The first target (IC)

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Jason_ford

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Word would have gotten out by now that Jason was looking for mercenaries and assassins to help, any who did come to his aid, would find him already preparing for his first target. The united states penitentiary, Administrative Maximum facility. Why? Because the kind of people in there are the kind of people he wanted to release to wreak havoc. He only needed so many allies for this act, too many and he would just end up getting people killed, too few and he couldn't preform enough operations to get anything good out of it. This was practically going to be war against a country some would consider to be the most dangerous in the world, and most of his Ghost Crew had reasonably stepped out of it. He allowed them of course. And he still had enough to get what he wanted, hopefully. The time had come, the plan was about to be set in motion, let Hell reign loose.

His own forces:

12 Blue Bloods aboard three well cloaked armored transports,

Three Blue Bloods on foot.

And then his extra tool,

Peter Peters.

He did not speak words about why he was doing what he was doing, most people here wouldn't care his reasons. They were here because he had gotten them powers, top of the line tech, and money. They were only so loyal because they knew he would repay it in kind.

Two of the armored transports were coming in from the North, they were the primary assault force and would make the first attack. Coming in at 70 mph but still entirely cloaked, and with a sort of tarp specifically made to prevent it from leaving tracks or throwing dirt into the air to alert the prison. Meanwhile, the third armored transport would be coming in from the east, carrying any mercenaries who chose that they wanted action closer up to the battle field but not as part of the main force. Once the North first made their hit, the east force would come in soon after. Both forces were given simply instructions, take out the guards and release the prisoners as quickly as possible. Do so discreetly, but if you do get caught or arouse attention, arouse a lot of it.

Then there was the stealth force, coming in from the east as well but designed to come after the armored vehicle. Jason would have a position in which he could cut a hole into the wall with his particle beam rifle, and then the three Blue Bloods with him would head out running at fully speed to sneak through and release the more sinister of the criminals and lead them out through the hole and into one of the vehicles to escape with, cloaking it as they did so. Then Jason, Peters, and any of the mercenaries or allies who wanted to hold back from the starting action or intended on attacking from a distance, would make their move. Making another hole to allow Peters and any others to attack through, and to give an extra escape route. Meanwhile Jason would decide where any other mercenaries were needed, as well as himself.

(OOC: Any allies may start posting now. Blue Bloods are primarily NPC's but their abilities are sometimes undersold, if you take them on yourself make sure you read their bio well, they are very experienced, well armed, powerful, and practically evolve every time they see someone fight.

If you are an enemy of mine and can detect the armored vehicles despite the cloaking, which I expect if any of you have extremely enhanced senses or more advanced technology, then go ahead and start posting as well, or if you just wanted to get a post out.

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Assassinatrix

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MRF safehouse, location undisclosed:

Metallic clangs reverberated throughout the basement of the facility, as Kaede's fists connected again and again with the junked car that hung suspended from the reinforced ceiling by a thick logging chain. It was serving the purpose of a heavy punching bag for the enhanced operative, the strength from each of her one-ton blows rendering it less and less recognizable. She held nothing back, as her durability negated any risk of injury from the brutal impacts.

Her violent reverie was interrupted, however, by the strident ringing of the phone that sat atop a nearby bench, next to her towel and water bottle. She paused momentarily, chest heaving, sweat beading on her bare skin, before crossing and answering it. This phone had been provided to her by her employer, and when it rang it meant only one thing: she was about to be given an opportunity to hurt someone. Badly.

"Target?"

"Not just yet," a voice on the other end answered. "Word has it that someone's been offering to hire mercenaries, though. Lots of 'em. May be nothing, but it's more likely that something big's about to go down. If it does, you'll get further instructions. Make sure you're ready."

"I'm always ready," Kaede answered flatly, before ending the call. She set the phone down, crossing back to her unconventional piece of training equipment. In a sudden burst of violence, she unleashed a particularly savage haymaker, which snapped the heavy chain like a bit of rotten string and sent the wrecked remnants of the vehicle sailing halfways across the room with a cacophonous crash.

Yeah, she was ready.

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Demon_Diane

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@jason_ford: @assassinatrix: (Note to everyone: I have the same character involved in CVU. But for CVnU, I'm changing some aspects of her character- so that its not canon to CVU at all. Just in case some people might get confused)

No Caption Provided

"Do you really need those glasses?" Carla asked Diane, observing her body from within her mind, which had been taken over by a demon who called herself Diane.

