Mouth of the Underworld

October 26, 2016:

Lunair and Rose rescue Nate from the Clan Akkaba. (emits by Gambit)



NPCs: Clan Akkaba

Mentions: Apocalypse

Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Somewhere in Mexico…

Whatever Agent Lewis had discovered in the Temple Mayor ruins of Mexico City remains unclear. Her tail, the platinum haired huntress known as the Ravager isn't here because of leads or decyphered information, no, she is following something more primal, a psychic connection, a frequency wavelength on a realm bound beyond understanding shared with another like-minded individual, someone so close they are like family. Whatever the case it boils down to a hunt. This is something the daughter of the Terminator was born for.

The direction she is headed? A past a small village by way of dirt roads along a path the locals call the tongue of Chapultepec.

Elswhere, the inner caverns of 'The Underworld' where a long ago temple of Huitzilopocthli was razed to the ground, crumpled and fused to become one with the Earth, stories say it was destroyed during a drought followed by a great comet long ago.

Nate Grey lies within, in the center of a circular chamber, a black obelisk rises behind him out of stones covered in Aztec and foreign scrawlings, power courses through the ancient temple, the glowing energy lines are visible through breaks in the floor that all form in a spiderwebs design out of that dark spire.

For our father, who is all.
Our father, who is all and the end.
The great one who will usher in the new era.
For our father, in fire and blood. He who is all, he who will make the world strong again.

The chanting continues, it is all around Nate, men and women surround him in robes, cloaked and hooded none of their features are visible. X-Man will realize he is stripped bare, wearing only a loin clothe and covered in paitning that marks over the receding technovirus, yes, it is subsiding, whatever Apocalyps had done to it before is wearing off. His flesh is becoming his again as are his powers yet he is still weakened from a low amount of food, sleep and water. Near starvation levels.
None of these cultists seem afraid of the mutant and all of them clutch ceremonial athames. The metal and style of the daggers alien in origin, each blade black like that obelisk that stands center and behind the world hopping psionist.

Nate has been most often semi-unconscious than not the last few days. Keeping him starved and unable to rest has done little to restore his powers after the technovirus attack shut them down. He is pretty sure he managed to contact Rogue a couple times, and Rose? Maybe in his brief moments of dreams.

But now the power is returning. Do they realize how little he sleeps when he is powered-up? In truth Nate has been binding his time, waiting for an opening. Not easy for an impatient man like he is.

And Lunair is going to be following Rose. Nate's a good friend, after all. Even if she doesn't always quite understand the man. But people are confusing in general to Lunair, so that's hardly a new one. She'll be armored up, a backpack with her lucky candy bars and such sealed under her power armor. Seems she steals a lot of ideas from video games and TV. Goofball. And Lunair will be following, like the world's deadliest puppy.

Ravager is following something more primal then even the cultists cling to. An ability engrained deep within genes she was not supposed to have. Not when in CADMUS, or even now. Ignored for so long, sometimes a stubborn girl needs to listen, even when told not to by dreams, or waking-dreams. She's never listened too well.

We're killing strangers…

The Tomahawk roars along the dust laden road, rising clouds around the high-speed figure that is a black and silver blur of chrome and polished leather lain across the motorcycle. But as she exited the city the coat she had worn to cover her flapped behind and then is released with a shrug to fly away behind her, revealing the scale aille body suit outlined in tiny red stripes. One hand releases the throttle and a mask is slipped over half of her face, the white eye casting a glow that sends a relay to those connected through Chip to Lunair and anyone else.

…Yep doing stupid shit. Again. But it can all be seen, all be traced… This time.

But clasped along the pipeladen chassis a large chiappa is withdrawn, braced along the handle bars between grip, the rig revealed with the parting of the coat bearing the line of swords behind both arms and the pistols on wrist pivots.

Let's not even begin on what the heavy leather tac belt bears hidden within pockets.

Apocalypse Now.

Blow us a kiss and we'll blow you to pieces.

"All for you, our father."

"All for you, our father."

"For you, I give all."
The chant repeated and then a beautiful tan skinned-dark haired woman in an odd mixture of Egyptian and Mesoamerican garments steps forward, arms outstretched to Nate Grey as if she is about to embrace him then blood gushes over his body, sprayed forth from the young female as other robed men and women around her hack in to her with those obsidian-black daggers.

"The sacrifice is made." A man cheers, hands rising above his head as the gorey scene unfolds, dark red fluids pooling around the X-Man's feet to be drawn in to the obelisk. He appears different than the others, wearing feathers around his hood, his skin is pale-grey like En Sabah Nur and he is bald, his lips are even lined in blue but it is not the Forever Walker. It is his High Speaker of the Clan Akkaba here.

"The vessel is bathed in the blood of Apocalypse. He is prepared."

"For the father."

"For our father, the God of Sun and Blood."

"For our father, Huitzilopochtli."


Beyond the inner chamber there are men walking, armed with high powered assault rifles and machetes. Rose and Lunair see them. Two groups of three, they don't appear to be particularly attentive at best they are rather leisure. Who would dare attack this place knowing it is sacred ground of Huitzilopochtli? No locals, no one superstitious enough, especially on the night of the cleansing and preparation of their master's holy vessel.

