Other Worlds: V 2.0

[initiates]

Date & Time: May 21st, beginning at 0900.
Location: The Initiative Hold and all throughout Elmer's world
Characters: Anyone participating in the fighting, anyone staying behind.
Summary: Elmer's world is fought for and lost.
Warnings: Violence, death.

They reopen the portal at 0900, May 21st. The first scientist who stepped through was killed within thirty seconds; the rest who followed made it back through to Exsilium, albeit not unscathed. The portal was shut again by a panicked operator, although a second operator knew to keep the coordinates locked.

Within ten minutes, the alert had been sent out. There's no time to wait for the Transports to gather en masse; as soon as they have a sizable enough force to stand a chance at fighting through and clearing their gateway's location, the door is opened again.

Immediately inside the door is a desolate, grim scene. What had previously been the coast of Japan is now scorched earth, blasted sand, and little else. As the first point of contact for this world, it has undoubtedly suffered the worst. Here, the UE didn't stop at governments, financial centers, and capitols — the UE destroyed everything in sight. There are enough UE soldiers remaining in the broken country to give the Transports a difficult battle, although by now the bulk of their forces have moved on.

The Initiative will soon realize the necessity of opening more gateways, just as the UE had done. Transports will be deployed to London, Berlin, Paris, DC Washington, Moscow, Beijing, New York City, Hong Kong, Madrid. Through each of these windows, the destruction is staggering. Buildings are more husks than structures, everything that can burn is alight, and the death toll is off the charts. Blackened bodies seem to line every street, while pieces litter the ground among the rubble. There's no doubt that the UE has no need of the people of this world. They're after resources only, and anything and anyone already here is to be removed.

You can find UE soldiers everywhere. They move in coordinated squadrons of 20, and each of them carries a small arsenal. Even without their incredibly advanced and destructive weaponry, they're fearfully formidable. Each soldier, while still only human, is a genetically perfect clone, further enhanced by technological implants. They're all highly trained in physical combat. Even if you can disarm one of them, don't count on close-range attacks being any easier to handle. They've brought along cannons, small flying craft, and lightweight tanks. Each of these is the top of the line in terms of technology, geared toward destroying as much as it can, as quickly as it can. The United Earth is here to destroy, and they won't stop to wonder why their targets go from being civilians and scrambling, off-guard, comparatively primitive militaries, to trained and powered Transports.

For anyone staying at home, they'll find that any Initiative presence has withdrawn fully to the Hold. All Initiative employees are needed, and most of them in the med bays. The majority of the Initiative focus is on recalling and resurrecting fallen Transports, but attention is still needed for the living-but-wounded. Any Transports who stay in Exsilium and offer their help will have it immediately accepted; they'll be put to work in the medical wings, runnings supplies, or simply set at a machine and told to keep an eye on the numbers: Transport vitals, UE movements, and maps upon maps of changing statistics and colors.

At 1500, the Initiative will recall all Transport soldiers back to Exsilium and seal shut the gateway. The UE numbers are too great, their soldiers too powerful, and Elmer's world is lost.

Comments

Barney Cahloun, OTA

[gordonowesmeabeer]

[0930]

Barney tumbled through the portal in New York to see storm troopers marching through the streets, buildings exploding, and people dying. The normally kind of steady, unflappable man had an air of unusual panic about him. He scrambled behind cover as he was met by a hail of gunfire, muttering (shouting, really) "No no no no no no no no not again!"

[1100]

A United Earth Patrol marching nervously down a side street suddenly came to a ragged halt when one of their men hit a trip wire. There was a moment of panicked shouting as they tried to get away before a hidden grenade blew up. Before the smoke had even cleared, Barney and a few other transports had popped up in ambush, trapping the Unite Earth troops in a very effective crossfire. With total surprise on their side, it was almost an even fight.

[1320]

Barney's voice came on over the radio. It was clear enough through the static, but there was also the sound of gunfire and explosions with him. "We're getting pushed back here at 5th and W! If I don't get some support pronto we'll have to abandon the entire north flank and fall back closer to the portal!"

[1450]

A UE hovertank had been crashed and emptied of enemy pilots. The tank was stuck, but the turret was still working, which Barney had commandeered. He was firing some kind of gattling laser at scattered United Earth soldiers, screaming a blue streak, and still slowly losing his position. The Portal back to Exsilium was just around the corner. Someone should probably drag him out of there before they get a heavy weapons team there to blow up his tank. This fight is lost

1320

[priad]

A voice responds over the radio, clearly inhuman in depth and volume. "Hold the line, I shall support."

With that, Priad starts off towards Barney's location, disengaging from the sodden mass he just made of the last UE platoon he encountered in New York, blood still sluicing from his armor, claw, and blade.

Med'an in CALL OF MEDAL OF HEROES BATTLEFIELD WARFIGHTER - Open!

[breakin_ur_lore]

[When the alarm had sounded, he'd gone to the Hold immediately. He knew he had two options - stay in the back as a healer, or fight in the front as a warrior. Perhaps it was brash of him to choose the latter, but the adrenaline had already started pumping and he knew that he needed to be out there to help. The hammer he had been given by the Initiative proved useful when he could get close to the soldiers, but they had the range advantage on him, and only his holy shield had stopped him from being riddled with bullets.

So now he huddles behind the wreckage of a school courtyard, hurling lightning and firebolts at the squadron of U.E. soldiers poking their heads out from their own cover across the way. ]

[eyecontact]

[there's a strange but of bobbing and flailing within the ranks Med'an has chosen to target – with one being thrown outright away from the shelter of a busted brick wall, unconscious. his gun soon joins him, discarded.

some misfire and unintelligible shouting, some flailing arms, and then silence from behind the wall.]

Meliantha: Open. Welcome to Japan.

[demonbloodblade]

[0915]

Meliantha is a commando. A fighter. While she's not very good with the gun she carries yet, she grabbed grenades. Hit and run attacks are the order of the day, and if someone follows her, that's fine; otherwise she doesn't care and she's doing her duty to herself and to the god she follows.

[1025]

She's heading towards the portal; this battle is lost, so she's going to redeploy to help somewhere else.

[1200]

Stumbling back through a portal, one arm torn apart and bleeding heavily, the scent of blood and sour milk in the air, looking for a medic to patch her up so she can get back in the fight, dammit...

[1345]

Curled up in a mostly-collapsed building in Hong Kong, trying not to cough, not sure what she can do right now. There's the corpse of a UE soldier there, most of his face obliterated by acid, but right now she's got a cut in her that she's afraid will let her guts out if she's not very, very careful...

