What Happens To A Toad When He's Struck By An Arcflash?

October 01, 2018:

For The Movement. #NoBowels

Allentown. Pennsylvania.

The Sticks.


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…


Arcflash claps her hands as she stands just outside of the cunningly concealed panel truck. (The cunning concealment is that it's parked in the place where the state cops often park to bust truckers.) "This is going to be great," Arcflash says. "Wow! I can't believe it took a portal to Hell or whatever for us to be able to take direct action like this."

On the dashboard of the panel van is a cute little phone holder, whereupon Arcflash put a phone. The phone is showing a GPS track on a map. Apparently the GPS tracker is on a truck from Rick's Sporting Goods, in particular one which is carrying — well it's probably got all kinds of camp crap nobody cares about but might find useful if you're a bleeding heart.

It also has a shipment of the real sporting goods. That's right: Firearms, and ammunition. It's supposed to be well clear of the "New York Traffic Problems." That is technically true.

"I want to say that I'm really honored to be working with you," Arcflash then says, looking towards her amphibious compatriot, smiling with only some effort. "I really think this is going to make a difference, and after the demons are all gone," as if, "there's no way they can get these weapons out of the hands of the people."

"Have you jacked many semi-trucks before?" Arcflash says, even as she starts squinting towards the four-lane highway nearby. The plan requires her to stand in the road and get hit by the truck.



The head of the Toad pops up from beneath the seat and he doesn't even wipe the various stages of puke from his mouth. The chunks and bile just drop from his face as he turns to look at Arcflash. Which is an interesting way of seeing things because Toad is hanging upside down on the roof of the inside of this truck. He's just stuck to the ceiling and he likes being upside down. Plus, it makes vomiting in a vehicle that doesn't belong to them even more fun. "I hate Pennsylvania. There's so much…" Toad shudders and almost blows more chunks. "… fresh air."

Toad's tongue snakes out to swipe at the phone screen that's on the dash, zooming in to see if he can't get a better look at the path in which the truck they are after is headed. He knows how GPS stuff works but he's not exactly paying too much attention now that someone next to him has lied about being honored to work with him. He just turns his gaze slowly back at her and just, y'know, stares.

"Uh huh." Toad's tongue is hanging out of his mouth for a moment and drool just drops from his mouth. It's weird drool. It's green. Or brown. Or both. "How much extra they payin' you to keep me out of the way?" Toad assumes the worst. Because he's The Worst.

Toad reaches up to pull his goggles onto his eyes. "Semi-Trucks? Nah. Armored trucks? Every Thursday for six months." That tongue shoots back out to snatch up a random bug crawling across the windshield. "Can't be harder than that, can it?"

The plan requires Toad to kick some ass after Arcflash gets hit by the truck.


Toad zooms in. The dot representing the truck is barrelling down this stretch of highway. The only even plausible turnoff is a farm road about five kilometers past and it would need to slow down to make that turn. That's what makes this an excellent hijacking point. FOR NOW…

Past them it's clear for another couple of kilometers. Then there's a Wawa and an interchange for another highway. From there, through the hardening arteries of America, can justice be done.

"Are you okay?" Arcflash asks, after the vomit.

Then she blinks several times. "I'm not getting /paid/," she says with a laugh, one with a little more effort. "I'm doing this for the movement! I mean I don't even know what I'd do with money here. If you want to give me a cut so I can get lunch, of course, I'd be glad to take it. Why, does the movement pay you more regularly?"

Toad goggles up.

"Oh. Uhm" Arcflash purses her lips, pushing past the faintly nauseating smell coming out of the truck cab. In fact, she deals with it by just letting her nose and tongue become pure light instead of slightly coagulated mutant flesh. (This is not visible.)

"Well… I think the big difference is that it's a lot bigger but it's also a lot lighter? Like per unit. It's pretty likely that it's going to spill out when I get in the road, so we may be kind of picking through the wreckage. You're going to be okay hauling the stuff yourself, right? I can't really…"

The phone makes a warning chime. "Ulp! Places, everyone!" Arcflash goes 'fwash!' with a photo-flash of light and reappears on the shoulder of the road. She is easy to spot in the dark even if she doesn't exactly glow. She gives a big thumbs up and turns to face oncoming traffic. As the truck lights begin to glow round the bend, she says, to herself, "I see how he got that reputation…"

And with Toad's behavior on her mind, she leaps into the middle of the road and strikes a shocked pose. There is a hideous blaring of the horn - the truck brakes, the brakes scream, the truck begins to list… It's gonna be messy!