It had happened a few months back. There was an incident- an outbreak of demons. Obviously Carla did not consent to being possessed, but she soon learnt it came with benefits. The demon called Diane was unlike others, she preferred a more...good life. And she did certainly not devour her soul or anything like what she had imagined. Carla would sometimes be in her own form and and be in control of it. She was 5'2" tall, with a not so bad looking figure going for him. Diane however, was around 7 feet tall. The transformation always freaked her out.

"No sister; I do not," Diane laughed inwardly, talking out loud. She was currently standing outsider her apartment, ready to board a truck that had stopped in front of the building. So much for ambiguity, she thought. The driver signaled her to get in. Working as a mercenary had its ups. She didn't need to worry about commitment. Whoever paid her first, and most, was where her loyalty lay. Diane had not received much of a briefing as to what she was going to be doing, however not of that mattered. She was going to do what she was going to do. She's good at smashing things, so Diane would probably do just that.

She jogged off towards the truck, and vaulted on to the back of the truck. She was so big, her head almost touched the roof of the truck, and she easily occupied space meant for two. There were others on the truck, but she kept to herself. She had company with Carla anyway.

"You're gonna smash stuff, aren't you?" Carla asked. She wasn't worried. Diane could take care of herself through any situation. She was tough, strong and the best thing that happened to her.

"Yes sister, I am!" Diane said mentally.

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Ishmael_Strix

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#4  Edited By Ishmael_Strix

Despite his rather...privileged upbringing, the masked Strix had always benefited from an eccentric buffet of uniquely taught skills. Such as urban survival techniques, tested and weighed against some of Gothic's more notable heroes. Substantiated by his ability to survive Gothic's annihilation, when it appeared as though his family had not. Skills that allowed the undercover aristocrat to parlay his abilities into a successful stint as a 'specialist.'

With his identity concealed underneath a rather rudimentary mask, and his public persona legally declared as dead, Ishmael was confident in his ability to bleed into the small confederation of hired criminals and mercenaries. Just another nameless body in a sea of strategists, killers, and tactical technicians. Silently swaying with the rhythm of the road as the appropriated transport truck lurched and jolted, every pothole and divot sending a visible shock-wave through the weakly strutted vehicle. But nothing as violent as the unexpected arrival of the towering female titan. @demon_diane:

No Caption Provided

Shock and awe quickly ran through the spines of the occupants in the back, though Ishmael hid his surprise well, was no less caught off guard by her appearance. Quietly he slipped his Heckler and Kock Mk23 SOCOM .45 back in its shoulder harness, "Well then, I guess this means we're the stealth squad." he sardonically joked, arousing a small but noticeable chuckle from a couple would be compatriots . Bringing the barrel of his custom AR-15 back against his shoulder, returning his mind to deep and introspective contemplation in regards to the mission.

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Madridista

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ADX Florence, Fremont County, Colorado

Imprisonment, a minor setback, no more than the simple consequence of a life of violence and domestic terrorism. His weapons and gear confiscated, and his physical fitness at an all-time low, the Beast from the East was left with little more than his extraordinary martial skill and extranormal intellect. And they would serve him well in his planned escape. An escape from the most inhumane prison on American soil. Behind the concrete walls of his prison cell, Genki saw nothing. Peeking out the four inch window of his cell, he saw nothing but the sky and the edge of the roof, no man nor woman, not even a highway out in the distance. Seated on his bed, or rather a slab of concrete, his back leaning against the wall, Genki waited.

A month in the supermax prison and he'd learned enough to orchestrate his own escape. Inmates spent twenty-three hours of their day confined to their cells but there was a window of opportunity, one that saw inmates escorted by armed officers for five hours of private recreation per week. The window of opportunity was small, but there nonetheless. And at the sight of two officers entering his cell, he wore a faint smirk, "So.. how do you want to do this?", he asked, sliding off his bed, his dark and mesmeric eyes gazing upon each officer, studying their harsh exteriors, their postures and subtle changes in body language. "Hour of recreation, prisoner", one of the guards answered coldly, his rifle kept close to his chest, his glare as hard as the concrete all about them.

"Ah.. I see", Genki murmured, his calmness tangible as he stepped forward and met their eyes once more, "I must not have been clear. So I will phrase my words differently", he paused, his eccentric Japanese-Spanish inflection echoing among them. "Will you stand aside or must I stand you aside?", he prodded, an arrogant indifference, a dead-serious yet calm matter-of-fact tone echoing from his words. The officers did not react. They merely repeated, "Hour of recreation, prisoner". A roll of his shoulders and the Beast from the East smirked. Even malnourished, Genki's altered subconscious censor meant he was far faster and quicker than them. And his ability to target the vulnerable points in a physical system meant every blow was lethal. He wasted no time.

