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3 yrs ago
Current This all feels very nostalgic, I'm told.

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I'm just some guy, don't worry about me too much.

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V O R T E X

Bangkok, Thailand

January 3rd, 2052 | 12:01am | Streets


Vortex stood, in disbelief. He'd done it all. Fought and killed, and won. But he hadn't won. Goldilocks cheated, stole his victory right from under him. He could have called that speedster in any time he wanted. But he didn't. He waited until right before the moment of his triumph, and stole it from him at the last moment. He'd thrown himself into harm's way, and for nothing. He loved the chaos, and the murder, but that one last act had soured it all, like having a nice tall glass of the most delicious drink and finding a roach at the bottom. He had barely moved since the speedster taunted him, the words filling him with such incalculable fury he couldn't do anything but sit there in stunned silence. He hadn't done nothing, of course. After one of those assassins had stabbed him, he was sure to break her legs. The general's command room had been empty since. There was nothing of value here that couldn't be accessed elsewhere, and he was... unstable, like this. He wasn't the most destructive legionnaire, but he sure was one of the easiest to set off.

"It's not fair." he said flatly, looking off to one of his pistols, the one that had been sliced in half. It was seeking to mend itself, silvery nanite tendrils slowly dragging it across the floor to its other half, and when they met they would meld back together. He could obviously accelerate the process, but he was busy pouting. He hadn't even bothered to take the sword out of his shoulder. "Killing my way down here wasn't fucking easy. I'd rather have stayed above ground if he was gonna fuckin' do that." The assassin sort of writhed weakly, muffled cursing and sobbing impossible to make out. She couldn't move, but everything just hurt too much for her to pass out. She hadn't bled out, unfortunately. She was stuck with the madman until he was done with his pity party.

He sighed, looking down to her. How... pitiful, she was. She expected a bit more... defiance, but after about nine hours she broke down into a hopeless, sobbing wreck. He didn't rate these assassins too highly. Little Luthor would suffer for this, somehow. He'd probably forget, but Vortex would not. His vengeance would be inexplicable, unpredictable, and humiliating. He thought of asinine pranks like filling his toilet with concrete, or maybe stealing the head trophy and destroying it, maybe take revenge on Speed Demon instead, steal the steering wheel on his new fucking car... But that was all stuff that could be handled privately. No, he had to embarrass him, preferably in front of his father. "Yeah... that'll do." He said, reaching up to the grip of the sword, pulling it out an inch, and snapping the hilt right off. his body began to very slowly devour the metal for repairs, while he savagely beat the assassin to death with the broken hilt...

The Fortress of Doom, Location Unknown

January 5th, 2052 | 6:56am | Bank


A couple days passed. He'd returned to the fortress without a word, and people talked. Mostly sneers at his expense. Things got real quiet when he ignored them. He didn't lash out, or even acknowledge them. It was a little creepy, as normally he was incredibly easy to rile up. So something was obviously very wrong, and if Vortex was extremely upset, you left him alone if you didn't want to lose an arm. Some guy did get upset about not being answered and shoved him, and now he's at the chop-shop getting his fingers re-attached. In any case, the fortress had to wait, he had a fat wad of cash in hand, and he had business to attend to.

DATA CORRUPTED, USA

January 6th, 2052 | 3:01pm | Suburb


He stood across the street from a suburban home, dressed in a heavy trench coat. He didn't much like the look of them, but it was the only sort of garment that could hide his heavily modified form. There wasn't many people around at the moment. It was a school day, and many parents were off at work, perfect for his purposes. He sighed, stepping forward before vanishing into thin air. He reappeared inside the empty home, surveying the place. It was... Cozy. The furniture was soft and inviting, there was none of those fake-ass 'live, laugh, love' decorations. It could have been a home. He briefly clenched his talons, suppressing the urge to destroy it all. No. That wasn't what he was here for. He looked into the living room as his augments pinged. There was a camera set up in there. He sighed, there'd be none of that. He drew his gun, firing exactly one round. His body whirred with the effort as he carefully guided the bolt, directing the energy projectile into the camera. Small parts of it withered, enough to ruin it but not enough to cause too much damage.

'Safe', he stepped into the living room. There was a couch, a nice TV, a record player, a few Metallica posters here, an Iron Maiden poster there. But what was really of interest was the small 'memorial' set up in the corner. A large picture of a smiling man in military dress fatigues, a flag in a neat trifold, some medals... Several other pictures of him. More smiles, famous landmarks, concerts for tribute bands, family... He felt a terrible rage well up inside him, and before he could stop himself he's already driven his fist through the largest photo, the soft clink of jostled broken glass as he slowly withdrew his steel hand. "Hrm." He grunted. He had to leave. It was five minutes later that he'd teleported out of the home, naught but the damaged portrait, half a million dollars left on the dining room table, and the message 'I'M SORRY' scratched into the wood. Oh, and one missing record.