[1455]

Crawling, slowly, painfully, towards the portal - barely able to move, holding herself together, close to it. And cursing.

1200

[devilsfruitdoctor]

[Ibin is right at the portal on the Initiative side, horrified but administering first aid as best he can.]

Here! Over here! [He's been alternating bandaging three minor wounds on different people; no fancy tricks, of course, but in the interest of expediency he's whipping his medi-medi bandages around and working so fast it looks almost like the bandages are applying themselves. When he sees the extent of Meliantha's injuries, he hastily finishes those off and turns his full attention to her.]

My god. [His hands are already busy with disinfectant and sterile pads even as he boggles.] I-- I'm so sorry, but this is going to hurt. Here, take these. [He hands her a painkiller while pouring on the disinfectant, but there's just too many wounded; he really has no time to wait for the medicine to kick in before he starts stitching.] Hold as still as you can. Feel free to yell as loud as you have to. [And pulling out a sterilized needle, he gets to work.]

[speakveryclearly]

A

She is an angel.

Kanaya has no idea what the Earth variety of angel is. She is not some peacefully singing maiden staying where she belongs in the afterlife. The white dress she wears is the color of death. An angel is a force of destruction, a hideous harbinger of the end. She's a sundrenched monstrosity. She leaves beams of light and trails of blood in her wake. Most of it, of course, is red. That's what humans do. Some is green. Meaning hers. It's alright. She has a little more of the stuff than anyone without horns, right?

At first the natural chainsaw is her default. Cutting people in half, or pushing a whirring blade through their heart, is such a reliable method of extermination. Later, though, that appears to be proven not such a sustainable strategic decision. On account of the sheer numbers, you know. Staying far away isn't safer (that would mean she was getting hurt and she's an exceptionally fortunate and attractive corpse, it doesn't matter) it's just a little more effective.

So she darts between shadows, regrettably trailing a little light (and blood). Even wounded - even with a couple of mildly gaping holes - she's still fast. She can pick out targets from a distance, use this method to foil otherwise guaranteed enemy plans and save transports. She's so glad she trained herself in the beautiful art of the headshot.

B

Finally though things are too much of a blur - she may or may not have been set on fire and sent back at some point, it would certainly explain the burns her clothes have sustained - but at some point things become clear again to Kanaya and they have to go back. And the bodies still around here, ones she recognizes or ones she doesn't... she has so little time but with her insane fastness attribute it should be more than enough. Being left behind in this hell is a worse scenario than going home, which she'd never thought she'd actually even think.

C

They patched her up. Implants, or something. She understood the science behind these things even less than the underlying politics. Mostly, she was sure things would be better later.

Maybe she'd get into the med-bays later, find out if there was anyone who would benefit from stitches or an amputation. Change into a nurse's uniform with less distracting blood patches. Her hand found a wet wound, slowly brought stained fingers to her lips. She was so fucking thirsty. That was what happened when you got this close to the less fun kind of death. The desire to make it fun again snuck up on you.

A

[satsujinki]

Midday. Sometime midday. Shiki couldn't exactly think. There was an order that they would have to draw out at some point, but Shiki had already become more reckless than he initially thought. Killing people--real, live people--was absolutely foreign to him. They bled and screamed like normal people. They struggled and tried to stop him as much as they could, running when they saw what he could do. They screamed and begged for mercy, questioning what he was and if he were even human. To them, he was more like a specter--a God of Death walking through them and leaving their death behind.

Advanced armor, cut to ribbons. Trained bodies, hardened to the point of superhuman stature--diced and bleeding like ripened, dripping fruit. Even their lasers stopped. He swung his knife and simply made the lasers 'vanish' as if they were never there. He walked into the center of that platoon and turned it into a world of blood. Everything he cut would die, whether it was even living or not.

He left the initial fight, like the dozen others in the day, ignoring the burning heat in his side. A round pierced him, threatening to drag him down. Despite his small frame, he withstood it. The pain wasn't death, yet. He'd been stabbed and torn apart, before. He could still fight. He would still fight. Despite his protests, the alternative was deplorable. He hated it. Shiki walked through that world of blood holding only a plain looking knife, his body splattered with blood. The corpses he left behind could only scarcely look as bad as he did. Blood ran down from the corners of his eyes, his irises emanating a bright light with only feral pupils behind them. If anything, he looked like a real-life monster.

open!

[onblackwings]

[ A ]
[ Well, there's no debate over which form she should use for a fight like this. She'd arrived at the Hold for equal parts curiosity and excitement (a real war, finally!), and as soon as she's through the gateway and into Hong Kong, she sheds the human shape for her true one.

She's having the time of her life now, really. She soars and twists between the tall buildings, latching onto one now and then to spring around and launch a renewed attack on some squadron or pursuing hovercraft. Many a man and machine is left sizzling in her wake, as she makes very liberal use of her acid breath. She uses magic readily and often, disguising herself, attacking, shielding. But even with all of her strength and power, she doesn't go unscathed. She bleeds from multiple places, and one leg dangles uselessly after a while.

She hardly feels the pain. That's for later consideration, now is the time to delightedly destroy. ]

[ B ]
[ With as reckless as she's been, it was really only a matter of time before the UE shot her down. A 35 foot black dragon is a large target, after all. She'd fallen heavily, struggled, breathed twice more before having the life shot out of her. And in thirty minutes, New York City is treated to a furious black dragon as she rushes back (missing her intended portal in her rage, but she doesn't even notice the difference).

She'll go down even more quickly this time. Rage clouds her wits, and she's still weak from the resurrection. She'll last a little longer on the third try, if only because the second went so poorly, and she's learned a little from it. The forth will be another short attempt, because that resurrection-exhaustion (not to mention the drain on her magic and endurance) is really starting to stack. The fifth, six, and seventh tries are acknowledged suicide runs.

Catch her resting just briefly, looking ragged and droopy, or witness some spectacular, explosive death and subsequent grim return. Just try not to team up with her at this point, because nearby allies probably don't have much of a life expectancy either. ]

[ C ]
[ After everything is said and done and the portal is closed, she won't even bother trying to hide herself. There'll be a black dragon sprawled out across the roof of the Housing, all four limbs, head, wings, and tail flat against the newly set concrete. She's alive and intact, but far too irritated to do any sleeping. Orange eyes glare at nothing in particular as she relives each battle and death.

Ugh. The UE. They're just terrible. ]

B

[draconic_historian]

Khisanth was not alone for the third attempt. A second dragon followed right on her tail through the portal and also took to the skies. But where the black dragon was a brutally graceful and furious predator, the red one was a cautious tactician and magical powerhouse.