No Caption Provided

Darting forward, too fast for their eyes to follow, Genki's hands grabbed the back of one officer's neck, yanking him around with the Thai clinch, keeping the officer's body in-between him and the other officer, "You'd shoot your friend to get to me?", he taunted, using the Thai clinch to yank the officer into a knee that rammed deep into his midsection and ruptured his liver. Dead. His foe collapsed. Feinting a jab before dipping into a right hook to the body, his fist blasting into and rupturing the other officer's liver, Genki's eyes trailed him, watching him slump over and die with a smug indifference. Panting, he leaned his back against a wall for a moment. He was malnourished and unfit for extended combat. With his nutrition low, so was his stamina.

Glancing at the officers' corpses, he spotted the cell key. Removing it from them, he glanced about the cell, stripping one of the officer's of their uniform and donning it, he kept his hat low, shadowing his face before quietly stepping out his cell. And from there, things would grow infinitely riskier.

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Jason_ford

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@assassinatrix: @demon_diane: @ishmael_strix: @madridista:

Now, it had begun.

Red Mask radio'd his allies over their well hidden and coded signals, "This is Red Mask, the plan is simple, the north force will hit first. They will take the brunt of any defensive measures, and will also be intent on breaking through the walls and ultimately causing damage to the defenses and attention of them. Then will come the east truck will go in, use more stealth in this truck, keep cloaking on if you have it. If you do run into trouble, make a disaster for them, you would likely end up with aid from any prisoners you release as well if you do so. Next comes in the actual stealth force, I'll make an opening for them and me, we're on foot. We will take care of getting out any who are more influential and get them out via one of the trucks to safety. Once all prisoners are out, we will either pull back and depart in the trucks to vanish, or we will overtake it temporarily in order to secure our escape. You will be paid well for this."

And so it had begun, the two North trucks were set in motion and shortly after so was the east. Jason watched from a distance keeping an eye out for when he would set the stealth force, as well as himself and Peters, into motion and make things even more complicated for the defenses. Release the chaos.

(OOC: If there are any other allies or enemies I am not saying this is closed now, please go ahead and join in. I intentionally didn't directly address my allies individually so that I could let any others come in if they decided to, and the enemies can basically come in whenever they feel like it now.)

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Raees_Mason

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#7  Edited By Raees_Mason

San Francisco, California

No Caption Provided

The air was cool and perfumed, the red leather was soft and comforting on his back, and his raven hair seemed to blend in with the shadows of night as a BMW M5 cruised through the streets, it's tires gliding smooth over the road as the Mason Wonderboy examined a 9mm Glock 18 handgun. Lying on the backseat of the car, his pacific blue eyes wore a scrutinizing gaze as he studied the handgun from end to end before sighing, "Not to sound ungrateful, dear but.. please tell me this 9mm is not the best the agency gave you", he remarked, drawing a glance from his assigned partner. Her hands on the steering wheel, and her hazel eyes firmly on the empty road, Afrah shrugged, a strand of her long raven hair limping over her forehead, "I don't.. what do you mean by that?", she asked.

"A 9mm's use is primarily as a defensive weapon", Raees answered. "And?", Afrah prodded, her features of singular beauty wearing her curiosity well, her thick Delhi accent a stark contrast to his smoother Londoner accent. "And that means that a 9mm might as well be a bloody toy when talking about combat", he made clear, his words carried by the voice of a suave introvert. "I'm a transport specialist so I don't usually concern myself with that", Afrah reminded before a sigh escaped her rose, pouty lips. "You're welcome to check the weapons case", she offered, returning her eyes to the road, and her attention to driving them back to their intelligence agency's headquarters. "Lovely", he smiled, opening the weapons case, a pleased gaze resting upon his handgun of choice; the MK25. "Now this is a weapon for starting some shit", he smirked, an air of cheeky charm about him.

