DeviousMe

"I'm not sure..." the rebel Unteroffizier returned the optic cable to her pack after taking note that she was indeed still alive, even the shocked sniper having gotten away with no more than a damaged scope, the HUD of his blast goggles nor projecting only static over the startled man's right eye. The rifle had, of course, been jerked back around the corner.

While the possibility her comrade had thought of hadn't yet occurred to her, one thing was sure: if that was a regular ŠZBV cyborg, it wouldn't be behaving this way. Something was up. A trap would've been illogical. There were better ways. No, something else was going on here.

The Unteroffizier took a deep breath. No time like the present.

"Hey!" she yelled around the corner, of course staying in cover with her rifle clutched ready and speaking in German, "What are you waiting for? Your Sovereign decide killing people quickly isn't good enough anymore...?!"

Now, that was. Not long ago, a moving sewer lid and rather conspicuous welding process had done that job more than well.

Needless to say, the quartet in gray uniforms had made themselves thin as soon as the characteristic noise of someone prying open an entryway came from above them, high-tailing it about the nearest corner before Egregore had spotted them.

And now they'd spotted him - well, not literally, what with him being invisible, but peering around that corner with an optic cable, they had a good idea what was there.

Well, at least so they thought.

After all, it could only be one thing: an ŠZBV cyborg equipped with thermo-optic camouflage. That made this thing at least third generation...maybe even fourth. The woman holding the optic cable swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat at the thought. They'd only heard of those. None who'd seen one had come back alive.

Still, they'd have to go on the attack if they wanted to get to street level. They had no doubt the cyborg would hear if they opened another lid in the local area, and then it would be the unseen party, not them. No, they had to take it out, and take it out now.

But how?

Even as the four still pondered this, the long barrel of an M40 slowly, inexorably came around the corner, the man at the other end of its scope trying to gleam any sort of fix on the 'ŠZBV freak'...

[ QUOTE ]
*giggles*

Yay for Averick-the-Goober!

*stalks off to find her next victim*

[/ QUOTE ]
*points to Nin*

Still owes me a Velasco post.

A sewer entrance was quick to be found, the lids spaced evenly along the streets decently visible even in the pale yellow lighting of the nighttime city. A spacious system of tunnel-like sewers proved present as well, though unlike Paragon's back home, the one here had actually been designed with sanitation in mind.

If Egregore chose to enter, he would find that though the old tunnels still existed, the sewage channels had been replaced by high-capacity transparent piping, and the walls reinforced with smooth concrete. Even lighting was present, neon fluorescents dispensing plenty of illumination for any inspector that might be walking along the pipes to check them for potential problems.

Inspectors, however, would not be something he'd have to worry about today. No, that dubious honor would belong to the troop of gray-garbed soldiers on their way to a certain roof upon which one of their number had by now radioed for help...

Needless to say, the gray-garbed soldier was rather taken aback when his 'ŠZBV freak' high-tailed it, and with Rezyin having boosted away, this naturally left him more than just a tad confused as he pushed against the roof with his elbows to raise his aching back.

Still...he was alive. That wasn't something to complain about. Sure, in pain and feeling sick, as if some heavy metal band had taken up residence in his guts for practice sessions, but alive. And alive was good. Better yet, he was alone, and the better there was a whole lot more significant than it sounded.

"Auweia..." he groaned in response to the rather uncomfortable result of his first (and failed) attempt to get back on his feet, and thus picked the option of rolling over onto all fours and trying again from there. This time, it seemed to work, and he managed to stagger to the edge of the roof and have a look about.

He smiled when he saw the research institute partially ablaze across the way. At least they'd done some damage. Probably not enough, but at the very least it would buy them more time. That was good too. Time was always good, even in the smallest increments.

Below, the streets were practically deserted, the soldier remembering well VB evacuating everyone when their attack had started - which was of course, once more, good. He had a feeling he wouldn't be outrunning anyone right now, so no night patrols to worry about running into was definitely of advantage. He just had to make sure to stay away from the institute itself, the perimeter of which was likely under very tight lockdown by now.

Nevertheless, he couldn't help but duck his head in a twitch when a trio of Comanche helicopters roared by overhead at low altitude, course toward the research center. He let out a sigh of relief once they'd passed, leaving him and anyone else unheeded. They were busy elsewhere...

