Suicide in the Land Down Under

March 30, 2017:

Lady Mastermind and Ravager are sent on a mission to get plans from an unauthorized base in Australia. (Emits by Bane)

Somewhere in the Outback



NPCs: Lots - Most are dead



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Paresec Limited is located in the western half of Australia, in the deep outback badlands. On the surface, the corporate consortium-held facility is an industrial park isolated from the world, with a small corporate village nearby housing employees. All the official data indicates it to be a pharmaceuticals company with investors from the holding company, Global Industrial Solutions, a multinational run out of the seven island city of Mumbai. But, unbeknownst to all but insiders, it is owned by the People's Republic of China, producing military artificial intelligence, and robotic mounting for these units to be deployed in various operations by the Red Chinese government.
It was a secret, at least, until four nights ago, when an British undercover intelligence spy made it out of the Hong Kong office with a datachip of the facility's location and the company's true purpose. The British escaped at the cost of his life, later expiring from a painful spiked cup of coffee at the meet, but the embassy attache recovered the chip and made it back to the British embassy. A night later, a list of operatives were accessed by the NATO powers, and the Australian facility was selected for breach. That's how Amanda Waller was informed, and volunteered a pair of Suicide Squad agents for the mission.
The Tube flies over the Australia badlands, a red sun setting in the distance over the shimmering Pacific. The large plane has an all-terrain Jeep rigged to the back, ready to deploy for combat operations. As the plane approaches the landing strip in the distant desert, landing lights in the dimming dusk guiding the Tube down with a heavy landing into the Australian desert, the jeep rocks along with the clamps that secure it.

"Alright, ladies," a man with an Australian accent and a Special Air Services uniform, sans rank, begins, as he comes out of the pilot's cockpit and into the mammoth back of the plane, in view of the Jeep in the back. "I'm your briefing officer. You ladies ever grabbed a funnel spider?"


Regan Wyngarde, known in her Interpol jacket under the alias 'Lady Mastermind', has been loving her return to freedom. Set semi-free and living now under an assumed identity, she's now got a full file of magazines and movies on data to get caught up on, and has spent much of the flight reclined with earbuds in her ears. She sits, legs crossed, in her black leathers and holstered weaponry, like a monarch with few cares in the world, and even less worry about her upcoming assignment.

"A what?" Regan tugs the earbuds from her ears just in time to hear the most Bushwacky, Crocodile Dundee type question she's heard. Ever. She wraps up the earbuds and sets her in-flight entertainment aside to focus a tight brow on the Australian SAS on-lend. "Do you mean, like, an actual spider of some kind or are you creeping on me right now?"

As the man approaches them and starts to give them the typical militaristic briefing full of threats and demeaning - Deathstroke is her father, this ain't shit.

The rig that she wears to put swords and Chiappa's on a pivotal system is being honed, oiled, checked. She's been busy lately, and the bounce of the plane causes her single pale eye to narrow, while beneath the patch… There's a light glow.

"I leave nature to take its course unless you give me a better reason to fuck with it." One lady has class, the other? Sass. But the Kherubim honed swords at her feet, centered by the cross of Rhinos between booted feet, say which is which.

As the plane slowly gears down on the runway, slowing, the SAS liaison braces himself on the rigging of the plane. "The funnelweb is the most deadly spider in Australia. It's evolved to run up a simian's arm if you try to grab it, and bite on the neck. Most lethal thing on eight legs. Try to keep it in mind for this mission."
The Tube rumbles to a halt, the Aussie jerking, as there are distant, muffled voices. The back of the plane opens, and a ground crew enters the plane, distant lights flickering on the small airbase as the combat Jeep is disembarked, several soldiers guiding it out of the plane's belly.

"The target is a robotics facility in the outback. You'll be provided a Jeep, your standard requested munitions, and a GPS system to locate the facility. The facility is owned by the Chinese government, that's the mainland, and it produces military automatons. We don't know what's in there, ladies, but destruction of the facility isn't important. What we want is in the mainframe. We want the location of their other research, development, and production facilities." He turns about and pulls a slim silver-chrome briefcase out of a cubby where it's been rigged, sliding it into position beside the pair. "Inside is a standard hacking unit that the United States military uses, it's a laptop with a cable and an automated hacking system. Just open 'er up, plug 'er in, then wait until the screen flashes green, before you get out with the data."

The Aussie turns about and begins walking towards the back of the plane, looking over his shoulder. "Beyond that, it's all up to you. Once you finish your job, there's an IR beacon in the Jeep to call in the extraction chopper."

Something in Lady Mastermind's pale, blue eyes falls out of focus during the impromptu entomology lesson. Listening? Sure, but she see-saws her head and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and lifts one of her bared shoulders in a shrug. "You and I have different definitions as to what lethal is. That's why we're doing the job and you're not, but thank you. I'll be careful, sweets."
Regan unclips her belt and rises from her seat, brushing her gloved fingertips over the hacking unit and giving Ravager an expectant look. Her fingers mock-grab the case before she decides to take it. Ravager's better with both hands free, anyway.
"Get inside, find the mainframe, hack it, no one cares about whether or not the Chinese are working down under tomorrow, check. Oh, hey-" Regan jingles her fingers, as if looking for car keys. "-Mister military guy? If you had a choice, would you kill all of these Chinese working on weapons of war in your country? Just curious."

Oh! He's not coming! Go figure. Ravager stares at the militant as everything is strapped on, adjusted to her arms in a sleek fit of a moldable metal to contour motions and her physique along arms nd down her back for the holster. Hands lower to her weapons and the large pistols go first, snatched and then slung along the mechanism.

"Ah so no men. Even better. Bitches get things done." Next the swords and they pivot in a sweep and arch to lay down along either side of her spine, spiring tips just over another holster at the small of her back.

"I know what I am doing, Diamond," Stated towards the Lady with a wink as she rises, sitting with those blades is not an option.

Getting into the jeep, Ravager watches Lady carefully, but then smiles to the Militant and waits for his answer before they are merrily on their way.

Note: She hates the heat.

"Yes, luv, I would," the Aussie replies, hand on the rig above him as the pair mount up on the Jeep. "But that's why I'm here with you two, and not sitting in Parliament, eh?" He grins widely, revealing a gold incisor, before he turns about and walks back through the Tube, the back of the plane hissing with hydraulic pressure as the rear door creaks closed.

The soldier by the Jeep politely hand over the car keys. In the back is a full array of materials: explosives of several varieties, including mines and anti-tank, assault rifles and pistols, extra rounds, a heavy machine gun with a proper mounting and belt of bullets, a sniper rifle, and several support packs, with medical kits, vitamin fortified chocolate bar rations, and canteens of water.

Between the two sits a mounted GPS with a complex three dimensional topographical map leading to the Parasec Limited facility, several kilometers west through the swiftly falling night. No radio signals come this far into the Outback, so a CD player is provided, with a selection of the music that Australians in the military listen to. Namely, British classic rock from the 60's and 70's.