Toad just kind of continues to stare at the Arcflash for the entire half of a conversation that he's not exactly paying attention to. Not really. This is the most anyone has said to him before punching him across the room or striking him with lightning.

He really hates rain nowadays. Especially storms.

Get it?

When the Arc of Flash makes with the disappearing, Toad just rolls his eyes beneath his goggles. Not that he can judge or anything. Because he's definitely not. "Ain't even sure if 'pay' is the right word. Bloody 'ell!"

Toad swings himself out of truck they were in and onto the roof. He crouches there and adjusts his goggles accordingly in an effort to be primed and ready when the impact happens and he can hop to work.

Although, even while in his crouched position, his tongue is snaking out to dig into his ear. It digs deep and his eyelids flutter a bit from whatever he's trying to dig out of there. He's paying attention. Kind of. This is one of those precision jobs and he's not exactly the best at doing those. He's more of a jagged instrument with cooties when it comes to things like this. But if it's for the movement… it's for the movement.

And by extension, for Magneto.


Toad reaches into his ear… hole and finds…

Oh that's a big one! He must've gotten the last one twice this week to get such a buildup! It's chewy and kind of tangy-bitter. And is that a bug in it? A little German cockroach? It just might be. Maybe PA isn't so bad after all, eh?

Meanwhile Arcflash is briefly visible on the top of the truck's cab even as it turns and topples over with the imperious steadiness of a dragon that has been suplexed by an extreme teen with intense super-powers. The mild steel and panelling of the trailer rupture and the contents begin to fly out, spilling out like a pinata of consumerism. Surrealism gets helped out when several pre-packaged tents bust open and the shock-corded structures begin to expand, pop-stoppling up as they are caught up in the wind.

Arcflash reappears standing atop the passenger's side door of the cab and peering in. "I think the flatscan's alright!" she calls to Toad.

Someone in the cab curses. A gun fires twice and the bullets hit Arcflash in the face, making her flinch back. Her face seems to jutter-jerk for a moment as she rubs it with both hands - 'hands' - and she says, "A little too alright. Hey! Put that down!" Arcflash calls down. The reply is gunfire.

"Can you?" she calls to Toad, pointing vigorously downwards as she gets shot in the arm again. There's another of those spark-flashes as the bullet goes through her arm. "You're firing straight up, dumbass," Arcflash informs the driver. (He swears at her and starts reloading.)


Toad is in the middle of nomming whatever he's dragged out of his ear when everything seems to start to hit the fan. He's chewing idly, like he's got a new piece of gum or something, when he realizes that Arcflash is asking for some assistance.

Sigh. Fine.

Toad leaps clear from the truck to slam down onto the Sporting Goods truck ease. "I got this." is said quickly before Toad fits himself into his crouching state and flicks that tongue out to smash right through the glass of the window and into the cab so that it can wrap around the head of the gunman, yank - snap and FLING!

That's pretty much the plan of action for getting rid of people that like to shoot at the people that are helping him help supply the movement with the weapons needed to combat the stupid baselines.


Hippity hoppity, Toad's now on top of me. Thwippity tonguety, flatscan with gun -

The truck driver is summarily hoisted up and hurled up into the air with incredible force. Due to the earlier gunshots, the man actually manages to catch his bullets around the point where he reaches sixty feet of elevation, which largely descend into his spine and upper legs. He comes down into a culvert down the road.

Arcflash looks over towards where he went.

Arcflash vanishes with a flash.

Six seconds later she's back with another flash. "That's just too bad," she says, before making as if to slap her hands on the hood of the truck. It makes no noise. "But! Okay! Here we go, now to find the guns! That went… super well."

Another flash and she is walking gingerly into the wreckage of the busted-open truck. Her lips thin as she raises one hand, casting a cool, white light into the entire area. "… I have no idea what the guns look like. Would they be in boxes or something?"



Toad has absolutely no regard for the life of whatever stupid human he's just launched into the world or whatever. He doesn't even look in the direction he's thrown him. Instead, he's been focused on trying to see exactly what kind of stuff they've scored.

With a backflipping leap, the Toad lands on the edge of the end of the truck where he can balance with extreme style. Not that he knows he's doing anything with style. He's just kind of doing the thing where he's crouched on the edge of the downed truck and peering out over the contents that've been spilled onto the street.

"Let's find out."