((By the way, I'm not holding anyone's hand this time around. If you want something to happen in this thread, you're going to have to be proactive. Careful, though; the actions you take will have consequences, and they may be good or bad. ))

((Alright, guess that wasn't clear enough. Because no one stopped the rocket, the portal went headexplody and sucked everyone into Axis America. ))

((Well, I was expecting a somewhat disoriented look around first, but okay, I can add this early. ))

The soft yellow of the Staetlov District's streetlights cast their shine into the dark, giving the area almost the general aura of New Overbrook at night. Still, the place looked decidedly unfamiliar, the buildings about looking somewhat less colorful, not to mention just generally rearranged. If this was Galaxy City, it certainly wasn't their version.

Most noticeable, however, was the distinct lack of people on the streets, and the familiar black-and-red skull banners of the 5th Column hanging from buildings and free stands here and there. Overhead, a Comanche helicopter rushed on by, but paid no heed to the new arrivals. It had business elsewhere: namely at the district's other end, where large columns of smoke billowed skyward, fed by the fires of a building that resembled the Freedom Corps HQ.

Of course, by those working to put out the fires, even a blind person could've seen it wasn't...

The rocket detonated with thunderous cacophony, but the expected fireball remained conspicuously absent. Instead, the twisting, streaming sphere of riftlike energies suddenly inflated like some manner of demented balloon, expanding outward with ever-increasing speed, a wall of blue-white luminance washing across the entire general area.

Up and out the hemisphere went, swallowing warehouse and street alike as would an artificial sun, never stopping, never ceasing, desiring all it could reach within its grasp, and growing paler by the moment. But it was a cold light, brushing upon the skin as gentle as spring's morning breeze.

The gray-garbed soldier coughed a sputter as he woke, trying to chase away the spots that now danced before his eyes with reflexive wipes of fingers to his face. Not that it mattered much, that was, for even before he'd managed this much, the light came up to greet him, and just like that, the world disappeared behind a veil of purest white...

--------------------

Štátna Zbrojovka
Stewart Island, New Zealand

Irony was a funny thing. At least...that was his opinion. And looking down over the transparent rail of the curving balcony, his sight encompassing all that went on several hundred meters below, it certainly would seem he'd been right. Even in the darkness of the cloudy night that currently dipped the balcony on the tower's uppermost floor in near-pitch black, he could see the multitudes of people and equipment moving in and out of the bright-white cones of the floodlights below. He smiled. Yes, irony was a funny thing.

To think, here stood Marek Vlastislav Heinrich Alexandrovich Scha...okay, maybe not. To think, here stood the Lord Protec...no...that just sounded silly. Besides, he wasn't British, and he already knew a Protector. True, Babe probably wouldn't mind, but it just felt unprofessional to use someone else's name, especially a guy he knew that well. Fine. Here stood the Leader. Simple enough. Happy? Good.

"Mh?" he remarked as he took note of a light making itself wide next to him, falling outside through the balcony door someone had just opened in the somewhat semicircular wall of opaque windows behind him. It widened swiftly, sliding up his black boots and trousers, and glinted sinisterly off the silvery metal of the artificial spine grafted partially into, partially atop the athletic musculature beneath his bare back's rough, orange skin.

"Something I should know?" his Slavic-accented tone inquired of the tall silhouette that had appeared in the doorway, leaning his crossed arms' elbows against the transparent railing.

"Yes..." came the gradual response, "There has been an incident..."

--------------------

Staetlov District
Paragon City, former USA

The rudely woken soldier winced as the light penetrated his eyelids with a blinding sensation. Thankfully, it disappeared as quickly as it had come to be, though in retrospect, that probably wasn't much better, considering the world his eyes now saw had been dipped in naught but black.

It took several seconds for him to regain even the slightest amount of vision, and it took even longer for the blurry spot of pale-yellow light that he now focused on to turn into the familiar disk of the moon in the sky. Slowly but surely, the rest came back after that, and he found himself lying on a roof that seemed only too familiar...and what looked suspiciously like a LEFPR in his face.

"Great." he grumbled in German as he spied the obvious cyborg attached to it. Well, maybe not obvious, exactly...what the heck was that thing? Yes, it was a cyborg, no doubt, but...first generation, maybe? Could be. He'd never seen anything other than thi-wait just one damned second, what was the thinking? ŠZBV freak was ŠZBV freak, no matter what kind, and that was bad by all definitions of the word.