"Well one day you're going to be collecting your pension and looking at porn on your Australian metered internet and you're going to think of those two nice ladies who did you a solid." Regan hops into the drivers seat. She takes the keys and jabs them into the ignition. The jeep rumbles to life and she twists in the seat with the CD case in one hand and her eyes on the gear in the back, poking through it with the other.

"That band sucks."
"That weighs as much as I do."
"Chocolate for the win."

Regan slaps a CD in and gives a twittering wave to the military types. The chocolate ration bar is jabbed between her teeth and she jerks the gear shift and rolls the jeep out of the tube.

"Thisss ith gonna be fun, Ravager." Regan says with her mouth full. "I give you first pick on the plan."

And then "Over and Over" by the Dave Clark Five starts to play. Loudly.

Ravager deadpans as the exchange happens, out of words herself at this point. They discuss the morality of this or who would or would not, and she will just *do*. But her past is the governor on this one.

Lowering she starts to fill her tac belt with additions provided, slinging the sniper rifle over her shoulder, if for nothing then the range alone, the scope unnecessary, but left alone in the assembly.

Granola? "We need meat, not this…" Lady takes one and starts the engine of this show, revving into gear and accelerating them.

"CRAP!" Yep, well said as Ravager braces for the wild ride that is… this whole TomFuckery she got herself into.

Just paint it red and she'll own it.

The airstrip disappears in the background as the Jeep moves through the rocky badlands and outsprings of fauna, the occasion dingo visible before the headlights, a distant sound of the didgeridoo calling a group of natives to the Dreamtime. In the distance, sits a small lit complex of buildings, with no road visible leading to it, merely a vehicle check-in point and a helipad nearby. A small group of new age houses, like one would find in a nice neighborhood in a nouveau rich suburban development, are to one side, and to the other side is a corporate warehouse, with an assembly factory behind it, slim pipes rising into the night sky. And in the center is a series of slim office towers, containing the nuts and bolts of the Parasec Limited outpost's daily operations.

"<Sir,>" a security employee says to an executive after entering his office, speaking Mandarin. "<There is a vehicle approaching on the south-southeast parallel, from the local air landing strip.>" The executive, sans jacket and his tie loosened in his office, looks away from a freshwater aquarium. The aquarium has a fighting fish in it, kept there to sooth him with its colors and dashing lines. "<Deploy a scout drone.>"

As the Jeep nears the facility, there's a distant humming, as a round metal orb with a camera mounted on it hovers through the air, small VTOL jets surrounding it at three points keeping it airborne. It is barely visible, until its nightvision sensor spots the Jeep and then a bright beam of light cuts from the sky, observing it so the camera can more easily tell what is inside the Jeep, and who is driving.

"I've gotta tell you, wearing all of that leather and, what is that? Kevlar?" Regan waves while she drives, peeling a stray strip of her blonde hair away from her brow, letting it flow in the wind. "You've got to be cooking in there, I'm sorry. AN-Y-WAY," Regan kills the CD player and clears her throat. "So I was thinking, you head one way, I head the other…"

Oblivious, Regan has yet to notice the incoming drone, and thus, doesn't stop herself mid-conversation to correct her story.

"…way. I don't have to worry about getting shot so much because I just need to be close enough to drown them in make believe sea water, so don't let me get in the way of you doing whatever you wanna do." Regan waves an arm. "I'm not the boss. I'm not here to be the fun pol-" Drone? "-lice."

Regan looks up.

"I can't help us with that." Regan admits, lips flattening. "This is awkward."

"Scale maille…" Ravager mutters in response, the muic ended… THANKYOUBABYJEEBUS…

Staring dead at Lady Mastermind while they rip across a setting desert plane, Ravager is just bracing herself for something, anything, even a bump in the road—-

Which happens in the appearance of the drone and Lady's awkward pause with words. "Then be the fun police. But floor it!" Ravager states as alabaster hair lashes around her scarred visage and more of those happy arsenal additions are being pocketed then expected!

"You drown them, I make sure the deal is done." Going stoic Ravager un-slings the sniper rifle as they bounce along the road. and tilts her head ever-so-slightly, peeling back the patch and casting a glow along the sight to take aim.

"Just be steady and warn me!" Trigger pulled after droid is attempted to be aimed upon.

A sniper clips a shot through the night, and the droid explodes in the air, the jet of cut air hissing through it like a lance as it bursts into sparks and fire. It falls to the ground with a clunk.

"<Drone destroyed, sir.>" "<Excellent. Place the facility on full lockdown, call up the security forces, and activate the I-CH.>" "<Yes, sir.>" The technician scurries out of the room, as the executive turns back towards his aquarium, steepling his fingers as he purses his lips in contemplation.

A warning klaxon sounds from the facility, as orders for closed quarters from non-combat and non-command personnel are given. People lock themselves into their living quarters, scientists and assembly workers begin locking down their work, the warehouse operatives begin shuffling towards a safe facility, and those in the towers begin moving towards hard rooms. Security personnel, deploying from stations about the facility, deploy with Chinese-made AK-74s ready with fresh clips of high quality ammunition (several grades above standard Chinese Army), taking up positions around the interior of the facility, and points around the exterior. The helipad lights up, revealing a waiting transport helicopter, and the vehicle checkpoint shows several Land Rovers present, all of them with 4-wheel drive and all terrain systems installed, comparable fo the SAS Jeep incoming.

Throughout the facility, dozens, if not over a hundred electric eyes peer about, as an artificial intelligence defense system comes online and prepares to defend each hardpoint of the installation.

Lady Mastermind has the good sense to gradually floor the jeep while her partner lines up the shot. The grunt of dissatisfaction of being caught so early on comes out in a boarding school huff, the kind of sound that wouldn't fit in the Wilson household. It's almost as if someone told poor Regan that her favorite restaurant uses canned ingredients.

"So, this is going to get interesting!" Regan yells so that she can be heard over the roar of the engine and the gunshot. She slinks a little lower in her seat and jabs one of her .45 pistols into a place she can grab quickly. "Because drowning takes time, which means you're going to be a very," Shift. "Very busy girl until I can get close enough to make them think I'm one of them, or their wife, or Jesus Christ or some shit."

Regan widens her blue eyes as the facility lights up like a Christmas tree on high alert. She takes one last bite of her ration bar and throws it into the air above. Littering. That's an extra charge to be tacked onto the list of crimes she's about to commit.

Flooring for the gates, Regan sucks in her belly.

"This is going to suuuuu-"

Littering… The least of their worries as Lady Mastermind takes care when she needs to and then floors it for the gates…

But beforehand, that droid drops and munitions left within the Jeep bed are looked over, scramblers, EMP's… A chuck of a few similar to the front seat in a bounce for Regan. "You do not look good in orange-of-any-country. Just say…" -ing.

"Got ya. Then you are on your own, let me know when they submerse!"