A half hour later and the two'd returned to headquarters. Striding into the mission briefing room, the Showstopper wore a black, three-piece and two-button Ermenegildo Zegna suit that hugged his muscled frame well. Brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, his eyes met his agency superior's, Lara, and she wasted little time in catching him up on his assigned mission. "You're to infiltrate the ADX Supermax. A domestic terrorist known only by his alias, Madridista, is there. While he's yet to break out, we are not confident in the prison's ability to hold a criminal of his caliber. He'll escape. And I'd rather not wake up to breaking news of the first ever escape from the ADX Supermax because we were too slow to act", she paused, his middle-aged features stern and earnest. "I want you to extract him and bring him back to us because unlike that prison, we can hold him".

"And while the odds are unlikely, if you see any other attempted escapes, do stop them", she added, her hands upon her hips, her blonde hair tied in a tight bun. "We've assigned you a partner...", ah but her words were cut short. Arms folded before his chest, a smirk of playful arrogance upon his face, Raees shook his head, "No". Confused, Lara raised her brow, "Excuse me?", she questioned, as though his one word were a mistake. "I already have a partner. I don't mean to sound rude but I don't quite care who you've picked out, or how good they are. They're not as good as my partner", the Mason Wonderboy insisted, striding a step closer to Lara. "I want Cassandra Knight", he asserted, confident yet cool with his demand, his mind only on his former partner from the GCPD (Gothic City Police Department). "Cassandra Knight?", she repeated, skeptical.

Reaching for a small tablet on her desk, Lara typed in 'Cassandra Knight' and searched the agency's database. Immediately, her face seemed displeased with the results, her brow furrowed. "So you want the woman who is currently imprisoned in the ADX for a string of domestic terrorist attacks in Gothic City?". Raees' brow furrowed, confusion marring his charming features, "Domestic terrorism? She's a decorated member of the GCPD. I worked with her", he answered. "Well whatever her past, her present is in the ADX. Still want her as a partner?", she asked, her dry sarcasm hanging thick in the air. "Perhaps I'll go about this on my own. Thank you for the briefing", Raees concluded, taking his leave before any word from Lara could be heard. A partner would only serve as an obstacle. Not in Madridista's apprehension, but Cassandra's escape.

He was going to break her out.

ADX Florence, Fremont County, Colorado

No Caption Provided

Hands behind the steering wheel, the roar of a 12.0 litre WW32 engine echoing from the hood of his modified Mercedes AMG Vision GT, the Showstopper accelerated and accelerated, the Mercedes' burst-proof nanotube skeleton tires gripping the asphalt well and burning their mark on the road. Flicking and tapping his fingers on the dashboard's touchscreen, Raees activated the car's cloaking mode, preventing any photons from bouncing off of it by storing them in a personal quantum dimensional state. Slowing the car and switching from the WW32 engine to the quieter liquid-cooled hydrogen-injected ICE I/C plant, the Showstopper drew closer and closer to the ADX before bringing his Mercedes to a stop and parking it nearby.

It's cloaking mode still on, he stepped out, locked the car doors and slid on a pair of sunglasses. Sunglasses whose lenses used an algorithm that read passive sounds through video to analyze the otherwise imperceptible vibrations made by sound waves on surfaces. Vibrations made audible through nano-sized earpieces at the edges of his sunglasses' rims. Striding forward, Raees kept his posture global, the micro-high-speed cameras in his lenses peering through walls and soundproof glass and feeding him the location of roaming prison guards and security via sound. At all times, he knew where they were. Avoiding them was easy. And disabling security cameras proved even easier. From his pocket, he drew a modified Mont BlancMeisterstück Moon Pearl pen and shot fin-stabilized hyper-sonic darts into any cameras his way, and from an angle from which he could not be seen.

To any nearby prison guards and security, he did the same, pointing his pen their way and shooting nanite-containing fin-stabilized hyper-sonic darts. Nanites that blocked the Protein Kinase C zeta/PKM-zeta enzyme and PRKCZ gene in their bodies, both of which are responsible for maintaining memories in the brain. And from them, he stripped their memories of ever seeing him in the first place. Once inside the prison hallways, Raees moved with greater caution. The arrogant nonchalance with which he'd strode into the outdoor prison complex was no more. In tighter spaces with an alarming number of officers and guards patrolling, he was careful, quiet, and every bit the spy he needed to be. Opting to first find Cassandra then apprehend Madridista, he began his search.

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Jason_ford

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@assassinatrix: @ishmael_strix: @madridista: @raees_mason: @demon_diane:

The first two trucks reached the base and out came the eight Blue Bloods. All of them charged at the wall and placed explosives there that would go off in a matter of seconds to break it apart, but they wouldn't wait for that to happen, that was just to decrease the security. Next they leaped over the walls and began firing armor piercing rounds at the guards and any cameras, due to their advanced physiology they could dodge or tank most attacks aimed for them, even if they did slow them down somewhat to accomplishing their goals. All eight would then spread out in teams of two and attempt to break out any prisoners, using explosives when necessary.