The Fortress of Doom, Location Unknown

January 8th, 2052 | 5:00pm | Empty Section


Things had gone back to normal on his latest return to the fortress. Nobody said anything about that business in Thailand, but that could be chalked up to people having new shit to talk about. Vortex himself had found himself occupied in the arena for the past couple days. After his... business concluded he was hungry for violence. He boxed, knocked a few teeth out, won some bouts, lost some, played some Mortal Kombat, had another boxing match, the guy brought up Thailand so he decided to practice Kano's fatality on him. Motherfucker had eight hearts so he'd live, though. He knew that, he was basically free to do whatever he wanted so long as he didn't do too much to piss off his superiors and, more importantly, obeyed rule number one: No killing Legionnaires, ever. An exception could be made for traitors, self defense and the like, but it was the one rule Vortex never broke. Hell, it was mostly self imposed. If he just killed his allies willy nilly what was to stop them doing the same to him? Maiming wasn't out of the question, though.

He wandered through the halls, nanites devouring the blood still on his arm as he looked through the various chambers for somewhere to just... relax, Record player under one arm and stolen record under the other. He could use his chambers, true enough, but he wanted to be somewhere he could just listen to the record uninterrupted. Really let the music seep in. Who knows what jackass would knock on his door howling about dismemberment this, overdue movies that. He froze when he heard sounds coming from an ostensibly empty room. Very subtle ones, but sounds nonetheless. There were life signs too, if his augments were right. Too big for rats. Intrigued, he decided to teleport in. He approached the door, dropping down so he could see under the door. He couldn't see... Well, anything of significance but it gave him the line of sight he needed to teleport.

There was a subtle thrum in the room Vera camped out in, and soon Vortex appeared, regarding the girl and her phone, as well as her pet. She'd likely be startled, but... he didn't really care. "What'chu doin' in here? Party's out there." He said casually, his tone one of curiosity more than interrogation. He took a seat at the wall across from her, setting his record player on the floor and popping it open, checking it over to make sure everything was in order. "Not sure I recognize ya. Beautiful lizard by the way, never seen one like it." He said, his enhanced eyes glowing eerily in the darkness. He didn't know her, but she probably knew him. He sounded sincere, and going by the news that was very odd for Vortex. He didn't wait for an answer as he looked over the record, clicking his tongue. "I ain't gonna bother ya or nuthin', just came in to listen to some tunes... Ever listen to Iron Maiden? Old band." He asked. He'd be unsurprised by a no, they were pretty much forgotten nowadays. He set the record on, and dragged the needle into place.
MAY

The Watchtower, Astropolis

January 8th, 2052 | 4:30pm | Medical Complex


"F-ffffffuck!" A deep shout rang out from the back corner of the ward, another patient groaning and turning over in their cot.

"Shhhh, it's alright. I told you there'd be a little jolt." The doctor said, attempting to soothe the patient. "S-sure, sorry Doc..." The patient replied, a burly peacekeeper, wounded during the mission a week ago. The mission had gone rather well, she thought. The site was destroyed, which was her primary objective independent of the League's, but now that she was, er, a member the facility's destruction was less than ideal, all sorts of secrets could have been revealed with a thorough investigation. That said, most of their people had survived, between Nova's hardlight barriers and the Green Lantern. Nova's shielding was... far from perfect however, and some of the peacekeepers had been winged by some altogether grisly weaponry.

Once she'd arrived on the watchtower, she had been subjected to a fair amount of interrogation, from the psionic to the mundane... Let it be said that Martian Manhunter is much, much more terrifying in person. And despite the suspicious coincidence of her arrival, they hadn't found her to be hiding anything. She hadn't honestly intended to join the League at first, she merely needed to make sure to destroy that facility. The League, however, made it clear that she wouldn't be slinking away until they were certain she was not a spy. Which was... fair, honestly. The first couple of days she felt like a prisoner, but now... She could get used to this. She had a greater opportunity to make up for her mistakes with the League than she ever had on her own.

And first? The Peacekeepers. Now, the League had access to incredible medical technology of course, the efficacy of which was unrivaled by pretty much anything short of a Lazarus pit, and the bonus was that League medical facilities didn't drive you completely insane. So, what was the problem? Well, the sad truth was that resources were limited, obviously. The raw Materials was one thing, but manpower is another. Even automated medical procedures generally require supervision. So, who gets healed? Well, in the event of large rescues Civilians are naturally treated first, and there tends to be a lot of them. Next is Leaguers, because obviously they needed to be in top shape to even do the rescuing in the first place. Then you have Auxillary forces, like peacekeepers. Anyone that isn't actually under the League proper's command, but is working with them. Now, the Justice League was not heartless, they wouldn't just not treat the peacekeepers. So again, what was the problem?