Furthermore, since he was awake, it probably wanted to interrogate him. Fat chance. As soon as he got word out that the operation had failed, he'd bite down on his suicide tooth and that'd be that. Now if only he could reach the radio in his back pocket...

((Echo? ))

((Try the Up N' Away Burger. ))

Yeah, I see what you're saying. It's one of these "it's not what you did, but how you did it" situations. Had one of those happen with some friends of mine recently, so I hope it works out in the end somehow.

Ditto looks to be out for murder for that tutu. I'd watch out if I were you.

The sap indeed put up a fight, trying to twist in such a fashion that Solid would be the one kissing on the ground, but the mechanoid's electric fist quickly put and end to that. His uniform-armor may have been nonconductive, but that didn't mean it wasn't subject to dielectric breakdown. The Unteroffizier was out cold before his helmeted head even hit the ground.

Normally, his men would've interfered, but the near-simultaneous arrival of a hail of bullets (which their uniforms could thankfully take), a wave of energy, and all manner of other energetic blasts struck that from the get-go, sending feet to fly and pounding faces into pavement.

But before the last could pass out completely, he managed to bring his TRV-150 to bear one more time and loose a rocket from the launcher's maw.

It headed for the portal...

Whoever that someone ended up being, it wasn't one of the soldiers that had come out of the portal. The ones garbed in cobalt blue were busy running and shooting at a flying metahuman that was taking them down one at a time from range, even as they bolted for the portal, and the one living man in gray uniform wasn't in any shape to do anything right now...

Apparently, the soldiers below thought much along the same lines, for as Isabel moved out of line of sight, she may have been able to hear a pair of distinct shouts over the rocket's explosion across the street.

Not a few moments later, a trio of grenades sailed over the roof's edge, and though they of course didn't head directly at her, being grenades, they didn't really have to...

--------------------

"Da! Am Dach!" got the Unteroffizier's attention, even as the rocket's explosion across the street rocked the ground, the soldier who'd fired at Isabel pointing to where she'd disappeared from sight.

"Granaten." he commanded in a calm, stern fashion, and not moments later, three grenades went flying, flung to where they suspected her to be. The Unteroffizier grinned at the thought that said area would include a good portion of that roof, and again once the rocket's smoke had cleared enough for him to see the last rebel veritably obliterated.

That left only the one the teleporter had taken...maybe. The jumper had stabbed, then gassed the guy, so maybe he'd just wanted to wring his neck him with his own hands instead of letting them have the kill. Actually, now that he thought about it, that made a lot of sense - and if it was true, he'd done their work for them. The Unteroffizier cocked another unseen smirk at this.

However, said smile quickly vanished as another explosive blast came in, the six scrambling away too late, and getting thrown in all directions by the concussive detonation...

((Meant 'description' as in physical, not costume - like height, build, hair, eyes, stuff like that - but yes, a picture works fine too. ))

Yeah, right - at this moment, the soldier couldn't have cared less who or what the blonde guy was, much less whether he was supposed to be friend or foe. They were both under fire, so as the man leaped, he fired, trying to keep the enemy from picking them out of the air.

This attitude didn't change as they hit the ground again, though the gray-garbed man did wonder for a moment why this guy had chosen a mail box as cover - something tat armor-piercing bullets didn't even regard as an obstacle. Thankfully, his own gun kept the enemy down long enough for the blonde guy to do whatever he was doing, then grab him and leap off once more...

--------------------

Unfortunately, the girl ended up just about foiling Solid Shot's plan. The cryonic blast did indeed lock the left tread of the catamaran-like tank down, causing the vehicle to swerve in that direction, but not enough time passed before the girl's energy blasts undid this result with their attempts to destroy said tread. Thanks to the catamaran design, it stood sufficiently wide to stay together even under conditions that would've rent a standard chassis' tread to shreds.

Regrettably, if the mercenaries aboard couldn't restore the controls that the anti-personnel weapon had jammed, the vehicle was still going to hit whatever got in its way, and if that was a building it couldn't roll over or into, well that was that, pure and simple...

--------------------

The cobalt blue soldier who'd inquired of the Unteroffizier a few seconds before obeyed his order without question once he saw one of the clearly super-powered types snag one of the rebels from the ground and start leaping off. While he was confused as to what the point of first aiding in the killing of one of their number, then the next second saving another was (not to mention at what the hell the damn tank was doing as it roared by) this didn't stop him from firing.