Bellies sucked and Ravager reaches to the right, the grapple-gun in hand firing to take hold upon the gates and jerk her form from the back of the jeep with a sudden rush of air.

"Not Jesus. Ji Gong at this point…" Crazy? Yep. Wealth? Maybe.

But As Ravager's form is zipped upward and over, a C4 is planted just beneath her passage if made…

The facility is divided into two wings, the assembly factory/warehouse and the living quarters/barracks, with the towers/command and control behind both. Between them are a diagonal line of bunkers and raised machine gun turret nests with soldiers inside. They all watch the Jeep approach, strangely not firing. It is about to become apparent.

The gate is a small affair, merely a long, black and red bar, along with another, linked to the modest chainlink fence around the facility which serves to keep the dingos out. But as Ravager goes over the gate, and the Jeep hits the front, something unplanned for both of them happens. The direct approach on the facility proves punishing, as after a split second of the Jeep passing through the entry crosses and breaking them, a land mine detonates beneath the Jeep, the mine selected for the space the Jeep is going over, from several candidates. The artificial intelligence logs the response, cameras tracking both Regan and Rose's geokinetic responses to the stimuli.

The Jeep's rear slams off the ground from the foolish rush attempt on the secure compound, and is sent flying into the air, tumbling head over head. There's laughing from the distant Chinese soldiers in the bunkers and above in the machine gun nests, before spotlights *KLAK* awake, lighting up the entry pavement that the Jeep was attempting to enter. To one side, on the assembly wing, the helipad. On the other, the Land Rovers, near the habitation section.

The Jeep, black and on fire, everything not already taken destroyed, slams into the ground on its side and rolls to a halt, perhaps offering cover. And it is needed, as a triangular cross-fire of Warsaw Pact compatible bullets comes out of either slanting triangle's gunpoint, into an interlocked firefield with Rose and Regan in the center.

Regan had -just- grabbed her pistol out of the center console before the world tilted ass over tea kettle around her. Even with the seatbelt on, the hard flop onto the side of the vehicle drags the side of her hip along the concrete, leaving a nasty raspberry she'll have to get cleaned up later. There goes bikini season, at least, not without telepathically dominating everyone at the resort.

When the jeep stops, Regan clicks herself out of the driver's seat and rolls into place behind cover. Both pistols come up and she jabs her back, hard, into the seat she was just using. In a rare moment of humanity, she winces in pain, bats her head against the seat, and clicks off the safeties.

"Just a little closer to me," She whispers over her and Rose's secure channel, gritting her teeth while hiding behind cover. She kicks at the rear view mirror, rips it off of its hinge, and uses it to peer around the hulk of the jeep. "Just a little closer and I've got 'em…"

And Regan will wait until one wedge of the approaching soldiers closes in. Her telepathic ability flares and reaches out for them in an effort to twist and distort their perceptions to see the other clump of troops screaming, shedding skin, and turning into werewolves hell bent on tearing them limb from limb.

Ravager lives solely on taking risks… Literally…

It makes for a poor team player, so when the jeep goes ass of elbow and Lady Mastermind is part and parcel, she cringes…. But stays her ground. The woman is part of this mission for a reason. Because even if she breaks a nail she will piss and moan later, but now… Will break more. And Ravager wont piss and moan, but she will break everything needed to check in that payday. Her Life.

ravager makes the grappel-aided leap and lands hard with the blast of the Jeep at her back, rolling to absorb the impact and blows while those incoming with fire are charged upon, arms extending and those swords flashing among the melee to end in hands that attempt to capably sever lines in passing.

Or limbs, whatever!

"Just keep the main busy. I have to get in.." Hindsight being 20/20… a map would have been nice to ask for!

There's a scream from the approaching soldier as he hallucinates his team mates changing shape, turning about and firing his assault rifle at them instead of himself, with a broad sweep of fire that discharges multiple three-round bursts. Shouts of Mandarin ring out from the approach teams that were moving out of the bunker/machine gun nest battlements to track down Ravager and Regan, the confusion caused by the hallucinating soldier allowing Ravager to get in close. The professional elites are no match for dual swords in close combat, being cut apart and serving to shield Rose from the incoming fire from the other nearby soldiers, the confusion and chaos letting Rose get a dead run opening for the doors to the front lobby of the facility. Despite being hardened soldiers, and being from a hardline country, they are unwilling to open fire on their own men, so the potential firepower of the two nests isn't brought to bear on Rose while she's still within the soldiers. But, should she attempt to move in the open space towards the faux-obsidian and glass double doors, with no other cover…

The artificial intelligence monitors the activities it observes, particularly confused by Lady Mastermind and her role in the battle. It isn't sure yet whom is making the soldiers misfire their weapons into each other, so it stays its hand at other countermeasures, merely allowing the soldiers to resist, despite being wounded and sometimes killed in the chaotic battle.

Ravager draws her blades back in a sweep of arms that triggers a pivotal withdrawal, in time to watch as blood spatters the ground before her shed blades of alien metal, reflecting the chaos that ensues with Lady Mastermind's… Tricks.

Only that moment of the pendulum to swing in her voyeurism and that bionic eye shifts to a green in duality of the blue, reflecting night vision before she races towards those doors and attempts to clear open ground, but as she does now….

Drones, lights, alerts? An EMP from one hand, flashbangs from the other. "Dull your senses in 3.2…." Ravager warns Lady. "Radio silence!"

And as the combination goes off she is trying to breach those doors.

Go time. Regan hoists her pistols low and slips the mirror into the open belly of her corset. She whicks her sweaty hair out of her eyes and breathes in three quick times, pushes to a crouched position…and then races for the remaining clump of soldiers as fast as she can. Without having fired a shot just yet, and using the chaos of Ravager's work, she slides the last few feet into the group.

Lady Mastermind strikes again.

She can confuse a room full of people with believable, psychosomatic illusions, regardless of how absurd, and though she cannot control their actions, she can control their minds, to make them believe what the outside world, or cameras, will never see.

This time, the illusion she flares out to the troops standing above her, while she's crouched low and using them for cover, is that they're surrounded by enemy soldiers, hellbent on their destruction. Bullets rain about them. The towers? Enemy soldiers. The vehicles? HMMVs with turrets. Lady Mastermind? A nine year old Chinese girl in a dress, crying, scared out of her mind, and every soldier that isn't them…wants her dead.

The EMP and flashbangs go off with a pulse of power, the building lights flickering as the I-CH military administrator program is blinded, the cameras outside the facility going dim. However, such measures were anticipated, the building shielded against dangerous energy waves, especially one as relatively benign as an electromagnetic pulse. The intelligence cycles through its all-seeing eyes, focusing inside the building inside. As the flashbang gives Ravager a cover, she is able to smash through and shatter the two double doors, entering the lobby.