The League would generally treat any kind of pressing medical care, then send them home for their long-term treatment. This was usually sufficient, and for most of the peacekeepers, it was certainly fine. Terrestrial doctors could take care of bullet wounds and gashes. However, two or three of them had been more severely injured, and while they were stabilized in time, well... Amputation would be necessary. Which meant that when they got home they'd receive prosthetic replacements from the state. They certainly would be of decent quality, but for the most part cybernetic limbs available to people were obviously artificial and generally came with a host of problems. May didn't like that, not when a master of the field such as herself was not otherwise doing anything. She'd hand-craft replacement limbs that were just as good as the old ones, and aesthetically appealing to boot.

This particular Peacekeeper was her last patient, one she felt particularly guilty about as he lost his arm when a bullet ricocheted off one of her hardlight plates, shattering it at juuuust the right angle to tear his arm apart. It saved his life, but... "Just like I told you, it's just syncing up to your nerves. Try moving it?" She asked. The Peacekeeper nodded, looking down to his new arm and slowly, tentatively the fingers twitched, slowly closing into a fist. It was obviously synthetic, though it was very well made. It had a layer of synthetic flesh, in little 'plates' with subtle seams where they joined. There was no exposed metal of any kind, but the false skin was a sort of cream, off-white color, which clashed horribly with the Gentleman's darker pigmentation. Not that it would have matched much better if he was white. May smiled, noting the man's apprehension. "It doesn't look like much, but it's very good that you can move it so soon. Don't worry about the color, over a few days it'll change to match the rest of you." She said, checking one of the monitors.

"A-alright. So, am I good to go, now?" He asked, flexing his new fingers back and forth, the motions slowly becoming more fluid. "Very nearly. I believe I've already explained it, but the prosthetic gets its power from your body, and is also capable of repairing itself. So just be sure to eat healthy and it should stay in tip top shape. It'll try to match its muscle mass to the rest of your body, but exercises can help your body grow accustomed to it faster. After a little bit you'll hardly know the difference." She said, clicking the monitor off and standing, offering her hand. She helped him up, patting the taller man on the back and gesturing to the door. "Alright... thanks again, Doc. I really appreciate it." He said with a nod, though May stopped him. "Oh yes, I almost forgot... After the incident with Sgt. Anthony, I'm going to remind you that you may have trouble controlling grip strength for a few days. So use your other hand for 'alone time' if the inclination strikes you." She mentioned, the peacekeeper blushing and rubbing the back of his neck with a muttered 'O-okay.' before heading over to the Nurse to get checked out.

Her work done for the day, May smiled and stepped into the halls, intent to wander the Watchtower for a while, idly wondering if she'd bump into anyone else.
No, we ain't dead. Just waiting on a GM post.
N O V A

Chihuahuan Desert, Mexico


Nova just laughed quietly, panting lightly as she leaned against the crate. Her breathing was a simulation, a more 'natural' way to express how she was low on energy and over-worked. Without it, she'd just be sitting stock still like a toaster. "Heh, you know, if we wanted to get technical I don't even have breasts right now." She said, gently thumping her fist on her chest-plating. She waved Therma off when she leaped into action, flicking through AR displays on just what all was working. Power was slowly coming back on, and thankfully she could drain her weapon's batteries back into herself to kickstart the process. She used the small amount of energy to create a few more hardlight plates... Just in time to, as a bullet ricocheted off one right as it arrived at the peacekeeper, narrowly saving his life. She noticed a woman approach her, one of her new allies, ostensibly trying to help her. She clicked her tongue and adjusted herself to sit up straighter. "I'm gonna be fine, in about a minute my reactor will be back to normal." She winced as another explosion made the lab rumble a bit, hissing. "Just help all the civvies you can." Strange to think that she was a Civvie herself not too long ago.

She tried to take stock of the situation. There was death, explosions, general chaos. One of the armored goons went down like a sack of potatoes when the shoddy heel was hit, the leg spasming out of control and toppling him. No time for cheering though, as all the chaos was putting the civilians in extreme danger. She got a message that the full range of non-thruster mobility had returned to her, and she was in the process of jumping down to help when she received an order from Perseus. "But..." She started, looking nervously toward the group nervously, then to the lantern. Lanterns were strong, they were in good hands. "Alright." She said with a nod, watching him... take off. "H-hey, I'm still not done charging!... Shit." She sighed, throwing herself over the edge of the railing and stumbling a bit when she landed, without her thrusters she was a lot less graceful. The Mechs were... well, dumb. She didn't show up as a living thing on their sensors so they just let her run past. More advanced robotic soldiers would certainly not be so easily fooled but these were garbage, 'bottom of the barrel' sorts.