Unfortunately, the gray soldier's return fire did.

More German flew around as the cobalt blue group was forced down a moment, bullets sparking from the concrete all about them, once more kicking fine dust into the air. However, this also allowed them an easy view of a certain heroine landing on a nearby rooftop and making a fist in their direction, at the end of an outstretched hand.

"Nicht mit uns." the soldier growled, having no need to leave full cover with respect to the other side of the street to take aim at her. He switched to single shot and lined his scope up in the manner of a bulk snipe, intending to pop her one right in the chest. Saving time by doing so, he pulled the trigger much sooner than she could loose her blast.

But even while one soldier fired from cover, another leaned the barrel of his TRV-150 over the edge of his own, using the angled-down screen of the rocket launcher's IR scope to get a lock on the blonde guy's destination without giving the gray-garbed man he carried a chance to shoot him.

Thus it occurred that as swordsman and soldier headed for the car wreck, a rocket roared toward the very same place at the very same time...

Aye, good read. Nicely thought out there.

However, though this might just be me here, it feels like it's rushing me along through his emotions, not really touching each with enough emphasis to fully convey the sensation. Your word choice is also a bit passive and repetitive, which may have something to do with that; not entirely sure. Other than that, the only thing is the paint. You're giving me an outline, but if I didn't already know what certain things and people looked like, I'd have no idea how to fill in what's appearing in this story.

Now, I don't mean like full, detailed descriptions, but more subtle things like, "The woman's deep-blue eyes gave a brief, nervous twitch the moment the Warmaster's monochromatic helmet turned its unblinking gaze at her fair-skinned face". Small details, scattered here and there - like strokes of a paint brush - I find make the best mental imagery, as it feeds the reader what you saw when writing the work bit by bit, as he or she follows your words.

Still, all in all very intriguing. Looking forward to more.

Hm, While I do ponder the merit of making a new thread for this every time...

Did You Just Punch Out Ctulhu: Acid Zero, Sage
Nanomachines: Acid Zero
Invisibility: Acid Zero
Artificial Limbs: Jade Blackwind
Arm Cannon: Jade Blackwind
Bottomless Magazines: Jade Blackwind
Swiss Army Appendage: Jade Blackwind
Cursed with Awesome: Jade Blackwind
Impossibly Cool Clothes: The Dark Dragon
Flaming Sword: Groul
Energy Blasts: Jade Blackwind
Kill It With Fire: Acid Zero, Groul
Who Wants to Live Forever: Acid Zero, Jade Blackwind
Older Than Dirt: Acid Zero
Limit Break: Ilar-Ilan Akeem
Glowing Eyes of Doom: Jade Blackwind
Technicolor Eyes: Jade Blackwind
Pure Energy: Acid Zero, Arek, Sage
Frickin Laser Beams: Acid Zero, Arek
Evil Is Sexy: Acid Zero
Our Dragons Are Different: The Dark Dragon, Groul, Arek, Jade Blackwind
Color Coded For Your Convenience: Acid Zero, Sage
Magnificent [censored]: Acid Zero
Karma Houdini: Acid Zero, Ilar-Ilan Akeem, Sage
Good Is Boring: Acid Zero
Teleporter: Acid Zero, The Dark Dragon, Groul, Arek
Anti Villain: Acid Zero
For Science: Acid Zero
Determinator: The Dark Dragon
Screw Destiny: Acid Zero
One-Winged Angel: Ilar-Ilan Akeem
More Teeth Than The Osmond Family: Acid Zero, Ilar-Ilan Akeem

*falls over*

No more...

((Yeah, maybe a description of her as more than 'a girl' would be nice then. Also, quick note: the gray guys are the ones running for the portal; not the blue ones. Also, they're on the street, not in a warehouse. ))

--------------------

Generally, jumping directly into a hail of gunfire really wasn't a smart idea, and tended to end one's life quickly. Thankfully, Egregore didn't fit any definition of the word, but nevertheless it was somewhat doubtful that he wasn't in any way affected by the AP rounds going for the gray-garbed soldier he chose to jump next to, considering all three of them were at this moment under fire from those in cobalt blue, sitting behind their concrete wall cover across the street.

Still, prodding someone with a Sapp Stick at point-blank range and dropping a gas canister were actions that even getting knocked around wouldn't stop, and thus the soldier crumpled twitchingly to the ground...where he was promptly shot by those from across the street, thanks to Egregore now being a stationary target instead of a mobile one, and thus exponentially easier to hit.