Is that the blood of Apocalypse for real and not in a dumb metaphoric way? Nate has long wanted to see the ancient tyrant bleed. Now, not exactly like this. Oh well.

Blood is blood, and he has been enough not to be squeamish about it. He watches with narrowed eyes at the 'priest', whose aspect is interesting to say the least. He feels strong enough to do something now, and mind-scanning the bald guy seems like a good start. But when he reaches out, he feels a pair of familiar minds nearby and tenses, then looking around carefully. There are guards here and there… and of course nutcases with knives. Somewhere nearby there might be Dark Riders too, he better save his power for the right moment.

Just a small distance out, The Ravager slides her bike beneath bramble and moves forward. Aside from some desert brush and stone, cover is hard to find. So instead of a coat, a cloak is slung over her form as she enters almost normally…

In their faces.

A hood casts shadow over her facade, the cloak rests with ease over the fitted weaponry and attire. "You have the coordinates? About to go in." A few words to Lunair as Ravager steps to the entry of the 'temple', the chants a haunting echo in the backdrop, but it lets her know all the other sleepless nights were not in vain, her reasearch correct.

But as she passes the first group of leisure guards the cloak shifts and opens with a glean of Cherubim honed blades upon a pivotal axis of harness, even the robe sleeves shred along threads where they come to reveal and the woman does not hesitate to move like a spinning disposal in their dispatch.

"Now!" Or whenever! Either way, Ravager ran out of patience and blood of the others is free-flowing.

Lunair lands a ways behind Ravager. She is trying to land somewhere she won't tip everyone off. And she totally creates a cloak over it. Nothing weird about a FLYING NUN right? Right.

On a more serious note, she uses a plasma based weapon, to aovid the noise of bullets despite how satisfying swiss-cheesing a foe is.

Now, it is time to be quietly serious, a primal reversion to her earlier life. Simply a weapon to follow the other and let the steps run red with cultist lifeblood. Nate is waiting for them, hopefully. And not just random weirdos.
If anything the members of X-Force are experienced by now, whether it's Corporate Assassins, Purifiers, SHOC troopers or strange bloody Cultists in Mexico they know how to get the drop on someone or 'somethings'.

The trio of armed men at front are taken down rather quickly, Rose deals with two and while shes side-stepping the third is bolted through by a plasma shot fired from Armory. These are not your expected X-Men, no, X-Force previously X-Black and Cyberforce are something entirely different. Killing precision right there.

"He awakens, great speaker." A woman hisses, her voice almost serpentine as she speaks from behind the man.
"I see this. He is weak right now, no match for the Children of Apocalypse. Are you, Nate Grey?" The robed tall man who looks very much like a skinny smaller Apocalypse says down towards the mutant, "A feeble, weakened pathetic thing right now."
"Not at all strong." A rounded man says, a tattoo on his face, large, spread across it, gleaming red eyes. "Why him? He is so ugly and small. I could grind him.''
"Do not question our fathers wishes." The female hisses, leaning over Nate her body twists, stretching out and she looks very serpentlike. One of the Clan Akkaba who inherited En Sabah Nurs powers, she can apparently body morph.

«Rose. Three more guards, twenty feet ahead six up, about 40 degrees your right» whispers Nate into the white haired girl's mind. «Sixteen cultists with blades. Ah… maybe a couple mutants»

Then he grins to the snake-woman. "I'm feeling peachy," he manages to growl, "come a little close and I will show you." They have tied him up to the obelisk, but with just rope, not chains. That was dumb on them. His left eye pulses with light for the first time in weeks, and his telepathy touches everyone in the chamber. They did not see or hear the three first guards dying. If they did, they -will- forget.

Ravager is being reckless, carefree in er own slaughter, and once those blades come through (no matter) their body her goal is the opening of the monolithic undergound structure made to Apocolypse.

A spatter resides along ple skin, staining pale hair pink as she enters the fold with the blades exposes behind hands. Plasma blasts from Lunair cast a-glow in their wake and despite the words spoken o her mind from Nate she stands there and the Triple Threat Chiappa is risen towards the body-morphing bitch over him.

"I give you to the count of…" The blast ricochets and echoes along the cavern and the chants as Ravager fires upon them, even when empty those heavy laden boots keep walking deeper, the chamber snapped open, reloaded in thrice and fired once again.


But with every step those blades burrow beside feet, only ceasing with the rise of hands to fire and return, burning ethes of damage into their floor.

"Grind -this-!". Cock, chamber, reload. "Bitch."

Through the feed of the single bionic eye, Lunair is not left behind or in the dark, she can see and hear the coordinated fed from Nate and from personal visual.

Lunair's a former child soldier, growing up in a land of PMCs and genocide. It's not new to her to follow a combatant intent. "Ew, grinding. What a pervo." Energy weapons are at the out, a long, slender plasma rifle.

She is aiming at any snake ladies, because she once got drop kicked out of an office window by a snake lady. How the fuck does a snake drop kick you? No matter.