She sprinted after the man, following him into the tunnel. Blockbuster, huh? she thought, racking her brain for any kind of information on the man. Some kind of mutant from what she could gather, could get really big and mean. Yeah, that was it. She'd have to study harder if this superhero thing was going to be taking off like she hoped. With her enhanced cybernetic vision she could see clear as day in the tunnel, and up ahead she saw Perseus dueling with a much, much larger man. Must be the target, right? She heard a soft beep, informing her that her reactor had normalized and her thrusters were once again enabled. Perfect. She thought, sliding to a stop and tapping comms on. "Coming through!" was all she said on the line as she got a running start, her thrusters firing up. She did a little hop, the boosters firing to maximum speed as she came rocketing through the tunnel. It was quite the lightshow, hard to miss. Blockbuster might even think an actual missile was coming at him, had he any time to react. A wall of shimmering orange hex-plates formed in the air behind him as Nova slammed into his chest with a faster-than-sound flying kick, the impact great enough to launch the behemoth a great distance... or it would, if the wall wasn't there to catch him. It shattered of course, but it did ensure that he wasn't thrown out of the tunnel to freedom. She bounced off into a somersault, landing beside Perseus and helping him up as she drew her gun. "I got your back!"
V O R T E X

Bangkok, Thailand

January 2nd, 2052 | 12:07am | Streets


There was a sickening crunch as rebar met spine, Vortex's improvised weapon coupled with his mechanized strength snapping a poor fighter's spine and flooring him. He didn't pay it much thought as the body hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. This guy barely stood a chance, and he was hardly whimpering or anything, just gritting his teeth and gasping for breath. Vortex sighed, planting the rebar through the man's skull and into the concrete. The kill was already forgotten as he took a moment to look over the target. The building was rather well fortified, he could see gun emplacements, some metahuman troopers, an automated turret or two... It wouldn't be enough. Hell, it wouldn't be enough to stop him alone, to say nothing of the various other assholes they brought along, not to mention Little Luthor.

"Now... How are we gonna get in?" He asked himself. He had at least a hundred ways to get past such... pitfully mundane defenses. He could probably do it in his sleep, honestly. No, what would be the most fun way to kick down the door. The sight of a helicopter nearby gave him an idea, and he looked around the nest of goons he'd just taken down for any... toys. "Ooooh, what have we here..." He muttered to himself, tugging a corpse off of a munitions crate, bisected vertically... that one wasn't him, funny enough. They had a Meta with them, and she wasn't especially accurate with that energy blade thing she could do. He popped the crate open, and a wicked grin spread from ear to ear as he eyed the launcher in the case. He wasn't familiar with the exact model, but it looked awfully new. He tugged it out of the case along with a rocket, gingerly slotting it into the tube as he took aim at the chopper, a holographic display coming over his eyes. "Nighty night..." He muttered, squeezing the trigger as the rocket spiraled off towards its quarry.

He smirked as he dropped the weapon, clicking his tongue and following the rocket's trajectory with a talon... until he mimed a little explosion with his hand once it slammed into the hapless aircraft. "Boosh..." He muttered with a little chuckle, that soon became a full blown cackle as he watched the machine spin out and crash into one of the compound's walls, knocking it down. "Ooooh, fuck, that was amaz... Hang on." He suddenly quieted down, tapping his chin. "I... think that was one of our choppers, actually." He said to nobody in particular, musing over it for a fraction of a second before shrugging. "...Eh, occupational hazard. Their pay wouldn't be so high if we thought they'd live." He said with a sage little nod, stepping off the roof... And walking along thin air, his feet glowing with the Void Reactor's power with every step.

Now to get in. With his rifle he picked off goon after goon, a beam of searing purple cracking out from the weapon, turning whatever flesh and soft matter it touched to dust. It was quite a horrific sight, seeing half of your comrade's head dissolve into a sandy, ashy substance, along with the brain almost flopping free of the skull, but not quite. Vortex had learned a long time ago that it was funnier when you got your headshot a little off-center, too close to the middle and the whole head would be dust, but clip them by the ear and you only get half, makes them die a lot slower. Naturally by the sixth time they wised up, snipers trying to get a bead on the incredible hovering sociopath, only for him to disappear. By the time they found him standing off the side of a house he'd already partially domed a few more of them, but he would be gone again. This would repeat, and Vortex would be a little closer each time they found him, until whoever was in charge of the rooftop forces was all that was left. Well, he was probably in charge, he was yelling and he wore a beret, not that Craig could understand him.

The apparent commander (probably a lieutenant of some sort) lost track of him, and given that he was the only one left he naturally started to panic a little, hyperventilating, looking around this way and that, ducking behind cover so that the scary robot man couldn't tear away half of his head with that rifle of his... He actually began to cry a little, drawing his side arm and looking toward the ground while he muttered a prayer... And then he heard a dull thrum, and when he looked up... "Huh. I like your hat." Vortex mused, kneeling down and snatching the man's pistol from his hands. He began to babble and sob, and while Vortex couldn't tell what he was saying, it was pretty clear he was begging for his life. "Hrm, tell you what. You're screwed." He said, gently lifting the charcoal beret off of his head, and putting it on. "You ain't getting out of here alive. That's not really up to me." He said, gesturing out toward the city. Or, well. what was left of it. Even if he spared this guy some other legionnaire would probably paste him. "But this is a cool hat, soooo... I'm gonna kill ya quick." He said, actually keeping his word against all odds as he kills the man with a few mundane pistol shots to the head.