Ricasthix fell a bit behind Khisanth, then started weaving spell after spell on both of them. Khisanth found glowing runes of protection starting to cover her scales, then time felt like it slowed down just a bit around her with everyone moving in slow motion, then confusion among the enemy ranks as they lost sight of her entirely.

Then they reached breath weapon range, and even Ricasthix put aside his sorcery to give in to the rage and fire in the blood of all dragons.

open!

[highhealplz]

[ It's a shame the United Earth troops aren't undead or demons, really. Ashraf would be having a field day. But he's also very good at his second job — keeping people alive — so that's what he focuses on. He moves along on foot, tossing out heals and fortifying spells to any Transport he encounters. Sometimes he doesn't even stop to say anything, just casts out that green healing light, a few spells to enhance speed and strength, and moves on.

If he encounters someone looking to be in particular trouble, he stays a little longer. As soon as he's completely healed all wounds from about twenty feet off, the next spell will find his Transport target bathed in a permanent golden glow, which reduces the strength by half of all blows directed at them. Sometimes he'll spare a magical item to encase his target in a solid beam of pinkish light, which will block all attacks on them for the next thirty seconds or so — provided they don't walk out of the light, of course.

As long as Ashraf is nearby and standing back, any fighters can expect to find themselves almost immortal. Excepting a one-shot kill, he'll immediately heal away any damage they receive, and boost all natural and Initiative-give abilities.

That is, as long as he's not being attacked. If he has to turn that healing attention on himself, odds suddenly drop pretty steeply. Be a pal and draw enemy fire away from him, won't you? ]

[obliterating]

[It had been weeks since he was able to turn his blades on something, and that mission hadn't been exactly satisfying.

But this, war, this is what he knows. It's what he trained for, in life, and the purpose for which he was created, in death.

His blades in his hands, etched with runes that glowed the same icy blue as his eyes, felt less like a tool of war and more a part of himself. He never named them, though some did. Byfrost, he knew, was the name of Koltira's blade. His blades never needed names.

Right now, those blades were being turned on the helmeted and masked forces that swarm around him. If only they were undead, he could make better use of them, turn them against each other.

Thassarian is pressing through the forces as best he can, and though he can guard himself with ice against some things, he's taken a few hits. Thick, nearly black ichor mats his hair, and he raises his swords to strike again. The soldier falls, and he turns, running toward-

There's pain shooting through him, and he nearly collapses. He closes his eyes for a moment, sight nearly gone for a moment. There was a flash of light, he had recognized that much, and something still Scourge within him turns, his eyes alight with cold fire as he searches for where it came from. Thassarian's wounds stitch together, but it's all but ignored against the burning pain in his veins.

Congratulations, Ashraf. You just healbombed a Death Knight.

Ashraf. He focuses on him, and tries to compose himself as best he can, though his first instinct is to chase him down and drive his sword through his chest.

Dull feeling is coming back to his limbs, and he stands fully. He almost turns away, but sees movement-]

Behind you!

[He reaches out, sending a blast of ice and air at the soldier, forcing his legs to start moving and running toward the priest.]

London - OTA

[alittlesweptup]

[A]
[Modern warfare may not be his forte, but there's no way he's going to sit out a fight. Not like this one, not when it's staged somewhere so like his own. Just being thrown into the streets of London is a surreal exercise: familiar streets, familiar skyline punctuated by debris and desolation. Hot smell of melted plastic and the chalky, heady burn of buildings and engine fluid and god only knows what else.

Not that there's time to take it in before finding a bit of cover. Once on the ground, Charlie scrambles to find a relatively protected vantage point.]

[B]
[Somehow over the course of the fight, Charlie's managed to outfit himself a little more appropriately for the situation. He makes his way through the streets armed with a UE weapon either from a soldier he managed to take down or from scavenging. He falls in and out with individuals or groups as it suits him and doesn't spend much time deliberating anything. Moves where it seems right, shoots toward the first UE troops he lays eyes on. It's overwhelming and this isn't anything like what he's used to fighting.]

[C - locked to whoever picks it up first]
[It's late in the day and things aren't exactly looking good. Not for London, not for the Transports, not for goddamn anyone. After hours of this, he's run more than a little ragged; dirt smudged and limping, Charlie bashes in what remains of the glass door of a chemist's shop and steps through into the dim, unlit interior of the shop.

Making his way through the aisles, he makes a beeline for the gauze and medical tape. He sits down right in the aisle, pulling up the leg of his trousers so he can put something over the patch of seared flesh on his calf. Which is where someone might find him: swearing up and down as he folds the gauze over and fights with the medical tape.]

hey hey you taking c

[motherofnemesis]

[ London has been her third stop - she's exhausted and dirty but so far she's not gained any new wounds. So far. She's not really crossing her fingers for that lasting long, given how badly things are going.

The chemist's shop catches her attention from across the road as she crosses from one battle in search of the next one. There could be something in there that might be useful in continuing to wreak as much havoc as possible, and it wouldn't hurt to have some bandages and painkillers on her in the event she or someone she's working with needs them.

The swearing catches her attention next, empathy about as useful to her right now as a missing limb with how much stress has been put on it. She follows it to it's source and then she's moving a little faster to kneel beside him, face somewhere between a grimace and a totally unimpressed expression. ]

Looks like you don't even need a sewer. How bad?

open

[charming_jerk]

[0900: Nothing perpares Johnny for the destruction that's overcome his hometown. The ruination of New York before him stops him in his tracks almost immediately, as a panicked thought crosses his mind: what if he and this Elmer guy were from the same world? He came from 2012 though, not 2002, but this was no time to puzzle out temporal problems. It was time to take down as many UE soldiers as he can. He hefts his weapon from over his shoulder, and speaks to everyone within earshot.]

Let's get these motherfuckers.

[1120: Johnny's way too far in over his head, and like most Transport, isn't equipped to deal with the UE forces. Clearly severly injuried, Johnny tried to ignore it and push on. But the half-demon is bleeding in several places, gunshot wounds all over. Leaning on his maul and panting hard, he's eying up some UE soldiers that have been spotted a few dozen yards away, turning past some wreckage. Johnny let's out a low, gutteral sound, almost a growl, before he starts after them slowly, dragging his weapon along.]

Sort of intermediate between your starters - 1030 temporally perhaps

[speakveryclearly]

[In a sick way the teenager who found herself part of Johnny's troupe looks like a refugee from an alien Christmas party gone horribly wrong. Her white dress is thoroughly stained both with bright red blood in splatters - that of her enemies - and deep green in round patches... her own. (Here is where she will learn a ranged weapon is safer.) This motley melee mob's method is clearly well-suited to her chainsaw, which is essentially crimson at this point. She's been able to gather that Johnny is a good leader in this Earth location, and so after the first wave they encountered is dispatched, she looks to him for guidance.]