The lobby is a sedate affair, not made for the public as the public would never visit this place. An unoccupied security registration desk is at the back of the lobby, between two wide elevators, and a cafe is off to the Rose's left, now empty, and to her right are a pair of bathrooms, indicating that two sexes work here. Past the lobby, two hallways break off, both labeled in Mandarin. If she can read the language, the one to her left indicates the physical plant governing building atmosphere, the one to the right indicates the building medical hygiene laboratory. And, of course, there are imprints beneath each lettering, indicating the universal marker for stairs. I-CH watches Rose in the lobby through round black domes lining the lobby, logging her progress and intents and movements.

Screams of terror, horror, confusion, and anger wrack out from the Chinese, as officers belt out orders in a modified battle language over the chaos, ordering soldiers to go into training disciplined formations to recover. The leadership knows that they are being psychically bombarded. The Chinese fall back, leaving their wounded and dead for the time being, since they still hold a foothold here. This is slightly atypical, since Chinese soldiers, culturally, value their dead highly, it being tradition to be buried in your hometown upon your death in even modern China. A weapons pull down order has been given, with a few highly disciplined mercenaries, the leaders, staring across the field from the towers with the spotlights, each armed with a grenade launcher with three-shot rotating ammunition hold. They are looking for the source of the telepathy.

Ah, the music of the night. Lady Mastermind is no stranger to the sound of terror and confusion. Terror is her left hand and confusion is her right, and in between both of her arms lies a ribcage. Within that ribcage is a sociopathic heart that beats remorseless. She's sweaty, scraped up, and in every breath, seconds from catching a stray bullet - or worse - in this job that went from cake to nightmare in seconds.

She travels with her troupe of soldiers, in formation with them, with her guns held low. Regan does well in crowds, fluttering out psychic waves that paint her to human perceptions as simply another soldier, mustering into formation. She breathes slowly, eyes low, head bowed, moving carefully with the soldiers, waiting until no eyes are on her.

The pistols in Regan's hands buck four times, two rounds each. With arms extended, she aims at two different heads and spins with her shots, lining herself back into squad formation…just another soldier, confused like the rest of them.

Ravager goes to her left after a moment of pause, the pause enough to settle the spray of glistening shards around her so that she knows where to pace herself, where not to, and to ensure no approach, but in all of this she is trying to parse what the fuck she just saw when she looked back at Mastermind and the troops. Her head suddenly has it's own goddamn pulse as reality is in one eye and the falsity in another.

3D ain't got shit on that backdrop! But the mission!

A staggering step is had and she blinks, taking the left after long regard… Her mother had taught her plenty, but the number of dialects in her mother-country were broad and wide, so she broke it down despite the rector blur of ache that has her almost drunk for the moment despite sobriety.

But to the right? Weights are tossed as well to at least buy a moment as Ravager mutters to Lady in her comm.
"In. Fuck you very much." Thanks! Friend! Her head hurts now and she is hoping their split works well as well as dizzied choices…

The hallway goes straight with small broom closets along the side for fifty or so feet, before it turns to the right. Around the corner is a long corridor along the outer edge of the office tower, with offices along the left on the outer edge of the building, atmospheric controls, electronic uplinks, and power stations along the inner right. And halfway into the array of physical plant, is a wide open room, with a security checkpoint in place, and a security station past it, with a hallway jerking inward right towards the hard room where the first floor employees are being protected. The security forces have already been informed of the incoming threat by the military intelligence, and open fire from behind black bulletproof chest high barriers deployed on the hallway's left arc from the wall, shooting with their AK-74's propped up on the bulwark. And beneath Ravager, in the hallway, once they've got her attention? Spikes jam up from the floor at the corner turn, on the entire square of the turn, a metal pungee trap activated by the military intelligence.

As soldiers drop, shot in the head, there's a shout, and the squad formation drops out from around the dying soldiers, as they attempt to spot Lady Mastermind in their ranks. There's panic from the soldiers near the dying, as they swing around with guns, several actually choking back sobs at the terrifying brush with death bearing down on them they're experiencing. The other nearby squads in formation back away from the squad being pieced apart, giving them plenty of space and splitting apart, aiming carefully and growling in seething hatred and anger at their squadmates dying.

"Bussssyyyyy, baaaaybee…" Regan whispers over the comms, careful to mask sounds coming from her as she plays along with the rest of the troops. Pretending to panic along the rest of the soldiers is hard work. She carefully slides one of her pistols away and tucks in with a group of soldiers, narrowing her eyes to warp in the next round of illusion to the dozen-or-so closest to her. With one slender arm, she reaches around the back of another soldier, reaching for his belt. Reaching for something spherical and clipped to his combat webbing.

Regan fires two more times, shooting out towards the troops giving her crew a wide berth. The Chinese are loyal to each other? Excellent. She holds the illusion to the soldiers closest to her, blocking that the gunshots happened at all from their senses. After she shoots, she disappears in the clump of soldiers again…

…and a grenade rolls out towards one of the other squads backing away.

Ravager hears the whisper and as the halls are littered with their own "traps" she lays them out in spectrum of mind and matter.

What matters in her mind? Nothing. Not anymore. Heroes are enemies and just as deadly. Full of lies.

Emptiness is the easiest thing to pull from and in tun it throttles her forward.

The barriers suddenly see the grappel shooting through, between in a scatter of pieces before the hook slides back and finds anchor enough to careen her form forward in a launch up-and-over the pungee traps of spikes, giving her momentum as bullets fly her way, the tension utilized to spring her up along the ceiling-corner of the corridor as arms extend and the Rhino's shoot to hands and return fire as bullets ricochet around booted feet, skimming the leather clad form as she returns fire upon them!

The tension and draw the only thing that keeps her throttled into the barricaded forms, but …


The wall is hit with a crumble of mortar on her bodies impact, but beneath it that C4 is planted and a hail of smoke rises in a veil to detract.

Precog only works so far..

From a command station near a spotlight, towards the right wing of the facility where the barracks and corporate village sit, an old man in a brigadier general's uniform watches the incident outside, boiling in rage. A veteran of the early 1980's war with Vietnam over the ouster of Pol Pot from Cambodia, he's seen the Vietnamese Militias, also known as the Viet Cong, tear apart Chinese soldiers with such tactics, although not with such humiliation in refusing to take even what he regards as a polite causality from a soldier's risk. It must be a woman. He lifts a microphone to his mouth, barking orders at the field commander.

Two more Chinese drop to the ground, before the grenade rolls out, and an explosion goes off, with screams as bodies go flying. An officer nearby the chaos comes out from behind a Landrover, and rolls a grenade at the soldiers maneuvering about the woman in their mist. An explosion of hallucinogenic gas mushrooms out, the purple mist causing all the Chinese to shout and laugh and cry. This is a rarely used countermeasure designed particularly for female sappers, the Chinese unwilling to kill their own soldiers, but a commitment in a state mental facility with a medical recovery and a military pension? They are fine with that. As the chaos begins, drug-induced this time as soldiers drop onto their knees in emotionally hysterical states, the spotlights scan across the courtyard, looking for the culprit.