In fact, the only 'good' aspect of attacking a man being fired upon like this was that a good bit of said fire went over him in the process of the soldier hitting pavement. Still, he'd been hit; badly, and if Egregore couldn't either defend or get him out of there in the next few instants, he was no doubt dead meat.

Much the same fate caught the remaining two gray-garbed soldiers running for the portal as well, a suddenly arrived explosive blast sending them flying, and one of them losing his leg in the process, thanks to a certain blonde man also jumping (though this time with a leap instead of a 'port) right into 'gunfire alley', and having enough defensive capability to succeed in his strike. Of course, whether his regeneration and sword could save him from what was of course a near-continuous hail of AP rounds, well that was another question entirely.

As for the soldier whose leg he'd taken, said man landed roughly on the asphalt, roaring his pain out into the air. it didn't last long. He dragged his bleeding stump along for all of two seconds before the fire from across the street ended his scream with the silence of death.

But of course, misery loves company, the explosive blast having knocked the one remaining man with the physical ability to run to the street as well. His eyes went wide as he heard the characteristic sounds of bullets against asphalt, getting closer by the instant. Indeed, the trail closed with his scrambling form extremely rapidly, and if no one intervened, he had less than a second to live...

--------------------

Across the street, the Unteroffizier that had taken charge after the Oberst's death mustered the scene curiously; as did his remaining men.

"Sir, sie greifen die Rebellen an." one of them told him, "Vielleicht hat der Reichsmann es nicht geschafft. Sollen wir Feuer einstellen?"

"Nein." the Unteroffizier ordered coldly, "Wir können es nicht riskieren. Tötet sie alle."

And they kept firing...

((See latter part of last sentence of my previous post. Also edited to adjust for misunderstood power of Rebel's character. ))

Even from above, there wasn't much clarity to be gained - only perspective. Gray and blue alike had lost most of their number, the former now making a break back toward the portal, for the latter force had veered off to the south there, having initially followed their tank - of course, by now they'd acquired more conventional cover, but the vehicle's original course still dictated their current placement - and heroes and villains alike were simply all over the place.

Solid Shot stood on a nearby roof, a pair of Horsemen of the Apocalypse were at the unmoving, catamaran-like tank (complete with the mangled wreckage of a once-fine silver Porsche beneath its treads), a costumed girl was on her way there as well, and the blonde man she'd left standing by the warehouse door without a word apparently still stood there.

As for the crossworld arrivals, all in all, there were about nine left alive: three of the soldiers that wore the distinct gray of Axis America forces, but were bereft of face mask, and six of the cobalt blue and more heavily armored kind, who in turn did don full cover below their blast goggles in the form of gas masks...

The Oberst never got the chance to follow and then lead Egregore's fall as per standard firing procedure, blasted back by a sudden wave of energy that came along the ground like some demented, pint-sized tsunami, just getting the chance to see his fellow soldier incinerated by a plasma bolt, unable to dodge due to the same wave that had caught the Oberst.

Of course, a second later he no longer had to worry about that, a sudden explosion of energy knocking him back yet again, and worse yet, putting him out in the open, making him an extremely appealing target for any soldier with even the slightest bit of common sense.

Two seconds later, his lifeless body hit the ground, perforated with at least three dozen AP rounds, courtesy of the enemy.

Verily, the gray-uniformed soldiers that had until now been more focused on running and finding cover, their armor lighter even by appearance than that of the cobalt blue, gasmask-toting forces, went even further than that. They took the opportunity and mounted a counterattack at behest of their own commanding officer - who unfortunately received a barrage of AP rounds to the head as he made the mistake of being the first to jump out of cover.

Indeed, the numbers dwindled fast on both sides now, both forces swearing in German, some of the blue ones in Russian, and even a Czech curse or two seemed to be mixed in there somewhere...or was it Hungarian?

Spoken word aside, the tank's labeling at least was Russian, and the layout of its controls fairly common sense - although the interior looked decidedly complex and high-tech, even the 50 cal. operable from the inside - so assuming the Horsemen made it into the vehicle with enough of their marbles (or bodies) left to drive the thing, figuring out how was likely the least of their worries...