Where to next?

open

[gevurah]

[ She gears up quickly as soon as she's heard the distress call, a horrible feeling in her stomach.

It's worse than she imagines.

The smell of smoke, flesh, copper -- it's the smell of war. A war none of them are prepared for. This had been her fear since her unwilling arrival and now this only solidifies the fact. The UE soldiers are coordinated, with a plan, and her side is scrambled all over the place. Desperation is heavy in the air. ]

a )

[ There's no time to stand around in silent horror, so she quells her intense feelings for now, putting them to better use. A burning adrenaline courses through her like she's never felt before and she begins her own assault on any and all soldiers she can get her hands on. Executing well-timed kicks and punches left and right, she takes down any soldier without holding back. Hopefully her training has paid off -- she'll need every ounce of her strength with the amount of soldiers pouring out from every corner. ]

b )

[ It's becoming more and more apparent that no matter how many arms, legs, and jaws she breaks, the soldiers practically spawn back in greater numbers. She hears the clicking of the guns before she can get a visual on it and she bolts behind an overturned car, bullets ricocheting everywhere. She feels one whiz past her shoulder, just barely missing her.

She needs to get to higher ground and fast. Just as her grappling hook extends, a soldier barrels himself into her, knocking the wind out of her. There's a struggle as she manages to get herself upright, but she needs to get this bastard off. He hangs on tightly, extending his hand for a knife he's armed with. The heel of her boot slams directly onto his face and blood and pain obscures his vision.

And then something clinks nearby and her head jerks up to see a grenade. She leaps away quickly and runs, but the explosion knocks her away and possibly into another Transport who's happened upon her at the wrong time. ]

closed for gilbert nightray

[gevurah]

[ jesus christ my everything. tba!! ]

Jim Raynor, OTA

[goinbust]

[The Hold]

Jim runs in and runs for the high powered sniper rifles, grabbing one and stowing several drums of ammo in his armor's hoppers. Fastening his normal rifle to his back and his pistol to the side he starts out.

"Damn... Too much like home. Anyone needs cover fire ping me, I've got my helmet ready to go."

[Washington DC - Late Morning]

The place was a mess, Jim had all ready realized it was less of a rescue operation and more to at least hurt the enemy. He had directed a very few people to safety and had a bag of salvage he grabbed as a diversion/to take back but was hiding in the rubble of what used to be the greatest men's room in all of the world, siting as many goons as he could from his vantage point of the building across the street form the Capitol building. When he can he'll simple scope in and start aiming at the heads of clone troops but it won't be forever he's unnoticed.

[Afternoon]

Well one can't snipe forever, still having about a third of his ammo left, the heat got too much and he's switched to his rifle, taking a fighting retreat back to the rally point.

"This is Jim Raynor of Raynor's Raiders. Need back up, picked a fight with a few more than I should have and don't know how much longer cover will last. Repeat! Need back... SON OF A!" The rest is lost to auto-cannon fire.

afternoon!

[fantasticforcefields]

Sue has no idea who "Raynor's Raiders" might be, but the hail of fire she hears simultaneously over the radio and half a block down the ruined street lets her know where said Raider is.

The UE hasn't yet fielded anything that can get through her shields, but just in case, she makes herself invisible and floats up behind the attackers, riding one of her force fields. Tactics isn't her strong suit, but you can't be friends with Captain America as long as she has without picking up a few things, and she can figure out where they're trying to shoot, at least, confirmed when Jim pops up for a second to return fire.

After nearly six hours of this nonsense, Sue's had enough, and rather than any kind of finesse, she just sweeps a huge force field rapidly across the street, crushing the Masked and their...what is that thing? Small tank? Big armored car? against a building along with all the rubble that had been lying in the road.

"Mr. Raynor?" Hey, she's polite. She's also forgotten she's invisible.

open!!

[preyed]

[Finally, some action. And not too soon, either. Vera puts on what little armor she can spare and arms herself with her warhammer, bow, and blade, flinging herself through the portal the moment she gets to it.

The carnage on the other side isn't wholly unexpected. But the technology is a little overwhelming. The buildings are decimated, people are dead or screaming their last vestiges of life out, and she looks past all of it. She has to. And when she spots the enemy, she rushes into the fray.


A)

Vera is equipped enough to manage dragons. She is not, however, capable of piercing the armor of her foes with her arrows, regardless of their strength. They taste her blade and fall, one by one, but every time she cleaves one in two...there are at least three to take its place. The battle is a losing one.

As a tank rolls around nearby, she spots the soldiers flanking it and rears her head back. A resounding FUS RO DAH can be heard echoing throughout the streets, shaking buildings, and the tank flies up and over, smashing into its allies. It's a costly mistake as one of them shoots near her, the explosion behind her sending her flying back with shrapnel injuries.

Spitting out her disdain, she gets back up. She always does. And when she can, she Shouts as often as she's capable.

B)

The return is neither pleasant nor easy. Vera stumbles through the returning portal with enough injuries to kill lesser people, but she's a good enough healer that many of the old ones have covered up. Still, she's covered in blood and ash, a disgusting mess, and she goes to find a place to sit and...recover, she supposes.

She refuses help from any of the medics. All wounds heal. She just needs some time. But she doesn't seem to be all there, mind spinning with the sight and sounds of battle she just witnessed.]

a

[gevurah]

[ Dispatching one flank had taken some time, but it's done and Kate has to move along before more soldiers make their way to the scene. However, before she can get down the damaged street an explosion rocks the ground beneath her feet and from a distance she hears something heavy explode and windows shattering.

After a dizzying moment, she locates the source of the noise not too far off from where she is and spots Vera. Incoming woman with a mask and cape, Vera. ]

Are you alright?

open

[keep_smiling]

[1100: A body washes ashore in Japan, like many others, in tattered and bloddy clothes. This one, however, doesn't stay down long. There's some loud coughing as the water forces its way out of Elmer's lungs, and he gasps for air, looking around wildly. He gets to his feet and starts searching for others, calling out "hello?" periodically, and surveying the damage. Elmer was still on the cruise ship when the UE hit - he has no idea what's been happening elsewhere.]

[1300: Elmer's not going to stay down no matter how many times the UE shoots him or blows him up. However, Elmer couldn't fight his way out of a wet paper bag, so he's not quite sure what else to do other than jump in the way of danger for the Initiative fighters. Just when you think you're about to get gunned down, your smiling blonde savior bum rushes you out of the way and is riddled with bullets instead. Now's your chance to fight back.]