The security troopers, dressed in black kevlar with face masks, are blasted backwards by the C4 and the barrier snaps into three smoking chunks, the soldiers behind it dead. To the left, is a computer system displaying the security grid of the building, and necessary hardpoints. To the right, is a stairwell, leading higher in the tower. And forward is the safe room for the first floor employees, as well as more doors leading to the various building controls for the air conditioning, heat, computer systems, ventilation, power and water, sewage, etc.

Lady Mastermind has had a nice, cushioned safety behind her wall of bodies. Six bullets and one grenade later, she's clipped their numbers down nicely. Overconfident and grinning at her own sweat-streaked mascara, Regan always did love subtraction the best in her high-priced Kindergarten academy. Why count up when one can subtract.

Her game, her bluff, is called.

When a grenade comes rolling in, she grabs the back of a soldier to shield herself from what she assumes is a blast, a flash; anything but hallucinogenic gas bomb. She sucks in her breath and the gas explodes all around her.

"Oh fuck me!" Regan hisses out over the comes, trying to catch herself before she takes in the drug-induced mule kick to her emotional state.

Regan, like the rest of the soldiers, falls to her knees, still holding strong to the image that she's one of their own.

"…Father…" Regan mutters, eyes welling up with fresh tears. Her lips peel back and her teeth bare as she lashes out with all of her mental might to those around her. Using her drug-induced state as a battery, she begins to cry, twisting out the illusion of the very ground swallowing as many as she can whole, choking them, suffocating them.

Ravager is blasted back by as much wall as the rest, but her "rebound" off an upper corner of the wall lands her on top of the pile of rubble, instead of beneath. Blame that extra moment of 'cling' and scrape of nails that leaves them broken, cracked and bleeding… Before she fell atop with a dull thud.

"Oh, for fucks…sake…" Finally that nosebleed comes as she slings limbs over and crawls at first to fall to the bottom of the pile…

"'Ey! Lady Bitch… Little Bitch… Respond…" A whisper as the platinum haired woman shakes it off and decides to go forward to that safe room….

Pause when Lady Mastermind is silent in response, or there is too long of a pause, her hand rubbing the back of her neck, glove feeling over the small *bump*. Pistols pivot back and hands are left bare as she slowly walks forward.

"No fucking you… Status!" Choices, choices, even as Ravager moves forward she is waiting…

There are howling shrieks as the soldiers around Regan hallucinate within their gas induced delusion, going particularly mad from the insanity, screaming and clawing at their face and eyes and helmets, rolling about on the ground. Meanwhile, a sniper on one of the spotlight towards gracefully scans his rifle along the mass of confusion in the concrete courtyard, picking out the one soldier that doesn't seem to be hallucinating as badly. He's not experienced with this type of thing, but a sniper is often a master of psychology and tricks and subterfuge, and this one is no different.

The sniper squeezes the trigger, discharging a round at Regan's legs and lower body, in case she is one of theirs and he is mistaken.

The safe room is sealed shut by a heavy duty metal door with the lock controlled by the artificial intelligence running the defensive operation, a black dome directly above the door, the unseen eye of the facility staring at Ravager through it. And behind the door is a large area akin to a break room, except with full water, computer access, alert systems status, extensive food provisions bordering on luxury (psychological hygiene is taken into account), and a single room with a bathroom, plus medical kits. About a dozen people are inside, huddling there in terror. They're all civilians, made up of the security desk clerk, the cafe staffer, a janitor, the rest being technicians for building functions.

"Shut your size twelve ass, MARTINIQUE!" Regan yells over the comms with a half sob. All around her, she's twisting her wrists with her pistols in her hands, growling her way through the illusion of the ground swallowing the ground-based troops whole, making them choke on their own, stupid, witless faces; the faces of everyone who'd ever disappointed her.

Ex boyfriends. X-men. Martinique, her sister.

Who apparently is Rose Wilson, at the moment.

"Do you have any fucking clue how long I took care of daddy while you were off doing some secret wannabe bullshit and then you come back and-" A rather feminine, yelpy screech whistles over the comm.

The bullet tears through Regan's thigh. She stumbles and raises her pistols, opening fire on the guard in the tower before rolling back behind some cover.

"Marty, I'm shot." Regan hisses, expanding her influence as rage settles overcomes her. She limps up, guns raised, limping forward and swaying her pistols around at faces. "I hate you so much. Daddy hated you, I swear to fucking God he told me that before he died."

Ravager stands in the room, the swords aligning her spine in their rigs, but at the base are those large Rhino's as well as the blades in horizontal placement for access, those mismatched eyes of bio-reality skimming surroundings in a soft afterglow while the Lady yells her own hallucinations over the comms, berating Ravager for a past uknown….and yet he knows it well enough.

Lips draw tight, eyes narrow, and swords hiss from their position to come to hands as the civilians in the room rescind to further hiding quarters. "Daddy always hated me, but that is not here or now, ~Sister~. You're shot? Suck it up, Buttercup." Her own words hiss back, as if what passes between them is known. Not truly…

Shit get's dark… You can hear it coming, hear it drumming…

"Daddy is not here to save us." Heard by the civilians and Lady as Ravager approaches the cowering bodies, those blades glistening.

"MAINFRAME!" A lowering to a crouch as one who seeks to scuttle back on ass is met by sword-tip along chin.


Sobs echo out from the bloody white-grey plane around Regan, as the aura of psionic pestilence widens and the guards inside the bunkers and atop them in machine gun nests feel the effects of Regan's hallucinations. The sniper that had fired the round at Regan pulls his rifle up and turns aside as she rolls about to fire at him, the rounds flying past him as one pegs him in the shoulder, the wounded soldier backing off. The only point of resiliency left, in the visible spectrum to Lady Mastermind, is the towers. Everyone else is dead, maddened, or dying from the combination of gas and madness. The general nods, watching very closely from his command post, hearing chatter in his ear from the executive in charge of the facility. He lifts his microphone again, switching frequencies, barking a simple word.

The two grenade launcher uses, on either tower, fire one blooper a piece down at Lady Mastermind, first the left, then the right, soldiers scrambling away in a maddened daze as they hear radio confirmation that grenades are being used. The rounds explode near Regan's cover, soldier's sent flying with a scream. The General watches quietly, having determined that this cat is valuable enough to trap.

After the door is breached, the men and women chatter in various Chinese dialects, looking at Rose in terror. Another steps forward, one that can speak English, the a buildings computer systems technician. "Fourth floor, behind the elevators, dead center of the building, Miss," he says meekly, to save the sword threatened man. "The stairs are your best way. The artificial intelligence can control the elevator. Please do not hurt us."

A light, wheezing hacking sound can be heard over the comm line. Regan has left the line on in her delirium, and has her leather clad forearm cupped to her mouth while she tries to cough out the worst of the poison. Fresh tears glob out of her eyes, smearing her mascara, nearly pressing the hot barrel of her pistol to her cheek.