Toad rears his head back and leans into it, flinging glob after glob after glob of nastiness in the direction of various boxes that haven't been destroyed by the crashing. That spit drips and sizzles things that it touches due to the acidic nature of it but it's very much going to make it easy to see where the guns and weapons are. Or whatever containers there may be.

In the midst of the spitting, there's some random tongue action that slaps and yanks at various options for gun hiding, to snatch or strike to see what kind of damage he can cause. The search for more guns!



Demons! The Tri-state area is at war. There are heroes on both sides. Agents of SHIELD, escaping the perils of questionable ratings and a somewhat iffy mandate regarding fighting the agents of SATAN, are not present in this storyline. The bold and heroic BROTHERHOOD strikes a blow for the rights of mutants, even as —

anyway: Arcflash winces at the globbing-up and the hissing of horrid sizziling nastiness. "I didn't know you could do THAT!" she calls.

Since when could he?? That wasn't what Arcflash heard about Toad! (She heard a lot about Toad.)

However, she then says, "Wait wait WAIT wait wait wait wait I saw a shotgun in there. Hold on -" And now it's her turn, that lamplike light coming from her hand turning, on her other hand, into searing welding force, smashing and force-burning off cardboard. As it flickers and flames, she says with delight, "Here! Okay, I think I found them! Come get them!"

"I can't, like… carry things," Arclight explains, perhaps anticipating objections. "I'm going to look for the ammuniiiiiii maybe I shouldn't burn my way to the ammunition."


The Terrible Toad is all up in the mix of trying to figure out what in the holy hell they're going to do about all this. He hops down and extends his tongue to snatch up and pile up the weapons that have been uncovered and holds them in a section of his tongue. Which kind of means that he can't talk. Good. Or well. He doesn't even try because that's just going to make him look even more stupid.

He pauses to preen just a little bit at the process of being capable of making someone look at him like he's pretty dang cool. Who knew acid spit could do that to a person? Props!

Toad even takes a quick second to flex.

He motions towards some of the other crates and things hopping in their direction and using POWERFUL LEG STRENGTH to kick them open in search of the ammunition. It's like trying to find a bullet in a haystack or something. One hand also comes up to point at Arcflash and keep her back. He doesn't need her light igniting anything and making the ammunition go boom.

Especially, while he's in the middle of it all.



"Okay," Arcflash calls from outside. "Hey, I think - I'm going to pull the truck up, alright? It's an automatic, right?" ("I can drive automatics.")


She can drive automatics. With some lurching difficulty the truck backs up near to the wreck, where the semi-truck itself is starting to gently smoke ill-favored fumes. Soon it will catch fire, no doubt soon after that the most annoying flatscans of all - cops - will arrive. It's a miracle it hasn't happened yet, but that's why we stage our crimes out in Pennsylvania, where life is cheap and only the Amish will see.

"Are you going to keep a gun for yourself?" Arcflash calls. ("ugh," she thinks to herself, "I sound like an asshole.")


Toad comes hopping over with a comically large pile of guns on his tongue and ammo in his arms. He's barely capable of holding it all but it looks like he's kind of got it under control. His hopping brings him right to the back of the truck they're using to transport it all and he starts unloading his arms and his tongue right into the back of this truck.

When his tongue is no longer being used as a carrying device, he slurps it back into his mouth and shrugs. "Might keep 'em all. Ain't like the others really need… guns, right?"

Yes, that's kind of a dig into his own powers while also being something of a 'prop' to the other members of the Brotherhood and their abilities. "Ain't like our whole thing bein' better than humans?"

Toad reaches up with his tongue to pull the door closed on the truck of ill-gotten gains.


As Toad secures himself in the back, Arcflash opens the little access hatch. This is partly to help air out the cab, which smells of Toad, and also to let her talk to him.

Which was contrary to the idea, but whatever.

"Well I'm glad you asked, actually. The thing is that a lot of people don't have powers like ours, which is kind of why I figure we have this noblesse oblige situation going on - people who are no less mutants than you or I but aren't able to fight as well need some way to even the odds. And the rhetorical power of firearms is going to get respected a lot more by people who themselves derive power from blah blah blah blah BLAH blah blah, blah blah blah BLAH, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah"

Arcflash doesn't shut up about her theory of gun distribution until they reach Jersey City.

Which takes surprisingly little time. Probably because most of the traffic cops are converging on a horrible attack on an overturned 18-wheeler…

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