1300

[immortal_smoke]

[It isn't hard for Mokou to recognize someone like her. The next time Elmer regains consciousness after being slaughtered, he's slung over someone's shoulder and being carried towards comparitive safety.]

You seem to be taking your death fairly well.

Open!

[flightybookshrew]

A: Rose thought she knew what something awful could look like. She'd seen the aftermath of the war on the Battlefield back in Sburb, and that had seemed terrible, but stepping through the portal here was enough to make her realize just what a real war could be. Part of her wanted to run away, run back through to the city where it was far safer, but she knew she couldn't. She had the means to fight back, the machine had given her the Thorns when she had arrived, and who was she not to use them? Because she was afraid of them?

And use them she did. More so than she had on any other missions, not just a few bolts of lightning to keep the enemy at bay, not just her telekinesis. She wasn't resisting the wands at all, and it was very, very obvious. As she floated above the city, her orange robes flutteringly wildly, their color twisted by the violent energy around her, a storm of dark, twisted magical energy had formed above her, and from it lightning rained down, peppering the approaching UE soldiers, scattering clusters of people like toys. Tanks were vaporized as they approached, and fighter jets fell from the sky like stones, their wings smoking and destroyed.

Of course, she couldn't keep it up forever, and the more she did it, the larger a target she was. But it wasn't some fancy weapon that took her down. A single shot from a well-hidden soldier on the ground took her in the shoulder, and then a second through her side, and she fell from the sky, her storm fading away like it had never been.

B: A while later, after she was rescued or revived, Rose was back, but this time she was being more careful. She stood on a rooftop, her body bathed in the black energy of the wands as she picked off approaching vehicles and men. This time when they focused on she was already gone, not risking a direct confrontation, choosing another, safer perch to snipe from.

She would rather not get shot down again...

C: After everything was finished, after the retreat, Rose could be found sitting in the corner of the arrival building, on the floor, her knees pulled up in front of her. The thorns lay on the ground nearby, still cracking faintly with energy, but Rose was ignoring them. Instead she was watching everyone coming and going, the injured, the survivors, the dead...

She wasn't crying, but she was on the edge. Holding it back through sheer force of will that was rapidly breaking down. It was so different, witnessing a world ending rather than just knowing it had ended. Hearing the screams, watching people die...

[ooc: If anyone would like to rescue Rose after she is shot down, feel free! Otherwise she'll god-tier revive after a while.]

A

[speakveryclearly]

The storm brewing was familiar. The battle in Uruguay (Venezuela? This was the last time Kanaya could call to mind the subtleties of Earth geography) had involved a similar one, but they couldn't come from the same source, right? That would mean Rose had kept the wands and without being a part of the past they shared, she couldn't possibly...

No, the girl falling out of the sky definitely had her gendered clothing suffused with the approximate color of a traffic cone.

She leaped over in multiple bounds (probably collapsed the roof of a car, didn't care) and caught her alternate universe lover, princess style. Well, at least the shoulder wound appeared to be the only one she had. The same couldn't quite be said for Kanaya, whose white dress and skin bore both red enemy bloodstains and a small but growing number of green wounds.

"I thought I warned you about thorns."

OPEN

[ladyspitfire]

[Elissa's had her doubts about the Initiative. But the destruction of another Transport's home is not something she'll sit idly by and allow to happen. She isn't very skilled in anything beyond swordplay and she has no crossbow or recurve to use... But she will fight. There's no question.

A)

Warden stamina is good for something, at least. Just when it seems like Elissa's going to run out of energy, she's back up and fighting, using her skills as an assassin and shadow to pick their enemies off one by one. It's tedious and takes too long, but she can thin them out before they get close enough for hand-to-hand. More than once, she's there to cut through them when they get too close to fleeing civilians. And more often than not, there's little she can do; no matter who she attempts to protect, they still manage to cut them down with alarming efficiency and cruelty.

She buries her sword into one of her enemies and swipes off their head. And then she ducks back behind some debris before she can be shot full of holes. She really isn't used to this sort of combat.

B)

When Elissa crosses through the portal back into Exsilium, it's clear she's not well. Blood stains her armor and, alas, it's her own. She's already clawing at the straps of her leathers to shove them aside and assess the damage, which is a good, clean cut into her ribs. It hurts to breathe and to move too much, and so she settles somewhere until a medic can deal with her.

She's a mess, red hair out of its tie and sticky with blood, but she's alive. That's what matters, right?]

A)

[goinbust]

"Darlin! Keep yer head down!"

As she ducks into some debris from another pile of rubble pops up a large powered armor that may look like a metal Shale, plastron down as it sprays bullets in the direction of the UE troops chasing her.

Exsilium: OTA for positive or negative cr | During or after the battle

[totallytrustworthy]

Injured personnel, bloodied soldiers and scrappers, streaks of crimson over stone and steel, the faint scent of medicinal chemicals alongside singed flesh sticks to the air like smoke. Chokes out everything else. Announcement or not, it's obvious there's a war on, and that the odds aren't exactly in their favor. The sort of situation that inspires heroism, even in the most incapable ( pressure on a wound, applying a salve and enough gauze to fend off infection, carrying the injured a few steps over so they're not trampled in the chaos) and it means every hand is a necessary one for the Initiative.

But Chloe's are stuck down deep in her pockets instead.

She's not far off-- though not close enough to be directly insulting, either-- back set against a solid block of concrete, thumbs tracing the tattered hem of her trousers as she watches it all go down. Distance kept and forcefully disconnected from emotion, Chloe's scanning the scene for familiar faces or the faintest sign that she ought to duck and run. Portals aren't a one-way street, after all.


[ooc note: still on hiatus and tags will be slow, but I couldn't bear to miss this! COME TO MY ARMS IF THIS IS ACCEPTABLE]

after the battle

[dawningsun]

He was still largely divided on the topic of war, especially that they wished him to fight for them. Against, what, exactly? He had no reason to want to, no reason to care.

He had been called "apathetic" by that infuriating man they had roomed him with, and perhaps it was true. But he had no reason to really worry over a world that was not his. The only concern, in his mind, was that if it could happen to one, it could happen to his home, as well.

But so long as that didn't happen...

He finally stepped out of the....not exactly safety, but solitude...of his room, and made his way out to the streets. Curiosity often got the better of him.

He limped through the streets, cane in hand and helping him along. It wasn't just apathy- even in his home world, he was far from one to chase after valor and fame, fighting where others might. He remained in Dalaran, largely, and partly because he knew he would only be a hindrance on the battlefield.