"Stop telling me what to do. I hate it when you do that." Regan rasps into Rose's ears. Hunkered down around the screaming, which is very audible over the comms, the slender blonde bends her back, lifting her chin in a swanlike way to try to see around the corner. "OHMYGODWHATTHEF-"

Explosions rattle the comm lines, replaced soon thereafter by the sound of heavy breathing and semi-automatic pistol fire can be heard.

One arm charred and bleeding, Regan is covered in soot and blood as she rushes out of cover as fast as one limping leg will allow. She opens fire on the towers, buying herself a little cover on a path to slam her back against a wall out of view from the towers.

"We make it out of this, Marty," Regan ejects the magazines to her pistols. One under her arm, pinned to her ribs, she begins her reloading ritual. "I'm going to kill you. I'll forgive you for fucking Bobby Heenan, but oh, oh, oh," Regan rolls her eyes. "So dead."

And then she coughs once more, hacking over the line.

The man threatened backpedals into a wall, the blade-tip causing a bead of blood from his throat before….

There's a saving grace as hallucinogenic psychosis rioted bibble-babble comes over the comms from Regan. Eyes clench and Ravager is ready to kill for her team, her friends, family…

And another speaks up, with a god-damned herald of heavensent choir. He needed Jesus… and he summoned him. But got hell instead in response.

Ravager leaves one victim to make of him, another! One sword fold back along her arm while a smaller blade aims for kidney-centric vitals and uses the the man to tap-dance her in the direction, albeit swifter then his own legs could carry. (Carrying him most of the way!)

"I never fucked Bobby, but if you're going to hold it against me, give me his digits. Bitch.: Ravager is just prodding her to keep her concious as she waltzes that captive into the stairwell and into the Mainframe to hack it, as ordered, but as they dance their way up Regan and her captive hear her whisper…

"She dies… so do you. Make it fast…"

But with every pass along levels the tack of C4 is left to level the place. No traces. "See the blinking lights of your soul?" She states to the pleading man. Impending.

There better be a bar nearby… No…

A bullet hits one of the spotlights and the glass shatters, the bulb bursting with an explosion of sparks, partially blinding the soldiers nearby. The grenade launcher holder in the last remaining tower fires another grenade, letting it arc through the air after pulling his aim upwards, the grenade landing well behind Regan's cover and exploding. From the way the Chinese soldiers that are still combat effective are working, it's clear that there is a plan at work here, being discussed over secure communications.

The technician moves up the stairwell as fast as he can, with the cameras watching the pair work. He pauses before the door to the fourth floor. He looks to Ravager before he goes in, looking up to the dome above the door, and then putting his finger in front of his face, with the other pointing at the door. "Security."

"Why would I have his digits, SLORE?" Regan snarls over the comms as she slaps a fresh magazine into the last of her pistols. She holds the pistols to either side of her head, pointing them upwards, and clicks the slides closed. "Been over this a dozen times in my head but if you really need an explanation. He was tainted goods and he went to UCLA instead of Duke. So he literally when from eating garbage to committing to garbage."

A moment of silence passes over the line, accentuated by the sounds of dying, suffocating soldiers and open flames.

"Why the EFF am I talking to you?!?" Regan coughs and ducks her head, looking back to the last explosion, then in the direction of the helipad. "Marty? I think daddy's here somewhere, it's the only answer that makes sense. They're shooting shit at me from the towers, leading me to him. Have a nice life. I'm gonna tell him you're dead."

Regan ducks low and races at a limp from her newest position, cursing the overhead grenade fire that threatens to lure her into a trap. She chooses to work against this effort, choosing a direction they likely won't shoot.

"Why bother, bitch?! He already treats me like I am!" Ravager responds to Regan, as the scenario and words plague her like it is her reality, like Daddy, is Deathstroke, and this is another of his bastards that are upon pedastals she never knew of!!

Here's the Pride before the Fall.

«"You will be too if you go there! RE- LADY MA- WTFEVER!,"» But as Ravager and her captive scan and acess another entry she leaps through with him, kicking the door closed and triggering the bombs in the stairwell. Hope and a prayer is what will get her out… And what Ravager thrives on!

«"Kill them all to get to Daddy!"» All Ravager states as she and her captive pick themselves up in the room directed.

Oh, your eyes they show it all..

The soldiers, as Regan surmised, hold their fire to save to helicopter, the executive staff's only way out of the facility in the event of a diplomatic failure between the People's Republic of China and the British Commonwealth/NATO. Potshots ping the ground around her, as soldiers with assault rifles fire off single round bursts, before the fire abates once she reaches the helipad and goes into cover behind the helicopter. There's an eerie silence as the guns stop, only the moans and sobs of the dying punctuating the battlefield.

The technician screams as he's pulled through the entryway, dropping to the ground as the security in the checkpoint at the stairwell shoot at Ravager. They are armed with rifles and carbines, however, not pistols, and despite being point blank with Ravager, her speed gives her an advantage in terms of their reflex time to shoot her, compounded by the fact that they are not positioned properly for a stairwell penetration.

The tower shakes as the bombs go off, other security checkpoints along a side of the tower going up in flames as the bombs are detonated, cameras flashing out of existence.

The fourth floor is the mainframe's housing chamber, out of eight floors of the tower. Mainframe access points and computer programmer's stations line the corridors here, with various purposes related to Parsec Limited's international and internal functons held on the computer points. Along with I-CH's primary operative hub, in the center of the floor.

Regan shoves her back up against the side of the helicopter. Her teeth collect her lip in a sudden giggle. A moment of peace means a moment of thinking, even if her brain is trapped in some kind of emotional, hallinogenic nightmare. A fresh tear squeaks through, rolling off of her jaw, and she laughs over the line.

"Oh, Marty you just gave me an amazing idea. You're in the building, I know you are. You're not anywhere near the turrets are you? Because they're throwing grenades at me and I just got the best. Idea. Evarr." Regan coos and shoves one of her pistols into its holster.

Uh-oh. It's the 'ordering a Frappucino' tone.

"HEY YOU FUCKERS!!!?" Regan yells out as loud as she can, both in Rose's ear and across the eerie silence. She bangs the on the helicopter's fuel tank three times and starts her illusion. The side of the helicopter appears to tear open and fuel begins to leak all over the helipad…gushing towards the building proper. Regan steps out with a gun in her hand and the illusion of a soldier hugged to the front of her body, a hostage. "GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW AND TALK OR EVERYTHING BURNS DOWN HIGH ENOUGH FOR PRIME MINISTER KRIKEYSHORTS TO SEE."

