Slate was busy swimming in visions of his female tormentor in varying degrees of mutilation, when the pressure from the knife in his side suddenly dissappeared. Forcing his eyes open, Slate found himself staring at the soldier, her face mere inches from his, her expression one of intense interest.
"You REALLY wanted to kill me, didn't you?" she stated more than asked.
"What do you mean by 'wanted'," Slate growled at her. She merely smiled at this, backing up a few steps.
"Very well," she said, "you want me that bad, come and get me." She tapped on the door and the chains holding Slate upright went slack, dropping him onto the floor. Unlooping the chains from his arms, Slate painfully began pushing himself up from the floor. With his healing abilities currently on the fritz his legs felt like wood. His hands ached from going without circulation for so long and the slice in his side was still bleeding.
However, the chance to get away, no matter how slim, was enough to get him moving. The woman waited until he was half way up, before removing her jacket and gloves and striding towards him. Slate's movements felt sluggish and clumsy as he pulled himself up, trying to catch her by surprise with a quick hook to her jaw.
The woman was skilled, however, and the hours of abuse had taken their toll on Davis Slate. She dodged the attack easily, grabbing his arm and delivering a kick to his gut, the heavy combat boots she wore adding weight to the blow. Using his arm as leverage, she pushed him to his knees, driving her elbow into the back of his neck.
Slate collapsed to the floor, grabbing her leg as he fell and throwing it upward, sending her falling back. He managed to roll away, pulling himself up just as she regained her feet. His vision swam in front of him as he tried to track her movements.
He knew he wasn't going to win by superior technique, Slate had always been more of a brawler than a martial artist, and he was having enough trouble staying on his feet after the punishment he took. He suddenly jumped straight at her. She hit him hard across the jaw, but he allowed his greater weight to carry him forward, slamming her against the wall.
Pressing his forearm against her throat, Slate kept her pinned to the wall, not allowing her enough room to manuver out. His teeth ground slightly as he pressed harder and harder into her neck, watching her expression as he cut off her air. The door suddenly flew open and two guards ran into the room. Dropping the choking woman, Slate ignored the pain wracking his body and laid into the two soldiers. He got lucky, catching them by surprise with his ferocity, and they were soon both lying on the floor.
Turning back, Slate suddenly noticed that the woman was not where he had left her. Glancing over, he saw her through another doorway on the other side of the room. He ran towards her, but she casually closed the heavy door, smiling as it closed. Slate turned from the door, looking through the window on the left where officers probably viewed interragations. He slammed against it several times, but the bullet proof glass wouldn't give.
The sound of guards from the hall made him turn. He didn't have time for revenge right now. Turning back to the woman, he leaned forward. Staring darkly at her as she stood behind the window, smirking. "I'll be back for you," he growled at her slowly, before turning and running out the door. She wouldn't have heard him through the glass, but he was pretty sure she got the jist of his meaning.
He ducked into a side corridor as guards ran past towards the room. The adrenaline that had kept him going was starting to wear off and his legs were giving out on him. Stumbling further down the hall, he found a supply closet that looked reasonably out of the way. Slipping inside, he pulled himself behind a stack of boxes, finally falling to the floor and slipping into unconciousness.
Back in the observation room, the female soldier's grin widened slightly. "All according to plan," she smirked.
(ooc:Kyle Helsing is a blaster and tanker{two different character with simalar name}. He wears black cargo pants, a blue shirt, a black un-buttoned overshirt, a pair of blue Van's Old Schools, blue circular glasses. He is a caucasion, with blue eyes, brown hair{very untidy}. When he concentrates his powers, he sethes blue flames.)
Helsing awoke, strapped down to a strecher. He was being wheeled along by a War-Wolfe. He closed his eyes, trying to still look unconsious. After a while, he was dumped into a cell. The wolfe was closing the barred door, when Helsing leaped torwards the bars. He grabbed the wolfe's head and repeatedly slammed it into the bars, untill it burst into a crimson cloud. He dropped the corpse and strolled out of his cell, only to be met with a powerfully-delivered rifle but to the jaw.
He awoke a steel walled cell, with no exit. "Well, at least they're trying...."
Cowman : The woman tormenting Slate was a high-ranking 5th Column captain. She was a sadist and utterly devoid of empathy for fellow human beings. Little did she know, however, there was a spy inside the 5th Column's secret facility and only one agency had managed to pull it off. Seated outside the facility's compound in the back of an unmarked van, TK listened to the various bugs in place in the facility with intrigue. Something chaotic was going down tonight, and the event showed no signs of slowing down. TK's only concern was that one of the bugs had been found by a random sweep of the facility. Now the 5th Column was hellbent on searching the prison until they were sure they had located every listening device. TK prayed she was able to find out what was going on before the devices were found.