The second truck would hit only half a minute after the first one, this time moving quieter. The four Blue Bloods aboard this one would dig a smaller hole through a piece of the wall which would be disguised as being still intact, this would allow them easy entrance without being detected as they kept their cloaking on and attempted to sneak through and get out any prisoners.

Meanwhile, Jason and Peters watched from the distance, also cloaked, and awaiting the proper moment to send in the three Blue Bloods with them to help finish through with the situation.

(OOC: Decided to speed things up, apparently I thought I had started it already but I was wrong)

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Soterichor

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"Hnngh...Hey! I said, hands...off!" Cassandra fought the officers from start to finish, indignation in every tramping step. Her life was a marred pit of confusion well before the Red Mask's attack. She awoke, handcuffed, in the back of an armored transport vehicle without the slightest hint of understanding of anything before then. Perhaps most disconcerting, she was missing time, not out of the moments immediately prior; she couldn't remember anything, from her entire life.

No sense of identity, not even a name, and the uniformed guards were now leading her down the halls of a dreary prison. Though she had almost nothing in the way of context, something felt off. She felt...out of place. Completely backwards. She should've been more than capable, but as much as she struggled it felt like something was holding her back. The officers held a tight grip, and with a couple of shocks from their stun guns Cassandra was rendered mostly passive, though she continued questioning.

"Oiga, hey, you two. Listen...whatever happened, I assure you you've made a mistake. I didn't...do anything."

They chuckled but remained silent as they escorted her through the halls. Cells on either side housed prisoners, all males, shouting various obscenities and taunts, some reaching through the bars, for her or the officers.

They strode through several repetitive cell blocks before reaching an entirely separate wing of the prison. No more voices, no more jeers...No more people. Whatever she apparently did, it was bad enough to earn her a cell situated in complete isolation. She never stopped pleading, the honest pleas of an innocent girl, until they'd finally tossed her into her cell. A cell that clearly was never meant for people like her. Something hastily prepared, cleared for an emergency arrival.

She hadn't even gotten the standard change of clothes. Simply rushed to her cell and shoved onto the cold granite floor, they closed the door behind her and stood for a while.

No Caption Provided

Cassandra stood and turned, her pleading demeanor gone, regarding them with a scowl. "Whoever touched my ass right there...just killed you both. I promise, I won't forget either of your faces." The officers looked at one another, shared a chuckle, and walked out.

"Heh, whatever," one said to the other. "I'm on lunch now. You comin'?"

"Nah, I gotta observe Block C on their hour of recreation. We'll catch up later."

The sound of jangling keys and footsteps trailed off, leaving her alone in virtual silence, her only company the repetitive, metronome drip from somewhere outside.

And there she sat, staring at the walls for an indeterminate amount of time. Trying to figure our exactly how she'd wound up there. What had she done? How had she been captured? Where was she? Anything, but even the smallest details eluded her. Her entire life amounted to...nothing. It didn't seem possible, and yet it was. Even should she manage escape, she had only the slightest clue how she might fit in with whatever society of which she was a part. There was nothing to grasp.

Eventually she found the footsteps returning. But these were different. Not the standard tramp of the guards. Different shoes, a different gait. But when he showed (@raees_mason), she regarded him in the exact same way. Looked him up and down, judging him. Handsome fellow, all things considered. Well-dressed, tall, charming features. And suddenly she felt self-conscious in the torn black dress that hugged her every curve. Classless. But as classy as he appeared, to her he was just another one of them. He'd sought her directly, knew exactly who he was looking for. And if he was there for her, in her supposed isolation, he could only be there for one thing.

Cassandra scoffed, raising from the cold hard bed and standing in a defensive stance with a scowl plastered across her face.

"However you think this is gonna go, I promise it won't be nearly as fun as you imagine."

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Raees_Mason

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@soterichor:

Inside the ADX, things had grown trickier. His back against a wall, one hand brushing a spec from his violet silk tie, Raees peeked beyond the edge of the corridor. Squinting behind the high-tech lenses of his sunglasses, his eyes worked in tandem with them, detecting and pinpointing the location of roaming vibrations; the footsteps of nearby prison guards and officers. Quietly, he stalked and slipped his way from cell block to cell block, muffling the heels of his stylish shoes, before glancing at the custom Rolex Yacht-Master II hugging his wrist. Posh and well polished, the watch was an irreplaceable member of the Showstopper's arsenal of weapons and gadgetry. Crouched by a corner, Raees was reminded why.