The Oberst swore when he saw the tank stop moving, thankfully far enough away by now that the psi bomb no longer reached him. A duo closer to the vehicle, however, wasn't so fortunate, the soldiers dropping dead like sticks from the mental munition.

"Oberst!" one of the soldiers covering the man Egregore had just assaulted exclaimed in shock as he hit the pavement from the force of the discharge, naturally opening immediate fire on the offending hero.

The Oberst in turn rolled about with a growl, turning his own mass driver at the guy who'd just given him one hell of a kink in his back, the armor in his uniform thankfully easily able to deal with something with such relatively little penetration power as a blast of buckshot. Assuming Egregore was still there of course, he very much wanted to know how the guy stood up to a burst of AP rounds...

((Yes. Yes they should be. ))

[ QUOTE ]
He crouched, then jumped straight up for about twenty meters where he hung suspended in the air for a moment. In that moment, the sword shrunk considerably as the nanites repaired their masters bodily wounds, most of them anyways.


[/ QUOTE ]
And that was almost the end of him right then and there, the tank's heavy automatic having by then taken aim, the blonde man now more than far enough away from the vehicle for the 50 cal. to lock on and let loose. Fortunately for him, luck seemed on his side today - a missile from one of the gray-uniformed soldiers rocked the tank enough for the torrent of armor-piercing shells to go wide, sparing the man the fate of ending up full of rather sizeable holes.

[ QUOTE ]
By the time he started descending, the most serious wound he still had was a bullet hole in his left leg which was bleeding considerably. As he fell, he raised his sword high, aiming for the other man's head, attempting to cleave the soldier in two.

[/ QUOTE ]
Stunned by the impact, the soldier didn't stand a chance, his body going limp in the hatch.

[ QUOTE ]
And suddenly, atop the tank, Egregore 'ported into existence.

"Woah!" He said as "the man's" fire blade barely missed him in the hero's attempt to cleave the soldier in twain. "Watch it. Oh, and jump."
And with that last word, Egregore Device dropped a Vanguard Psi Bomb into the open tank hatch. And it would have been wise of the soldiers within to NOT underestimate the power of the explosive device-It was still extremely and fatally damaging to anything sentient. It just happened to be extra-effective versus psychic entities.

[/ QUOTE ]
The tank crew never even noticed the psi bomb, considering that it didn't actually make it into the tank. After all, there was something rather obvious blocking that hatch: a half-sliced soldier; and he made a rather effective barricade.

Of course, since the tank's armor wasn't designed to protect its passengers from a mental-based strike, the vehicle would probably be a non-factor as soon as the thing went.

The other cobalt soldiers, however, had bolted away from their tank as soon as they'd seen the missile come in, seeking cover elsewhere, and not really seeming to care too much about the return fire from the Horsemen. Those pads on their uniforms served as more than just a fashion statement, and while they weren't ZUBs, they could certainly take SMG fire.

And with their opponents apparently able to shrug off AP rounds from mass drivers, the Oberst didn't take long to order someone with a rocket launcher that he should take them out...

The blonde man's sword cleaved into and through the tank's armor like a hot knife through butter, eliciting an instant response in the form of a gasmask-garbled Russian curse cascade, its volume so great is was quite audible before the man's blade had even described a semicircle.

Indeed, the tank crew was rather rapid on the uptake, the turret hatch sliding open to allow a cobalt-blue soldier to pop out with one hell of a scowl. He wasn't wearing the ballistic armor the infantry about donned for protection, but the helmet and mask were still decidedly there, and even the thinner uniform looked like it could at least take a bullet.

Which was exactly what the man was attempting to find out about the swordsman atop their tank, with both hands unloading a PZ-5P mass driver at the guy, trying to either waste him then and there or at least drive him off the tank, where the vehicle's 50 cal. could take a bead on him.

That was, if a stray shell from the shootout all around didn't get the blonde man first...

The catamaran-like tank rumbled back into motion now, taking up pursuit of the gray-uniformed rebels that had decided to get uppity and counterattack instead of being smart and turning tail. Then again, with what they expected to find in this world, it may well have been their pursuers who were the dumb ones for sticking around.

In either case, the vehicle blasted a shell at the low wall of a parking lot across the street, sending a burning car careening through the air and into the greenery of Gemini Park, a few of Dr. Vahzilok's minions quickly making themselves thin as the place turned into a warzone. After all, explosions like that tended to not leave body parts large enough to stitch back together into anything useful...