Xaphan : The interrogator nodded his head. An odd smile rested on his lips. "You lie, sir," he spoke plainly. "A nanobot can hardly hold the amount of memory it would require to give you your powers and also destroy the chemical that is the source of your powers. It is either one or the other." The man pressed his finger firmly into the red button and held it for several seconds. The clamp crushed down on Piyerus' fingers with a horrific amount of pressure. It was maddening how much pain it caused. And yet, as quickly as it came it was gone. The interrogator straightened his posture and signaled for the guards to come join him. "Take this man to the Lab. He contains a chemical inside him that must be found, cultured, and synthesized."
Philbe : Lt. Ovilo stayed by the commander's side as he prepared to inspect the facility. She assumed the man would tire of her presence as he did with most everyone, so she tactfully decided to bring up another issue besides the issue of the nanobots. "Sir," she said, "we found a listening device inside the facility today. We believe we have a spy within our ranks. I don't mean to present you with problems, sir. So, I think I have an answer to the source of the dilemma." Lt. Ovilo cleared her throat before speaking again. "For quite sometime now motion detectors have been going off within the facility in deserted hallways. Survelliance footage shows nothing on the screen. So, I had a thermal camera installed at several locations. The image of a man could clearly be seen. Apparently, this unknown individual has a cloaking device of some sort and he enters the compound every other day at 7pm to retrieve and collect data. Somone in the 5th Column is letting him into our facility. If this unknown man maintains his schedule, he will return to the prison in exactly 30minutes. This is perfect timing considering the fact you're now heading to the compound, sir."
ItheAwittN1 : The sound of footsteps echoed past Helsing's cell, but no one was there. The sound of breathing and fabric rubbing against fabric could be heard as well, but still... no one was there. No doubt, Helsing might think he was hearing things, but when a voice asked him, "what is your name and how long have you been here?" Helsing knew for sure there was someone standing in front of his cell. The man, however, could not be seen.
The Commandant continued his steady pace.
"The existence of a mole only is to our advantage. If you do not have enemies, you are not doing your work correctly. We will observe those who are observing us. But more importantly we need to have a discussion with our methods with these guests. Mindless violence does not promote our cause. I realize that some of our people may be a bit, enthusiastic, but we must transcend beyond our baser instincts."
"Make sure that it is understood that I will not tolerate any extreme measures of force. Broken and bleeding only puts us on the same terrain as these animals."
(ooc: who wants to meet with the Commandant?)
"Let's see if they're fast enough to stop me before I can shove a handful of caltrops down your pants."
A slight laugh came from the cyborg as his more human part found the comment entertaining. It was a momentary break from his otherwise cold personality.
Calash began to walk toward the commander and the other heroes who were talking to one of the captured enemies. His uniform, though covered in a web like restraining device, was decorated identifying him as the leader.
A faint sparkle attracted his attention, a small pouch attached to one of the solders had opened during the battle. Scattered on the ground were several small darts. Calash picked one up and looked at it for a moment before continuing to the commander. He then bent down and held the dart infont of his face.
There is a 100% positive match with this dart and one that struck me. I require a explanation.
The response was more of his colorful germen followed by him spitting on the cyborgs chest. Calash was quick to respond, wrapping the fingers of his robotic arm around the commanders neck with a vice like grip, cutting off most of his ability to breath.
I require an explanation.
The voice had more anger in it this time as he held the commander by his neck.
"I require an explanation," the armor-encased hero said, holding the 5th Column commander by the throat. The man's feet kicked feebly several inches off the ground.
Patriot Strike stood up from her squat, glaring at the robot. The creature sounded almost...angry. Perhaps it was some sort of cyborg? Either that, or one of the most advanced artificial intelligences in the world. Regardless, she was not used to having scumbags snatched out from under her. She was also a bit irked that the cyborg had torn through her webbing like it was tissue paper.
The commander's face was bright red, and his kicks had slowed to twitches. Strike whistled sharply, but the cyborg was entirely focussed on the nazi scumbag.
"Listen, Coppertop," she said, waving at the robot, "if you keep that up, you're going to kill him. And then we'll just be a bunch of chumps in a filthy alley."
