mask. The only sounds available to him are his own frantic breathing and the ringing in his ears. His eyes assess the mess in front of him. For all the trouble he caused Deadpool had missed. This wasn't even close to the main meeting room. Tiles from the floor had been strewn across the opening. He tenses, before leaping through the open wound, arms extended into otherwise obscuring smoke. He lands with a short roll, his back grazing the chipped floor. He'd live. The ringing in his head turns to swooshing as he finds his bearings. His eyes dart to all points around him. He rises up, casting a final look to the battle behind before he joins the one before him. Langkowski had two men in his grasp and was beating them promptly. The blonde was carrying on as she was (Logan really ought to have a word with her after all this) and Northstar was zipping between the rest. No sign of back up for a while then.

"Terrific."

While Alpha Flight made short work of the mercenaries outside he figured he could finally make some headway. This had gone so wrong so fast. He had to figure out what he was doing. He takes a sniff and the room begins to open to him. The smoke lay thick in the air still. His lungs had a daily diet of cigars and petrol-fumes, and could heal faster than it would take for the smoke to hurt him, so that wasn't a concern. Others weren't that lucky. The meeting room he found himself in was steeped in the rising pollutant, but he could smell something else. Eau de Cologne. He could just make out a heartbeat, but no breathing. He carries on forwards, stopping at the table making its home in the centre of the room. Planting his hands on the edge, he flips it over and to the side. There, having taken refuge below it, was a man on the edge of consciousness. He wouldn't be there for much longer.

"Christ... Come on." Wolverine grunts, already to him as he raises him into a fireman's lift. "We're getting out of here."

With a sharp kick he's through the office's door, into a main hallway. The gunshots and screams were even more apparent now. He makes to run.

"Looks like you've got yourself a guardian angel, bub."
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