He edged a bit closer, the commotion largely died down by now and people tending to the wounded. How admirable. He paused, glancing over at the human woman standing near by, and observed her for just a few moments before looking away.

"I certainly hope this sort of event isn't common here." He glanced back toward her, raising a long brow and sounding rather bored with it all.

open

[commentboxtroll]

a. your eye in the (not really) sky, in Paris

[ Caesar's no fighter, which begs the question why he answered the Initiative's call at all, but he has his reasons. No, he's no fighter, but this wouldn't be the first time he's done what he's up to here. The last time it was only a shambling army of mutated monsters, though. This is... horrifyingly different. Even his experience from the second Fire Bringer war doesn't come near this destruction, nowhere near this, but he'll forge on regardless.

What Caesar does is put his weapon to good use. With his spyglass ignoring obstacles, seeing right through them, and seeing much farther than it should ever be had it been normal, he picks the job of finding very high spots (thankfully, while still not a fighter, he is one hell of a climber) to search out locations of both the UE troops and the Transports, giving out directions over whichever way they're keeping communications between them up. Radio, network, he has both figured out by now.

He'll be handing out warnings such as this: ]

Whoever that is closing in on the giant metal tower's big pavilion, you're about to run right into a full UE platoon. They have it locked down, avoid it.

[ And so on and so forth. ]

b. on the move, still in Paris

[ Of course, he can't easily stay in one place while doing that. He stays on the move, running across rooftops and even making the jump between the ones that are feasibly close together. More often, he has to take to the streets to get across or suddenly dive into windows as he clambers down fire escapes to avoid being spotted.

It's more work than he's used to. On the occasions he has to go into a building, he'll stop there to catch his breath, so he might be found in some random person's room from time to time. ]

c. back again, the Hold

[ But the loss is inevitable.

He'd known that from about an hour into the fighting in Paris that they wouldn't win. It's a miracle he hasn't ended up dead during the fight, too, but then again, he had no intentions on engaging the enemy himself. He does come back dirty, a little bruised, a little bloody, and reeking of fire and smoke, however, and exhausted, dragging himself back through the hold behind the rest returning from Paris. ]

b

[oncearanger]

[There's another human form hunched over in the same building, wearing a strange spandex getup. When he sees someone stumble in, he automatically grips his lance, but the tension soon fades. Even in the dark he can see the face of someone he's passingly familiar with. But does he---]

Hey. How're you holding up?

[Billy hopes he doesn't look like a UE soldier in this getup.]

open

[imusntrunaway]

a
[He can't fight. Even though he's diligently attended practice the past few months, the thought of shooting at another human being makes him nauseous, not to mention the fact that the enemy was trained. Even back home, when he had the safety of the Eva's cockpit and NERV's support the battles had been close. He stood no chance in a real battlefield, and he knew it.

But he can help.

For once, he isn't cowering. People he knew had left to fight. For someone as worthless as him, the least he could do was to provide support. He has little medical knowledge and isn't suited to be a healer, so he's sent to run supplies instead. Any requests might be attended to by him in a prompt manner, though he can't hide the disbelieving stare on his face when he sees an injured patient.]

b
[The sight of the injured is taking a toll on him. During a rare lull he leans against the wall in a corner, slumped over with a hand pressed over his mouth.

This is a war, they told the Transports when they arrived. Truthfully, Shinji had never felt it--he'd never experienced it firsthand until now and remembering the sight of gashes and blood brings him visceral memories of monstrous guts flying into the air and the sickening spray of gore--

He feels sick.]

a

[oncearanger]

[It's early in the battle. Billy still has energy, he's still going on to fight, and he's not badly injured. Nothing's lost yet. But he knows he needs supplies, and quickly.

He runs up to Shinji, worried expression concealed by his helmet.]

Would you happen to have a pair of scissors?

[He has some strange sort of half-finished device tucked under his arm. It's not cloth that he's looking to cut.]

The Hold - OPEN

[medicating]

[This is a goddamn disaster and Dr. McCoy is standing in the middle of in, barking orders. No, he isn't out fighting the UE somewhere in Elmer's world, but he's in the Hold, tending to the score of injured coming back that the Initiative don't have time to deal with.

After directing people to wheel gurneys and wheelchairs into certain rooms, he hurries to a station to snap on a pair of gloves and get to work.

It's going to be a long day.]

Damn it, man! I asked for penicillin, not penicillamine! You want to kill this kid?

[And a few minutes later...]

Get me an IV drip and a roll of bandages.

[And a hour after that...]

Where'd they get you, the shoulder? Hold still; let me take a look.


[ooc: feel free to use his dialogue as starters, or make up your own thing.]

[commentboxtroll]

It's just a scratch.

[ More like a gash, something having sliced right through cloth and skin across the top of Caesar's right-side shoulder.

It's not deep enough to have severed anything important. It's hours old, though, something gained early on in the fight on the other side of the portals, and entirely untreated, aside from some laughably makeshift bandage made from someone's unfortunately floral curtains. ]

Paris - open

[oncearanger]

And here the cycle of destruction continues. Billy isn't shocked by the destruction. No, what momentarily surprises him (though it shouldn't have) is the UE. His mind is conjuring raw images of the past, expecting claws and teeth and bugs and beetles in his world-ravaging opponents. No, just humans and human weapons. Including tanks and planes. None for the Initiative, naturally.

He's joined the fight with his newly regained powers active, having activated it before entry. The electric charge of morphing should've energized him---oh he moves faster and hist harder, and he never relents for a second---but the last few years of his life start to feel like hell.

[A - 1000]

First tactic: disruption of the squadrons through sniping. Billy uses his enhanced speed to slip around corners and into shadowy places, hitting at the groups of soldiers with well-timed shots. When they react, he moves---though the difficulty is that with 20 of them, they could fire in all directions. He hardly has room for error, and his uniform is already sizzling with bullet marks.

[B - 1300]
So many of the buildings have been demolished between the UE's efforts and the Initiative's counter-efforts (with plenty of explosive-rigging help from Billy) that hiding isn't much of an option anymore. His stockpile of explosives (and explosive-making equipment) has run out as well, and the attempt to jack a tank? That didn't go so well either.

There are clear rips in his uniform, exposing bloodied skin. The best he can hope for is to make the others bleed as well. Billy dispensed with the acrobatics long ago---he hits fast and hard, dodging in and out and savagely swiping at soldiers with his lance. Not too deep, though: he can't afford precious seconds wasted pulling a weapon out of a body.

He doesn't stop to think about what he's doing. There's no time. He can't let another world be wiped from existence, he's witnessed far too many scenes like this one.