OOC: I guess its about time I explain some of Piyeruss stats. He is a science Fire/Devices blaster. He is currently the weakest character in this RP, but for the purposes of character development his powers will continue to grow at an exponential rate. He has pointed ears (one of the side effects of the chemical that gives him his powers) and spiked red hair. He usually wears dark Red and Black medieval style armor and shoulder guards. His forearms are wrapped in bandages (for reasons that will be explained later on). He also wears baggy pants and folded leather boots.
A group of guards escorted Piyerus down the hall towards the labs. They didnt want to sedate him because the lab work would go faster if he was awake, and the guards didnt necessarily want to haul another unconscious hero around the lab. Piyerus kept looking strait ahead, knowing that if he tried anything hed get into more trouble than hes already in. There were two guards in front of him, one on each side, and what sounded like three behind. Hed have no chance in a fight if he tried to escape, and the ones behind him probably had their guns to his back. If only he had more power, if his abilities had manifested themselves faster... he could easily take care of the situation. But for the moment, all he could do was go along with his captors wishes.
The lab was amazingly clean and well organized, though Piyerus could see a few drops of blood occasionally. One of the guards motioned for him to lay down on the table. At first Piyerus refused, but the guard pointed his gun right at Piyeruss face. He had no choice but to do what he was told. Another guard hooked metal restraints onto Piyerus which prevented him from moving. He noticed that the restraints were normal, and he still had the ability to use his powers, although in the situation they did him little good. The scientists probably needed him at his full ability for whatever they were planning.
Helsing was startled by the voice. "What is your name and how long have you been here?" it asked again. "Why do I need to tell you, you know, if you already have my documents? They are missing from my wallet, along with my 20 bucks. And if you know what is good for you you'd just give up and shoot yourselves, but I doubt you want to make it that easy. So is it gonna tourture, or execution?" Helsing spoke. "Sarcasism will not get you out any quicker, so I suggest you tell us your name and how long you have been here." It said in a solemn tone. "Kyle Helsing, and I have no idea..."
(ooc: Found a not bad picture for reference. http://www.necrotania.com/Download/Calash.gif )
Calash turned to look at Patriot Strike. He paused for a moment as if contemplating what she said and then released his grip on the commanders neck.
You are correct. I sho
.
He stopped talking as he tried to pull his hand back. The webbing wrapped around his wrist binding to his hand. The whirring sound of the motors in his arm got louder as he tried to work his hand out of the trap. For several moments he struggled against the webbing until a couple of strands broke away and set him free, and tumbling backwards onto the ground.
For a moment Calash just laid there as if stunned. He then quickly climbed to his feet and approached Patriot Strike and Shadowborn, holding the dart in his hand.
This dart matches a dart that was shot at me a while ago. It contains a powerful tranquilizer. This is a deviation from the 5th columns standard tactics.
Calash turned to look at the commander before continuing.
He must have the information I require.
((OOC: That was nice of you Calash, but I'm aware that Strike's webbing is pretty wimpy. I was IC-irked, not OOC-irked -- I'm actually playing Strike as not-so-powerful, just kind of tactical, and lucky in avoiding death. So it's appreciated, but no need to fall down 
))
Davis Slate slowly regained consiousness, and immediatly wished that he hadn't. It felt like every inch of him hurt, and it was only worse when he moved. But move he did, for he knew he wouldn't remain undetected for long and he had to find a way out. Looking down at his side, Slate checked to see if the wound in his side had stopped bleeding.
He was shocked when he found that, not only had it stopped, it was almost gone. Now that he thought about it, he could feel that old familiar tingle as his body stitched itself back together. Having his healing abilities back, even if they still weren't as strong as they should be, gave Slate a new boost of confidence. His outlook on his future had been pretty bleek, but now he had hope of actually escaping alive.
In another room, the woman who had interragated Slate was studying a group of computer monitors as read-outs flashed across their screens.
"So," she asked one of the technicians, "what can you tell me?"
"Well ma'am," he answered, "the analyzer chip you slipped into the wound on his side is working perfectly and it is clear that his abilities are not natural."
"You mean he wasn't born with them," she clarified.
"Exactly. We estimate that he's only about half strength right now, but it's enough to tell that his abilities were introduced later."
The woman nodded, "Anything else?"
"Well," the technician pointed to a monitor, "you can see here that there seems to have been some brain surgery done. Several masses seem to have been attached at the base of his brain. You can see the synapses in this area are firing at an incredible rate."