They are no longer quiet, and it is time for loud. Any runners will be swiftly picked off. If she can. Though, weirdly, she is going to toss a dance grenade because hey, funny or not, crowd control is crowd control, okay?

The Chief Speaker lets out a yell, a yell that is heard both on the psychic and material levels, "He is in your heads! Believe nothing!"
The snake woman is not so fortunate, confusion settles in for her and the others. Rose and Lunair have made an appearance in much noise, strife and colorful energy shots.

The rounded man who spoke of 'grinding' smiles wide and begins to grow, his size increasing until he is touching the ceiling standing about a dozen feet tall and almost as wide. "Time to grind!" He bellows.
The rest of the cultists are scrambling for targets.
The Speaker is commanding again, both physical sound and mental, "Lay down your weapons and cease this, you dare attack the Clan? Attempt to steal his property? I demand you stand down! KNEEL" It is very much a forceful and dominating command. One aimed at their very psyches.

Well, Nate tried. But Rose and Luna are just too fond of guns and explosions. Gotta love those girls. "Yeah, don't believe in anything," he wheezes, leaning forward. Rope shears and snaps at the telekinetic pressure, and the blood-stained young man stumbles forward, grabbing the 'speaker' by the neck. "Shut up," he commands, putting all his telepathy in the command. "And go to hell," he adds, pulling his neck back with every intention to break it.

Bitches love fireworks?

This world doesn't need no operta, they're here for the //operation…///

The scramble of followers, leaders, and cultists has that mismatched gaze flickering, up until Lunair sets in and begis her own attack, one followed up by the forceful spring of Ravager into the fray with the blades flicking outwards and a sweeping arch of pistols bullets…. Her mind is set, so set -

The psyching call and demand reaching outward has Ravager falling from a leap mid flight to fall upon knees in her landing, body slumped while spine presses against the suit in her bowing kneel of demanded supplication. One that bings sweat to bead upon forehead in restraint.

Eyes close, teetn grind, and fingertips slide along abdomen to dip within a pouch of tac belt to retrieve something that suddenly begins to blink. A tear of teeth along release, teeth clenching a pin and a timer starts. That hand rises up while she slowly shuddrs and begins to rise from forced kneel to offer Lunair the bomb.

Yeah, kill the dancers, drop it right into the midst of their 'floor'. Us or them.

"Forcing your religion on people is NOT OKAY." The bomb is going to be chucked in amidst the dancers. She starts to kneel, and winces. Lunair does not like this. Kneeeeeling. "This. Is. NOT OKAY." It so isn't. Lunair seems to have a special aversion to coercion, it reminds her too much as before.

But you can still move your arms when kneeling, right? Cultists LOVE gesticulating. Or something.

Nevertheless, Lunair struggles for a moment, hoping her armor holds up against the assault that comes in. Dancer, fighter, anyone not a friendly is definitely getting a healthy dose of plasma even as a bit of something or other donks off her armor.
The House of the Underworld is a sacred ground in these people's mind, the Clan Akkaba has made sure to keep this temple steeped in superstition the very mention of it is meant to create a sort of barricade from intruders. Apocalypse in his hubris has decidedly opened up a weakness in his armor, hard to tell when such things are intentional or not but perhaps this was a test not only for Nate and his X-Force but perhaps also Apocalypse' kin, his remnants and worshipers. Who can say. What is transpiring now though is one sided, the meta-strike force is cohesive, fast and terrifying, with a KRAK of a man's neck in an enraged fist the battle is lost. The Chief Speaker topples.
The elastic bodied female is weaving her way out of the fighting in to retreat and the grinder, that heavy set little now giant man is growing again, eyes bulging as he pushes against the ceilings causing the very earth and walls around them to tremble, it does not look like he will stop in his reach for the heavens, he intends to bring the caverns and the temple remains down upon all of them.

Nate grins ferally seeing the cultists shot, fried or just blown up to pieces. The survivors seem only to want escape. Er… except for the giant guy that has gone crazy. Nate float-jumps out of the way, joining Ravager and Armory. "Either kill him… or lets get out of here, ladies," he points out, his voice hoarse and almost inaudible over the gunshots, but he also uses telepathy to make sure they hear him. "Apocalypse is not here right now, so our work is done."

Wear my smile on my face but there's a demon inside…

Ravager trembles, her whole form shudders to remove the demand to -kneel-.

Is there a method to your madness or is it all about Pride?!!

"Leave…" A murmur to Lun and Nate as she seems to fight from her knees to come to a stand nd use the swords to do so as if crippled by the mental blow even a small stream of blood coming from a nostril, sniffed back with a deep inahale.

"He may not be, but they need ended." And with a sudden burst forward the reality around them blurs, the vision scrabled by bloodshot iris' of duality, if Rvager cried it'd be in red right now.

The Grinding and Bulging Eye'd man is assaulted, from throat to solar-plexus with the plant of swords and the altering of weight to open him wide, all the while fingers on the trigger do not stop until chambers are emptied.

As for the serpentine woman, a sticky grenade is tossed her way, adhering to whatever it lands upon.

…There's a demon inside!

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