[C - 1400]
He tries to use his lance to push himself upright. Come on, Billy, no time for delay, they're coming...but there's no moving, no energy left. The Power can't keep up with his every new wound anymore. There's just no holding him together now, is there?

He desperately forces his muscles to move, same as before, but there aren't enough left in working order. With an anguished cry, he falls back against the rubble.

It appears he's lost. He esitmates that there are only minutes until the UE's attacks find him, finishing him off in another fiery blaze. The screams of dying people from the present and the past ring in his ears, and he can't help but cry out in anguish.

All the people of this world, Elmer, everyone...in the same boat that he's been. So many futures lost.

C

[eyecontact]

Hands settle on Billy's shoulders – small, but by no means meek. On his knees, Jericho leans over him, staring hard down on that scorched and scratched-up helmet. Staring and searching for the one thing that's going to get this guy's limbs moving again:

Eye contact.

open; new york, moscow, london

[motherofnemesis]

[ ooc: still on slowaitus, tags will not be rapid, but i cannot resist this. ]

o1. new york.

[ New York had been home for a long time, and seeing it like this was nothing she had wanted, ever. For a moment she almost headed back into the portal and to the Hold, but she was angry, her empathy broadcasting it like a knife to anyone nearby before she clamped down on that, looked for enemies to direct it at. She'd been wanting a real fight for a while.

Back home they'd never called it a war.

This was, though, and she'd come prepared to a certain extent, wearing clothes over an outfit she'd been cobbling together that if it was visible would closely resemble her old vigilante outfit, armored but easy to move in. And she'd certainly come weaponized. But she's not much of a teamwork person and one person might be able to make a dent but it's no good against an entire squadron. She learns that particular lesson the hard way, waking up in the medbay still coughing from the smoke of her own grenades. ]

o2. moscow.

[ She should have brought a warmer coat, she thinks, but then the first explosion goes off and she decides that no, it's fine, honestly. Nothing warmer needed.

Moscow goes better than New York simply because she teams up with people, bolstering ranks, throwing explosives, acting as a decoy and employing her empathy, and in general doing anything stupidly reckless that needs doing and she can so other people don't have to.

It still doesn't really end as well as it could. ]

o3. london.

[ By now she's not entirely sure what she's doing out here. Maybe she likes the feeling of invincibility that comes each time she gasps back to life in the medbay. Maybe she's just got too much of a savior complex and doesn't know how to stand by when people are dying. Maybe she just really wants to hurt the people who caused this much residual pain and suffering. Her empathy's whited out, past overload and into an area that's going to be excruciating to come down from, but she still has her guns and her brains and more knowledge of machines than any of these soldiers is going to be happy about.

When they retreat she goes reluctantly, trying to ensure that everyone else is through safely before she'll step back through. ]

Open!

[governorkang]

[A]

So it was true, that the UE had plans on attacking other worlds. It wasn't his particular world, but he was a realist, and he knew that Krynn was just a matter of time; the sooner they stopped the UE, the less chance his home would be attacked. That fact was enough to make him grab his sword and go through the portal.

He was stronger than the average human, and a skilled fighter with both blades and hand-to-hand (though not quite as skilled as he used to be due to having to learn to use his non-dominant hand), but the weapons the UE soldiers had far outclassed his own, and the clones' enhancements made them formidable opponents. Besides the logical reason of having someone to watch his back and vice versa, his Weapon was nearly useless without others around to use it on, so he made sure to stick by other defenders as much as possible, keeping them within range of his voice.

So many years of being a commander, and the number of battles he'd fought in, meant that he fell back very easily into the pattern, calling out strays and trying to coordinate flanking maneuvers and charges. His skills as a tactician were as strong as ever.

[B]

He was taken down eventually, by gunfire from a UE soldier. Fortunately for him, there had been three other UE soldiers within ten feet of his corpse, so when his bones had exploded, they had died with him.

He took great personal satisfaction in that fact.

And, also fortunate for him, he ran into some of the same soldiers from that squadron when he returned forty-five minutes later. They regarded him somewhat warily, which just made him grin in a way that showed off every single one of his very sharp teeth before continuing the fight.

Again, he died, but this time one of the soldiers used a lull in the battle to pause and carefully check his corpse for a bomb, in case Transports carried any like it. That soldier, and what was left of the squadron, then realized that bozak draconians were walking bombs.

Several UE soldiers also learned that draconians were quick learners when it came to weaponry when Kang managed to find one of their guns. It didn't matter how bad a shot he was when said gun fired hundreds of bullets a minute.

[C]

After the battle, Kang slumped against the wall of the med bay, feeling very sore and tired, and in need of stitches for a long cut on his forearm. He'd used the shirt of a dead civilian to stop it from bleeding too heavily; the cloth was stained a greenish shade rather than red.

A-ish

[oncearanger]

There was nothing like the stress of a battle to stop the takedown of an entire planet to put Billy back in the mindset of the last year of his life. When Kang was nearby, as fierce and unrelenting as ever, it was also quite easy for Billy to forget that they weren't friends.

Billy plowed his way through a wave of soldiers as he'd been taught, speeding out of the way when he could and going right for the kill when he had an opening. Eventually, he drew close enough to be heard over the noise, pausing for a second while he aimed in the distance.

"You all right?"

open

[redheadcarrier]

A

[She was stupid. She'd actually thought she could do something on the front lines of this war and when the call had gone out, she'd tried to shover her fear aside and just gone, because she wasn't going to sit back and be useless. She was going to prove that she was worth something - that she was useful. That had listed about ten minutes. She'd been completely out of her depth, scared out of her mind and holding a spear. What had she expected? That she was going to singlehandedly going to win the war? She didn't have her Eva and it's meters of armored plate and AT field to hide behind.

She hadn't seen the shell (or grenade or whatever it was) that had spun her around and dropped her onto her back. It felt like someone or something had slammed a baseball bat into the side of her head and her vision on one side had gone dark. She hadn't understood why at first and it still hadn't really sunk in until she was back in the Hold on a cot, staring up at the ceiling while a medical technician strapped gauze and bandages around her head and over the wreck of an eye socket she had now. "You're lucky it didn't kill you," he'd said.

But she thought that if at least she'd ended up dead, she would've come back whole.

She perched on her cot and watched as people hustled back and forth, listening to the screams and the subdued chaos of the Hold in full panic mode. She looked a bit listless, still dazed and maybe a little confused. Then again, maybe that was to be expected. For once, she almost wished she could get away from the noise and the attention that came from people passing through.