He chuckled to himself, tossing the little toy aside as he brought up a little holographic, mirror-like display, admiring his new trophy with a sly smile. He had to keep himself occupied while he recharged, after all. The theatrics had started to put a drain on him. More shouting could be heard as Vortex rolled his eyes, queuing up another song through his augments as he prepared to engage the reinforcements that were no doubt coming. "Guess I oughta give Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch their little distraction. Lovers of the dark, step into light..." He muttered the opening lyrics to the song once they kicked in, settling on humming along once the reinforcements arrived. Frankly, they bored him a little. He even made it a little easier for the goons that poured onto the roof from the stairs, only firing his autopistols in time to the music, directing them like some kind of demented conductor.

It didn't matter, body after partially disintegrated body fell before him as kicked off into the air, stepping onto a wall that wasn't there as he walked down the non-existent surface, looking up through a window and teleporting inside. The soldiers inside fared no better. It was his specialty, tearing through the unprepared like an acetylene torch through butter. What could you do against someone that could teleport and make physics his bitch when all you had was some kinda 5.56 plinker? Not a lot. He went in hard, and he went in loud, very loud. Even if the Junta were aware of other inflitrators, they could not afford to ignore Vortex's carnage. Bodies practically clogged the halls as he just kept killing and killing, smirking as he observed them. They were beginning to crack. They resorted to blind fire more and more, their formations were less disciplined, more desperate. Occasionally he saw one break into a run, and at least one hurled himself out of the fifth floor window just because he thought gravity would be a less sadistic executioner.

He... realized he might be having a bit too much fun when he remembered the objective. "Ahhhhh, fuck. Where's that Elevator." He muttered, his augments showing him a path as he sprinted on through the building, occasionally offing a straggler. He found the elevator, but by that point he saw the Little Luthor That Could board it without him, and some... blue guy. He didn't recognize him, he didn't care. "Step aside, smurf." He said, shoving past the speedster and using his gun to blow a small hole through the elevator doors, enough to let him see through so he could teleport inside. Which he did. He scowled as he watched the elevator descend, a bit too fast to give him enough time to cut through the roof and drop in with the rest of the gang, so he just ran down the wall...

And it was just when the battle broke out that Argonaut, Gunsmith, and Cheshire would here his voice. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be over comms. "Starting without me?!" He roared, coming up from behind Argonaut and teleporting to the center of the room. To their credit, these goons weren't like the other poorly-trained jack-offs outside, they had enough discipline to draw a bead on him almost as soon as he appeared, which only gave him enough time to fire a burst into one goon before he was gone, a storm of leaden death filling the air where he once stood. From the ceiling he smirked. He'd let the others do the head to head fighting, he had a bonus to claim. The others were... bound to the physical plane. They had to obey the constraints of... space and physical law. Vortex was not so... burdened as they. Were he not here, those Ninjas dragging the General to the back would be making the right call, but... he was. He could see into the General's room, so he could be there. And he was. Once he appeared, he leveled his weapons at the two guards and gave them each a full magazine. He didn't know how capable they were or how many of his void-powered blasts it would take, so he just let them have it. No quips, no shouting, no extra noise.
N O V A

Chihuahuan Desert, Mexico


Nova watched the rest of the team at work, mostly resting to let her capacitors recharge. She hadn't used enough of her systems to really start worrying yet, but it was best to stay topped off whenever possible. It was slow going as she had to keep the Peacekeepers shielded, but she could still end up with a net gain in energy at her current rate. She jumped a bit and nearly fired a shot as someone just... appeared in the middle of them, but she managed to hold her fire when the speedster arrived. She'd remember whatever Perseus said, and she'd get mighty pissy if they trusted her completely right off the bat!

Still, the troopers were a problem. They needed either strong electricity or extreme force to deal with them, and as it hadn't happened yet she assumed electricity wasn't in the cards. So, force then... The lantern probably could, but he'd probably be busy on the defense... It was at roughly this point when some knight-looking woman took cover beside her. She looked up, letting out a sigh of relief when she realized she wouldn't be punching her face in. "No problem... Heat, huh?" She asked, wracking her brain to see if she remembered any specific Leaguer with heat powers. She couldn't, but she could tell that the heat was being drained from the area immediately around her.