Ravager has no fucking clue what that tone is, but she is about to find out as she hears it play over the comms with every resounding boom, every echo, every word and backdrop cry.

hat sis not stop Ravager from flinging her hostage to the side and literally through the fourth floor door as bullets fly her way, making her rebound a booted foot off banister, wall, blades hidden in soles revealing to scrape over surfaces and aid her in that rebound to keep her from catching straight on fire. Her speed is only based on something deeply ingrained, that and the syringe that had hit the balcony floor before Ravager returns fire and throttles to the side to entr in after her screaming hostage.

"Carefulll Reg's… I need… A few," A beat and Ravager is plucking that bionic eye free of her socket, the patch snapping back in place as the wires and inputs yank free. "Which. One. Which. One?" Hummed as the mainframe is scanned by one good eye, seeking an import to jack what they need before they leave. And to do so before Lady Mastermind (or herself) loses their asse(t)s.

There's an odd silence in response to Regan's threat, before a megaphone, with a heavy Chinese accent in the man using it says, "Very well." It hisses silent with an obnoxious squealth.

A field commander steps out, with a rank indicating he's the PROC equivalent of a Major, pistol strapped to his hip with the belt over the holster undone and hanging out to the side, his hand down instead of swinging with his walk to indicate he's ready to draw. He moves across the dead and dying, stepping over them, until he comes to a halt thirty yards before Regan. He says nothing, merely listening and frowning, his right hand near his pistol slowly curling his fingers inwards, then extending them to indicate he's going to shoot if something goes wrong.

The soldiers drop around Ravager and slump against walls, bleeding and incapacitated, most of them dead. The technician climbs to his feet as he is led before the mainframe terminally, a shaking hand pointing at a datajack on the computer. He is visibly terrified, and looking to cooperate as much as he can, his fear submerging his thoughts of the future for betraying his country to live. He's a technician, not a soldier, not even one of the spies that operate these computer systems.

Of course, there's no hostage. There's no gushing waves of petrol sloshing around their ankles. It's all an illusion, and the form of Regan holding her hostage with a gun to his head is only a show for the field commander. She warps out with her telepathy, ensuring that the man sees this and not the limping, skinny girl walking around him and drawing both of her pistols.

Regan Wyngarde, known by Interpol as 'Lady Mastermind', turns on her bootheel and swings her arms wide like she's waving a pair of pom-poms. Only these pop-poms are loaded with tumbler .45 caliber rounds.


The illusion drops while Regan squeezes the triggers with a laugh.

"You have a family?" Ravager silences her comm to her voice but leaves the sounds of Regan playing loud and clear for her hostage to hear as she jacks her eye into the Mainframe and thumb-rolls over the iris to trigger a reading and reaction that starts the download process… Her words in Mandarin, or a dialect thereof, as her mother had taught her in childhood s she was raised within…. Proper walls until her Father came and… here she sits…

If the man nods yes in truth, Ravager will step his way, grip him by his pants, and shove a wad of bills into the front of his pants. "Don't piss yourself," But he does not. He stares dead ahead at her and eyes widen. Rose knows how he will end anyway, and without a true cause.

The bills are withdrawn and placed back in her pouch, in replacement of a Rhino a sword pivots into her hand and she hands it to the man. "You know what to do, then…" And she turns her back on him as she waits for the process to finish, having already flicked her comm back on to listen and relay.

The field commander, at the swing of the heel and the draw of the weapons, snaps his hand to his waist and pulls the gun, but is cut down by the akimbo slugs and knocked off his feet with a cry. The machine gun nests open up on Regan, but the field of fire is imperfect from her proximity to the helipad, even without the illusion, and a spotlight is out. Bullets pepper the area around her in a wide field, only striking if she is unlucky. The troopers outside the facility, at this point, have mostly fallen back into a defensive position, their forward units having been wiped out and their rear units having been forced into a defensive position. Without the field commander, they're in a purely reactionary mode.

The technician, as the mainframe is hacked and gives up its secrets, looks down at the sword in his hand, shaking as he grips it. And then, he looks at her back as it is offered, gulping. He takes a step backwards, seeing the mainframe's screen flip and flash and flicker through Pinyin symbols, before he attempts a lame-armed thrust with the sword, right into Ravager's back. It is his first time ever doing such a thing, having barely seen fights even when young, the reason why he is a computer expert and not anything else.

The laugh wipes off of Regan's face immediately when she's fired upon from above. She twists and jukes as fast as she can, trying to get out of the way of the incoming fire as she dances a path closer to the building where the angle will be even worse. On her way there, though, a pair of bullets whizz her way, one of them shearing a chunk of skin off of her hip, not far from the nasty raspberry-colored tear in her leggings.

Regan spins and falls into the mud, surrounded by troopers she'd choked the life out of minutes ago.

Lady Mastermind activates her defensive mode. Coughing and tearing at the eyes, she sends out a ripple of psychic waves, giving a show for the troops that a gunshot and bloodied Regan Wyngarde has stumbled into a messy, bloody heap twenty feet to her right.

"Their general's dead." Regan coughs over the line quietly, convering her mouth while she slow-crawls away from her illusion, grabbing a few unused grenades along the way. "Marty, you should see the looks on their faces; I'm kinda messed up but they look so stupid." Regan whispers under her breath. "I swear on daddy, Martinique, that after I kill all of them, I'm going to those apartments and choke the life out of all of their stupid families and oh…they'd better have jewelry that isn't embarrassing to be seen in."

You… Were always faster then me…!
I'll never catch up with you…!!

Ravager left the decision to her hostage, and as the data uploads and flickers hues and reading through that detached eye, Tavager keeps sentinel, all the while listening with a thin-lipped apprehension… She hates being called Marty, for more reasons then one. But when the shadow of the man seeks to raze her own sword against her instead of self, she spins and that gloved hand built of the same kevlar as her suit catches the blade he can likely feel it sinking in. The other Kherubim blade that slices the webbing of her hand and through her suit is likely to find home in his abdomen.

"Three more… Minutes… Regs'" Stated as she keeps that eye locked upon her "hostage" and that battle for life and death comes while intel downloads.

We all have our secrets…

The machine gun fire from the turret swivels to follow the fake Lady Mastermind, before it cuts out, thinking she's dead. As Regan manuevers amidst the bodies and the dimming lights, the spotlight not on her and on the location of the illusion instead, the smell of blood and guts and vomit and bowel can be acutely sensed from the horror that is war, experienced so close.

The technician's eyes widen as the sword goes through his stomach, dropping the sword and falling down to his knees, gurgling and sputtering as he experiences death, before he falls over onto his side, stretched out on the ground in a rapidly spewing poor of blood. The mainframe clicks as the requested data is cleared into the eye, the screen returning to the previous ready state appearance.

The executive in the top of the building turns to look at his computer screen, reading data from I-CH. He frowns, and reaches forward to his keyboard, typing over a number of strokes on his Pinyin keyboard.

Regan can hear a distant shudder, from the direction of the warehouse, followed by what appears to be a distant cacophony of hydraulic hisses as machines engage.