"And what about the gloves," the woman asked, referring to Slate's large metal gauntlets.
"There's definite signs of Rikti technology," he said.
"Of course there is," the woman scoffed, "the stuff's everywhere."
"No ma'am," the man continued, "this is pure Rikti tech, no human job, I can tell you that. That's why we've only made a cursory glance at them. None of us are really qualified for untouched Rikti tech. We've sent a call to command for Dr. Shtuffen. He's the best man we've got on the Rikti."
The woman nodded. Now she just had to decide what to do with this Davis Slate. Recapturing him would likely require them to almost kill him again, but on the other hand, they couldn't have some "hero" running around their base. She knew that the Commandant had wanted to forego violence in this operation, but in the case of Slate it had been nessesary. He was a soldier, and violence was his language. She knew this, she was a soldier herself. It was the way soldiers were.
/ooc I'm still here, I'm simply waiting for someone else to amke a plot twist that effects me, Like, say, Davis finding and freeing me, or something, but until then, I'm just an observer. We are doing good, though, people.
Helsing sat there looking into space. "Are you still here? Hello?" There was no answer. Helsing grabbed the rim of his glasses and appeared to be ajdusting them. In accuality, he was switching his glasses to UV scan. He saw that what ever was in here before had left. He switched back to standard view and started circling the room knocking on the walls. A loud ringging reverberating through the room. "There we go," he mumbled. He took a few steps back and kicked, putting his wieght into it. The door few off its hinges and hit an unsepecting guard. Helsing walked out and picked up the guard's rifle. "Great, another 'all-in-one' rifle. Doesn't anyone carry a regular pistol anymore?" He walked down the hallway, gun in tow...
After a hard day in Steel Canyon, fighting some outcasts, Experiment 2.0 decided to have a little rest, so he went into a back alley and changed into a civilian costume. He walked out, and saw a purse being snatched by, would you guess, a Lead Shocker. He then said "Oh boy, more outcast... might as well change..." he stopped when he looked down, and he saw some kind of white bag. He checked in it and found a remarkable amount of weapons. He looked carefully, but he was stopped by a scream that shook him from the investigation. The lady had been pushed down and the shocker started to fly off with the purse. He changed back into his hero costume and flew right after the shocker. After he used Air Superiority to knock down the shocker, he started to stab him with his spines. After the shocker dropped because of the poison, he picked him up, and flew to a police drone. "Cya man, have a nice jail time, and I will be taking that." and experiment dropped the shocker after grabbing the purse. Once he gave it back to the woman, he remembered the weapons, and went straight back. They had disappeared, except for one rifle. it had the Fifth Coloumn insignia, and inside was... a dart? "Strange, Fifth Coloumn dont knock out normally..." but before he could investigate more, he felt a pain in he side. He looked and saw a dart through all the blur... that resembled the dart from the rifle. He fell to the ground after that...
Shadowborn looked between the other two heroes. "Who cares if he kills him." She said casually. "Obviously he is not going to talk. He is of no use to us, therefore there is no reason to continue allowing him to live." She allowed her dark power to pool in a shadowed circle around her feet. "I would like his soul when you are done though."
She turned so her back was to the Fifth Column and winked at Patriot Strike.
"The demons of the Netherworld are always hungry, and I'm sure they can torment his soul for the information you require." Her green eyes glimmered with her amusement.
After awaking, finding his super-suit had powered down, he tried to remember what happened... He was simply checking a bag, when he helped someone... when he got back, there was a rifle with a dart, and the same dart had hit his side, then.... he had been here in shackles that seemed to stop his spines, and even his dark shield... He lnew he had to get out, and the only way to do that, was either wait until they let him out to move him, or wait until he is rescued, but the rescue was too far away, so he decided to wait till he was moved.
Shadowborn disposed of her final target, dropping him with a sharp jab to the jaw. She turned to listen to the conversation, shrugging her shoulders to resettle her armor. Flickers of dark magic scattered across her armor, sinking into the black metal.
"They're pretty good, aren't they?" Patriot Strike snarled. "Let's see if they're fast enough to stop me before I can shove a handful of caltrops down your pants."
Shadowborn shrugged again, a wicked smirk teasing the corners of her lips. "Caltrops is a good idea. Then we can toss him in a vat of salt." She murmured.
She leaned against the wall of the alley, listening quietly, her arms folded. "If he doesn't answer you, I can drain his life from him, bit by bit. If that would help." Shadowborn commented idly.