She gasped at the realization, knowing she could do something to help. Without thinking she roughly grabbed a hold of the woman's arm, holding it tight to her chest, the capacitor bank for her reactor core. "This is gonna hurt, take all you can!" She shouted, not specifying that the one this would hurt would be, well, Nova. There was a whirring as it started up, instruments beeping and little lights flashing red on her body as the core started to glow, slowly rising to the brink of meltdown as she kicked it into overdrive. She began to let out an ear-piercing scream, the voice slightly distorted as her electronics began to fail. Her chest plating began to glow, and it was likely that if Therma wasn't here she'd melt through the walkway... And then, it stopped, Nova collapsed back onto the boxes right before her Fusion Engine went critical, Self-repair Nanite ooze pouring from some of the cracks in her armor almost like blood as the warning beeps continued, the reactor dim for a few moments before flickering back to life, low-power warning lights beeping away. She would be fine, just exhausted and out of power. She panted, not necessarily out of breath so much as an in-built psychological reaction. "Go fucking nuts, don't let me do that again..."
N O V A

Chihuahuan Desert, Mexico

January 1st, 2052 | 5:35pm | Legion Lab


May nodded sullenly. She supposed it made sense, after all. Just trusting her out of nowhere would be dumb as hell, even though she was sincere."Well, I'll just have to prove myself, then." She said, smiling to the Lantern. An... Ungaran, was it? Yes, that was the one. Her gaze drifted over the ring, chuckling softly. "I've always wanted to see one of those up close. I never quite expected to find one pointed at me." She heard Perseus chip in, prompting her to clasp her hands cheerfully. "Yes sir! You won't be disappointed!" she said, even going so far as to do a little curtsy.

She followed along with the rest of the group, idly looking over a disarmed landmine that had been dug up. Oooh, she remembered those. Nasty little pieces of work, though in fairness she'd had a very bad day when she submitted that design. It was interesting how often she'd been on the business end of weapons she'd designed, lately. Really put things in perspective. She eyed Bloodsport. She wasn't sure why they needed to drag him in, probably to enter all quiet and such. They had to have some kind of scanner or the like. She took stock of the rest of the team. Green Arrow and Perseus were the only ones of the lot she really recognized. Well, one was a Green Lantern and all, but not the Green Lantern.

She listened intently to Perseus' instructions... She was never quite sure why they'd even bother with non-lethal force in a situation like this. She was no killer of course, but there's a time and a place for lethal force and this seemed like one of those times. Still, she would follow his orders. Didn't want to risk pissing him off more than she already had."I don't got a lot of quiet stuff but I hear ya." She said with a small thumbs-up as she sauntered onto the elevator platform. she placed a device of some kind to her chin, the machinery expanding into a mask that covered her lower face. It served to protect her mouth from superficial damage as well as an amplifier for her voice should she need it.

On the way down she drew her Lance, carefully slotting a battery in as she inspected the firearm. Everything was in order, a quick cycling of machinery in her leg told her that her speed-loader was operational too. Her hard-light generator was in order, her Fusion Engine was functioning. Her Vertigo thrusters brightened a bit one at a time as they made a quiet whine before dimming at once, calibration slowly coming to an end. She tried to strike up short conversations, but nobody was having it. She'd even asked for access to their comm channel, but there was a no on that front as well. She sighed softly, tensing as they reached the bottom.

She expected chaos, but was greeted by surgical precision as Arrow and Perseus took the guards out one after the other, dropping them like dominoes before the alarm could be sounded. She followed, occasionally assisting with the disabling of sensors and cameras with her Lance's shock setting, one time even knocking out a guard with a brick of hard light. Overall though, she was careful to stay out of her new allies' way. Any amusing muck-ups would be a great deal less amusing down here. After a fair amount of prowling through the dark corridors they came into the labs... And it was a nasty sight.

Nova only let out a very light gasp as she saw what awaited them. She'd... seen her fair share of horrors in the realm of human testing, but that was always on, well, people that deserved it. Murderers and convicts. At least, that's what metaphorically helped her sleep at night, not that she slept anymore. These? Civilians, and not a one was even anesthetized. She grit her teeth, tightening her grip on the walkway's rails. Was... was this sort of thing happening at her labs, now? She very nearly flung herself over the rails to start punching the shit out of the scum right then and there. But, well, as it turned out Bloodsport was dead set on blowing their cover first.

"I got the right side!" Nova cried out as she waved her left arm, a field of hexagonal hardlight plates forming mobile cover for each of the rightmost Peacekeepers, intelligently arranging themselves for maximum protection without obscuring their own weapons fire overmuch. That said she didn't have enough for everyone. Occasionally, a plate wouldn't be able to take anymore punishment and would shatter, the shield shrinking overall. She turned to see the venom-enhanced goons rushing their positions, and despite the immense power of her weapon that didn't matter much if they didn't really care about getting shot. A few burning holes in the mutant's gut wasn't enough to save one peacekeeper, and she didn't take that well. "No!" She reached out, intending to at least finish him off, but Perseus saw to that. She eyed another try to jump up towards her group, and she clenched her fist. "No you don't!" In the blink of an eye her thrusters flared and she delivered a solid kick to the mutant's chest, the sheer velocity of the blow launching the brute across the lab and cracking his head on the opposite wall. She wasn't sure if he was dead, So she very quickly fired a beam right through his head before he had a chance to get up, her boosters propelling her to the ground behind some crates.