"Three minutes is a long time." Regan whispers as she crawls, finding what seems like a safe place on her way towards the line of trucks. "Hey." Regan continues. "You remember that time daddy took us to the club for the first time? What'd he spend on our dresses again? I know he spent more on me, but that's not the point." A beat. "That was fun."

Covered in mud and blood, Regan snarls and peels a mud-clotted strip of blonde hair from in front of her eyes and settles down. In some ways, she's lying in wait, waiting for the guards to go check out the sexy, blonde body all filled with holes, so she's gone silent, breathing slowly, watching, listening.

"O. Eff. Shit. Croc Dundee said war machines right?" Regan suddenly speaks up and crawls to her feet, speeding her way as fast as her limp will allow towards the front of the building. She holds the illusion, granting her an illusory, pseudo-invisibility. "We're about to get tanked or Iron Man'd or something; hell with this." Regan coughs into her elbow and slips just inside of the destroyed main doors. "I don't do robots."

~I don't do robots..~ Stated as Ravager puts her eye back in that scar lined socket of abyss until it is filled with the bionic bonding. «Sorry Regs', but I got robot bits. Thank //daddy.//» Ohh..that's going to hurt!

But even as she speaks as such Ravager is is watching the light fade out of her hostages eyes and when he slumps she catches him before he falls, not letting him hit the ground a forgotten corpse. Even her eyes ….

I can see it coming…

"You at least got a warrior's death…" And as she settles his body across the floor, in his hand is a blinking timer and Ravager is exiting stage right, hitting a window with the necessary fire to shoot forth a grappling line and propel her body out as everything behind her is on a timed ignition and likely is an added propellant to her exit (stage left!).

«"I got the data! Beam us up Scotty! (in Aussie accent to boot!), or it burns with us!"» Over the comms as Ravager lands and seeks Lady Mastermind in her bee-line across the rumbling field.

"Let's go, toots, we're late for tea time!" Fuckmefuckmefuckme… Her pace is as fast as possible despite the droplets of blood left behind…

There are machine screeches and hisses from the warehouse wing, near the helicopter, before the warehouse doors slide open, directed by the I-CH. A trio of insect robots with vulcan cannons mounted on the undersides, controlled by AIs inside them, hunter-killer programs, trundle out in the distance across from the barracks, immediately ignoring the illusion. Even if the I-CH is blinded outside, courtesy of the loss of the building cameras, the three drones can see, scanning with nightvision across the field. As they spot Ravager running across the field towards Lady Mastermind's true location, they start firing brief bursts of vulcan fire, red tracers lighting up the night every third round. There's a distant howl somewhere off in the distance, as a group of dingos in the wild hear the high pitched staccato guns firing.

Regan, pissed off and mascara-streaked, starts to limp-rush out after Ravager to meet her halfway. The fire from the insect robots is more than audible in the first few steps, which sends Regan bucking low and sliding through the dirt to hide for cover, once again, behind the destroyed husk of their Jeep.

"Marty stop looking like the platinum chick!" Regan growls out, batting her elbow backwards, repeatedly, against the call button for the Australian SAS pickup. "I was starting to actually think she was cool and you're effing ruining everything." Regan slumps her shoulders. "Per norm. GodYouFuckUpEverythingIHateYou. I hate robots. They don't have brains. Like my sister."

Running out of tricks, Regan leans out to fire a pair of rounds towards the Insect Robots. Pop! Pop!

Thinking quickly, Regan stretches her psychic senses out to the machine gun nests overheard, lidding her eyes in concentration to try to give the machine gunners the impresion that the two of the vulture droids are her and Rose, opening fire on loyal, good Chinese troops.

"You're dying first, Marty." Regan mumbles.

"I am the platinum chick you nutty git…" So let's call in the accents of all ages!

Ravager slides in, skimming hip-cheek over asphalt to impact Regan and hook an arm in hers to use momentum to keep her moving. "Nope, no sitting! Just keep moving, just keep moving..!" No they are not swimming but same difference and they are tracing them now.

«"Motherfucker Down Undah! You leave us to swing with the dingoes and I shit you not…. 7 layers is not just a Hel, or a burrito. Your gold tooth is worth something!"» Another injection, the syringe hits the dust and Ravager is using that Boost to cary or drag Regan's Frappucino ass if she has to.

«"I will toast my face Terminator syle."» The pistols in her hand pivot out and aim back after she drop caltrops…well Like a terrified rabbit drops pellets, but with far more grace!.

The machine gunners swing around to fire a brief burst at the insect drones, before there's a crackle of 'CEASE FIRE', over the radios, and they stop, having learned from the illusionary tactics by now. The insect drones spread out into a diamond pattern with no rear portion, and they clamber forward dextrously towards the destroyed Jeep, even as the distant helicopter comes in the distance. It's unmarked, and black.

The large droids pause as they hit the caltrops, the cameras inside them swiveling downwards, and they slowly manuever through the field of caltrops as they remain hot on the trail of the pair of Suicide Squad operatives. And then, the helicopter lights up with a salvo of rockets, careening and spiralling through the air at the three drones with smoke behind them. There's a field of explosions lancing through the night, as the Blackhawk swings around and sets down five feet off the ground, the Aussie from the beginning of the mission dressed in black fatigues, sans any uniform of note, ushering the pair inside. "Y'done good, gals," he says, with a grin, his right arm braced on the inside of the helicopter and his left arm beckoning the girls aboard.

Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.

Regan is mind-boggling the aching pain all over her body while she's doe-se-doe'd away from the Jeep. She hobbles and is dragged, sometimes having to hop with her good leg to keep up with the speed that Ravager is putting on. The blonde gets a shot off, an inaccurate one, but it's timed with the flow of the incoming missiles, which leaves her gawking, for just a second, in wonder whether or not she'd hit some kind of special soft-point on a robot.

"You're the platinum chick? I don't-" Regan palms her eye socket and sucks in a breath, shaking her head to wish away the stink of the toxic gas out of her sinuses. "-fuck this job today." Regan growls and hobbles the last few feet to the helicopter.

She grips the rails and climbs onto the floor of the cabin, dragging her muddy, bloody, risquee-leathered ass to a safe spot.

"If you see a girl about my size with brown hair, shoot at her until she's gone, okay?!" Regan calls out to the front of the helicopter while she hops her backside off of the floor and shoves her pistols away.

"If you call her Marty? That'd be me." A shift of gaze from Ravager and then back to Regan. "It's no wonder you hate eachother. I almost want to hate you too, now." States as they ascend into the chopper, limb-by-battered-limb, almost ignoring the Aussie until she aims high kick to his center-mass, desiting to send him into the Hell they came from.

"What she said!" A pause anyway, despite end result of him dodging or going overboard into the shark-infested waters of Robot-Downunder.

"Drop us off in Metropolis. Downtown. Let Waller know we kissed the dingoes goodnight and deserve a night of returned kisses." Yeah. Here's hoping.

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