She didn't look up to meet anyone's gaze. Not yet]


B

[She shouldn't be on her feet. She was still a bit woozy, after all. But she was stable and she wasn't going to sit around and be useless. She hated feeling like she was dead weight, so she'd started running medical supplies back and forth, although she looked a bit unsteady - she had to keep adjusting for the total lack of vision on one side of her body she'd run into someone more then once, usually without pausing to say "sorry" or "excuse me".

If she stopped to think too hard, she'd be in trouble.]

A

[musclebeast]

[When she does look up perhaps their eyes meet- it's hard to tell. Equius is still wearing his black shades as he stands near a man helping his with some shot stuck in his side. He had just been in DC and his situation had been incredibly conflicting. He escaped, yes, but with some damage and apparently a side full of shot gun spray. It left the skin there a chewed up mess like that aftermath of a dog toy, but with a furrowed brow and his teeth grinding so hard to make the taste of blood in his mouth more intense, he was dealing with it.]

[Equius manages to stay still as well, arm lifted. The arm on that side of is body had minor wounds compared to his mauled side, nothing too heavy, but his other arm- the right one- looked peculiar. The entirety of it was armored up, thick and black, his fingers just the same but the armor there was thin and maneuverable. Oddly enough, the black plating and blue highlights matched the bow on his back- wait, no. The blue highlights on that armor'd arm weren't supposed to be there. Infact, there's a lot of blue, all in that wound too-

Blue, that's his blood. It almost makes the scene less gruesome, the look of his blood, paint like, makes the grey skinned boy almost easier to look at in general. Perhaps the oddity of it was what drew her to glance his way when she first looked up. Blue in contrast to all the red.]

[And it seems like he had been looking at you- Her. His eyes still shielded. But when she looked up they stared at eachother for few seconds before-]

What. [Said with a strain in his voice, words hissed through his still clenched teeth as bits of metal are picked out of his side.]

New York; 1020 | Open

[accidentalrebellion]

[Air thick with smoke. Everything on fire as far as the eye can see. Bodies surrounding her feet on all sides, while the stench of burning flesh invades her lungs and chokes her with more force than the smoke ever could.

These are things that are all too familiar; she experiences them almost every night. Only not to this scale, never to this scale. This is beyond anything that memory and imagination can provide.

Every cell in her body is frozen. Everything shuts down. Everything, that is, except for the one rational voice at the back of her mind.

Move, Katniss. You have to move.

The survival instinct takes over. It guides her fingers to notch an arrow and have it at the ready. It guides her feet to move quickly, enables her to have a decent amount of luck at dodging bodies and pieces of falling debris from damaged buildings.

But luck is never destined to last. Luck runs out of steam, putters and dies completely, when the inevitability that she'll find herself cornered becomes a reality.

One bow, one quiver of arrows against twenty soldiers moving in her direction, each carrying an arsenal of weapons so high-tech that even a Gamemaker could hardly fathom them.

The odds aren't exactly in her favor.]

[speakveryclearly]

[As the situation with Johnny d'Amico's melee mob died (died) down temporarily, Kanaya could afford expending some of her attention on the ranged assailant alone nearby. Arrows. What was this girl so dangerous humans thought she should be locked up (she shouldn't, no one should), from the past? Or just stupidly sentimental? She had no time to figure that out; she simply could see the intractable problem of dispensible ammunition that wouldn't return to its firer automatically.

She put her lipstick (chainsaw) away (into hyperspace) and drew upon her greatest asset: Speed. In a flashing white blur (both her skin and her dress, though the latter was rather stained with enemy blood), she gathered up half a dozen fired arrows and presented the clenched fistful to Katniss (a name she barely knew and wouldn't use) with a single curt word.)]

Here.

Open!

[originalgaangster]

Sokka's first instinct had been to join the others heading into battle, but he has to pause when he remembers that he's extremely lightly armed compared to everyone else. A sword. A boomerang. A knife. Nothing compared to the arsenal that others are carrying. So instead, he heads for the Hold to offer his help there--it's not his fight, but people are being hurt and that's all he needs. He finds himself in front of a massive flat-screen depicting a city he's never heard of, though the name(Hong Kong) sounds vaguely familiar.

In a moment, he's recognized that the map is updating in real time, the variously colored symbols and dots moving and dancing about as new data comes in. Without hesitating, he jams on the headset from the desk in front of him and begins offering advice to the names he identifies on the map. Warning of enemy positions, alerting to the proximity of friendly dots, keeping the Initiative updated on what's happening on his end. Without intending to, he's become a conduit of information, passing on everything he can to those who need his help.

[ Feel free to have a conversation over the comms with Sokka, or just join him in the command center thing. ]

[Com]

[goinbust]

"You're that kid with the engines right? Don't suppose you have tactical on that DC place? May have bit off a bit more than I can chew."

Hong Kong - OTA

[2leftfeet]

[A]
[They're not ready for this. That much is clear the moment her feet are on the ground. Most Transports seem to scatter the moment they step through the portal and find what's on the other side with no sense of how to group and combat the squadrons of UE moving through the streets of Hong Kong.

But there's no time to attempt any kind of regrouping. The most she can do is drive into the fray with her rifle to bare, flaring bright when UE fire connects with her shields.]

[B]
[Falling back doesn't really mean anything when there's no ground to fall back to. The United Earth's troops seem to be everywhere at once and around every corner. Holding ground for more than an hour at a time seems impossible, which means the most they can do is keep moving and hope to destabilize the UE.

Makes for a hell of a time though. After a few hours on the field, Shepard finds herself temporarily holed up in a motor pool. With her back pressed against one of the massive red and yellow doubledecker buses, she quickly scans the network on her omnitool for any transmissions to point her in a direction where she might be useful.]

[C - closed to Thane and Garrus]
[There's a devastating volley of canon fire coming from the rooftop of one of the taller buildings, the beam eating up vehicles and transports and civilians and whatever else is unlucky enough to get caught in the blast. Compared with the rest of the destruction, it's a small thing but a tower siege is well within their capabilities. They may not have a stable communications network, any kind of shock troops or any plan at all by by god she can at least take out that damn canon.

The bronze inlays on the massive atrium floors of the building would be worth admiring if she weren't busy leading them on a chase up through the tower, blasting UE troops and sprinting through networks of cubicles and a maze of halls as they work their way up.]

just gonna snag this yes

[battlesleep]

[ For all that this situation is terrible, this moment right here feels - normal. He and Garrus at Shepard's back, moving as fast as they can to work through ranks of opponents to a goal.

He feels purposeful again, prayers under his breath for the men he must kill. His arm is Shepard's, and Shepard needs that cannon taken out. ]

Five at 8 o'clock! [ He calls it out as he ducks into cover, rises to take a shot and slides back down to switch guns back to his pistol for close quarters. ]