She threw up another hardlight panel above her, using it as a mirror to survey the battle. She saw the heavily armored goons march in, and she gasped. Another one of her designs... Well, mostly. It was a suit of armor designed to interface with the Mk. IV augmentation system, It wasn't finished before she escaped, but they must have touched up the design enough to produce it themselves. "Can I have those comms now?! She shouted at Perseus, creating more panels to replenish the barriers for the Peacekeepers.

---

Perseus grit his teeth as a barrage of minigun fire deflected off of his shield, he ducked behind a crate, collapsing the shield and letting it repair itself as he sighed and said, "Squad-wide channel only. Don't make me regret this." He quickly tapped his forearm computer and detected Nova's communication device, linking her in to the squad's net. He was fairly sure she was not a Legion spy, since she assisted the team with her shields. But he couldn't be completely sure. He hoped he hadn't made a huge mistake, a feeling he was very much unused to.

---

Nova nodded, a little beep informing her that she had access. "This is Nova, the big armored guys are wearing LSS Mk. IV powered armor. They are extremely well armored but I never finished the design, the plating along the back of the heel is thin and there's faulty wiring. One solid hit or a powerful electric shock to around the heel should make them crumple! Peacekeepers shouldn't bother shooting them, the armor's thinner there but small arms still won't make a dent, leave it to us." She called out across comms, using her hardlight panels to reflect her energy beams around cover and nail a few of the legion grunts, as well as aiming a few beams at Bloodsport.
N O V A

Chihuahuan Desert, Mexico

January 1st, 2052 | 5:31pm | May's Van




Inhale. Click, whirr. Exhale. Clang, clatter. Breathe in, take in the air. Breathe out, let it go. It was meaningless. But it helped. Maybelline Anne Albrecht, just 'May' to most continued her little exercise as the other arm was extracted, clattering to the floor with its twin. Breathe in, breathe out. Though her body no longer needed oxygen, the motions were still... calming. She was a rational person, she knew this process didn't harm her. But some frustratingly primal part of her still didn't take kindly to her limbs getting tugged off. The arms that she'd installed in her customized, ramshackle mobile lab worked as carefully as they could to remove her legs next, which was to say... not very. She grit her teeth, breaths becoming rapid and shallow as one leg was pulled away after the other, each with a small grunt. It wasn't so bad. She screamed the first time.

She relaxed a bit on the stolen stretcher that made for a makeshift operating table, just a torso and a head. "Guess I should be glad nobody can see me." she said to herself. She supposed she must look a little silly. Reminded her a bit of this kid in her class in elementary school that liked to dismember the Barbie dolls. She sighed, wishing she had fingers to drum as the machine got caught on her underwear, wiggling her leg stumps to help it along. Fully disrobed, the more... cosmetic synth-flesh plates on her body were removed, leaving the internals of her chest completely exposed. She looked up at the mirror in the roof, smirking some. Most might be... put off by seeing their insides at work, but to May it was the surest proof she wasn't dead yet... Not that she was sure there was an afterlife for her. Did cyborgs have souls? Questions for later.

As the ballistic-fiber covering was applied to what little flesh remained and her armored torso-plate was put in place, she heard a toaster oven-like 'Ding!' as her systems notified her that its task was complete. "Ooooh, yes, awesome. Give me the signal!" She said, a little bit giddy. When you spent as much time as she did limbless, voice-activated systems were a good investment. She'd been casing the area for several days now, and she'd witnessed something... interesting a few hours ago. And when she noticed a damn Javelin (If only barely) she knew that something was definitely about to go down. Imagine her excitement when she noticed that somebody among them was carrying vulnerable communications hardware? She heard a crackle as the device she'd remotely hijacked began transmitting audio, her Van's VI transcribing the admittedly patchy signal as best as it could on the monitor before her.

"-ity footage on a loop and disable the sensors. Then our marks- can take out the guards and we c- move in. We'll take the el... down... lab and sweep the facility. Bl-sport will give us directions. Check your fire for... noncombatants and preserve the s- as much as -sible. Capt- the local Legion- if possible. Understood?"


"So it was the League that nabbed Bloodsport earlier! Gah. and they're gonna start without me! Computer, patch me through." She demanded, her integrated lenses darkening to hide her eyes. Elsewhere, one of the Peacekeeper's phones would begin to ring, prompting said man to almost jump a little in shock. "Hey, Hey, Hey! Wait one second!" May's voice came through the device, crackling slightly as the Peacekeeper fumbled for the device. "Show me to whoever's in charge or I blow this thing up!" May said with a bit of an exaggerated cackle. The Peacekeeper, green as they come, obliged and showed the phone to Perseus shaking a bit. The screen flickered a bit, before he was greeted by the sight of what appeared to be... A one armed-partially armored woman. "Pfffft, Hahaha... I was kidding about the exploding thing." She said cheerfully, the Peacekeeper visibly relaxing a bit.

"Soooo, anyway, I'll get to the point before you get to angry about me 'hijackin' yer secure channels'" She said with a bit of a mock pout, chewing her lower lip as the machine slotted one of her legs into place. "You can call me... Nova, and we both wanna deal with whatever's going on in that shack. You guys just, well... this is kind of embarrassing, but those cowboy lookin' dudes nabbed Bloodsport ten minutes before I was gonna do it... It was really cool though, I liked the porkchop line. -Anyway!" She muttered something, realizing that she was probably not explaining herself well. "I wanna help, and your plan sounds much better than 'Fly in and punch everyone with robot fists' like I was gonna do... J-just gotta finish putting my arms on." She said nervously, rubbing the back of her head. "Uuuuh, anyway, as a gesture of good faith I'm in the rickety-looking van about 200 meters south-south-west of where my instruments are telling me you're currently camped out, right by the road... This, uh... This 'hack your phone to contact you' thing sounded waaaay less incriminating ten minutes ago. Also tell Whoever's holding this thing that they shouldn't bring their personal phones with them on black ops."

She sighed as her last limb was slotted into place, covering her face. "Look, I promised some locals I'd take these guys out a couple weeks ago, and I feel like it doesn't make me look good if they see that some other group of dudes swooped in and did the job without me at least... helping, so if you need punching or electronic warfare I'm happy to do whatever you tell me. Maybe, just maybe, this would be the start of a beautiful partnership instead of a cybercrime conviction.
JLU


Legion of Doom

V O R T E X

BANGKOK, THAILAND

January 1st, 2052 | 11:57 | Rooftop


Chaos. Fire, smoke, echoing gunfire and screams. In a few words, Hell on Earth. To others, it was... well, it was still hell. But hell was a fucking blast. At least, that's how the psychopath-of-the-day felt. Craig Winters let out a low whistle as he watched what he assumed was once a tank fly off from the ground and tumble off to god knows where... What was that, he thought. Meta? Or just good old-fashioned ordnance? What was the difference, really? He laughed darkly, at that moment pulping the Junta fighter's head he'd had his iron foot to. If this was hell, he wondered what was so great about heaven anyway? There was a crackling in his ear, and Argonaut's voice came in on comms.

Vortex grimaced, rolling his eyes as he tapped to his ear, opening comms on his end. "The city is ours." He said in a mocking monotone, casually finishing off a civilian lying on the street with a burst from his pistol. "No shit, Goldilocks. Maybe put a little... Iunno, emotion into it? Or did daddy forget to buy you some of those?" the jab was followed by a deep laugh, and the sound of his weapons. "So, is it gonna be open or closed casket today?" He asked a moment later. Vortex was abrasive, and frankly insubordinate. But he always, always did the job. Better yet, to him the job was the pay. "Oh, you know what? I'm feelin' generous, I'll have that fucker hogtied at your feet before it's time for porridge." He said, switching off comms.

He stepped over to the edge of the rooftop, idly scraping 'Craig was here' into the brickwork with a clawed finger as he looked off toward the safe-house, his HUD updating with all sorts of fancy-pants readouts and information. He smirked as all kinds of caution lights began to light up around various defenses. "Oh, looks like I found the fun." He said, idly tapping his fingers together, controlling something. "Music, music... Something... classical." He said, bobbing his head to a tune his augments played directly into his inner ear. He disappeared, a thrum sounding out in the middle of the chaos below as Vortex reappeared.

"The sound of gunfire, comes through the night!" Two long bursts ring out from his pistols, crystalline darts
"Killing and Hatred, is a terrible sight!" seeking out and killing mercenary and Junta alike.
"Reports come in, of the heavy attack!" Junta forces turn their guns and rockets on him.
"Message is seen, we are moving back!" Gone, the gunfire and rockets obliterate another home.

"Preparations are made, for the journey back!" Back, a barrel jammed against a neck, a head turned to dust.
"It is a survival, supplies are packed!" A scream from nearby, pins pulled from a vest of grenades.
"No more nights, in this eternal hell!" A body kicked to a crate of rockets, guns are drawn.
"Destination is simple, we move out." The ghost is gone, screams drowned in flame.

"Killing time! You left from the line!" Reappear in streets below, a civilian gunned down.
"Killing time! Your turn to kill!" A meta raises his fist, clad in flame.
"Killing time! What do you say?" Arms held out in challenge, and gone.

"Killing time." Vortex said coldly as he reappeared, iron hands wrapping tightly around the poorly trained Meta's throat. The flames dissipated as he clutched at the cold vice, strangled gasps barely sounding out. "Tell you what... You kill that guy." He said, nodding toward a wounded man on the ground, crying out for... well, it was hard to tell. "And I let you go. Good deal?" He said, relaxing his grip just a tiny bit. The Meta wasted no time, the man screaming and flailing as he burned, Vortex clicked his tongue. "Beautiful. Just the right pitch." He said with a dreamy sigh, snapping the Meta's neck with a swift twist. "Happy fuckin' new year." He said as he combined his guns into the long-rifle mode, slinging it over his shoulder and marching toward the safe house, humming the tune to his song along the way. Hell wasn't so bad.

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