No Caption Provided

Beneath the watch's steel and Everose gold finish, was a technological wonder unlike any the world of espionage had ever seen. A technology that predicted the short-term intentions and actions of those around it's wearer. A technology that works by reading the subconscious brain activity that precedes conscious decision. A technology that alerted the Showstopper's mind to the intentions of others. And a technology that allowed him to predict the actions of others before they are even consciously aware of their own decisions to perform them. And it was this technology that mapped his route to Cassandra. He knew where the nearby guards and officers would roam before they themselves knew. He avoided them with absurd ease. Plucking the sunglasses from his face and slipping them into a pocket, Raees relied solely on his watch for navigation.

The lights dimmed, and the walls seemed to grey. Block C. It was where the terrorists, the worst of the worst were kept. Prison cells were kept a cruel distance from one another, and the walls were thick and soundproof. There was silence. And communication among inmates was impossible. His watch alerted him, and he drew his Mont BlancMeisterstück Moon Pearl pen, taking aim and shooting a fin-stabilized hyper-sonic dart into the lone guard's shoulder. Quickly, the dart's nanites took effect, blocking his Protein Kinase C zeta/PKM-zeta enzyme and PRKCZ gene - and robbing him of his memories, among them his life as a prison guard. Plucking the keys from him, Raees strode on, his disarming presence and flair matched only by his near-supernatural swank. Finally, his footsteps stopping, keys in hand, Raees' eyes fell upon Cassandra.

She was his former partner in the GCPD, and yet here she was, imprisoned and found guilty of domestic terrorism. At the sight of her, his face softened, wearing his relief as their eyes met, his with the deep blue of the ocean, and hers with the coppery gold of a unique gem, Raees expected familiarity but found none. He watched her stand and her posture grow defensive. She didn't recognize him. And his watch alerted him, warning his mind that she intended fight. Left brow raised, confusion and curiosity on his charming features, Raees felt his head tilt to the side, his gaze growing more scrutinous by the second. "You don't know who I am?", he asked, his smooth voice kept low so as not to draw attention, "Has she gone mental?", he wondered in thought. "Come now, Cassandra. It's me. Raees", his smile casting a mood of comfort and social magnetism.

No Caption Provided

"I'm here to break you out", he made clear, offering a glimpse of the keys he'd stolen. But at the sound of nearby footsteps, the Showstopper scowled. He'd been ignoring his watch's warnings in favor of conversation with Cassandra. With a sigh, he tossed her the keys to her cell and watched it glide past the metal bars that held her as he withdrew himself, blending in with the shadows and drawing his weapon of choice, one of his 'Mason Handguns'. By the corner, he held a position that was secure and optimal for observation. Holding his features in earnest, he took aim, aligning his dominant eye with the aiming point and relaxing his muscles and breathing. Targeting the greatest points of exposure, the Showstopper squeezed the trigger and fired - silently. The rounds emitted no sound. These were no bullets.

Instead, they were streams of ferrofluid magnetically expelled at lethal velocities. Like a high-pressure water jet, they could cut through nearly anything. The flesh of men stood no chance. One by one, the prison guards dropped dead as Raees emerged from the shadows, taking a shot with each stride, a bold and suave presence permeating his every gesture in the face of intensity, a presence that radiated outward and made him seem far more compelling and extraordinary. By now he assumed Cassandra'd used the keys to escape her cell. And he'd present her with his handgun, "You might need this", he assured, adjusting and straightening his tie, "Unless, in addition to me, you've also forgotten how to shoot", he teased, cheek and playful wit at the end of his words. "Well then, shall we begin our escape?".

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Assassinatrix

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@soterichor: @raees_mason: @madridista: @ishmael_strix: @demon_diane: @jason_ford: I think I got everyone...

The interior of the MRF chopper was silent, aside from the occasional crackle of the radio and the omnipresent whirring of the rotors above. As the miles sped by beneath them, Kaede began to grow antsy, eager to release pent-up energy and aggression on an enemy, any enemy. Finally, she turned to her pilot, a professional-enough guy with the personality of soggy cardboard. "Any intel on where we're headed?"

The man shrugged nonchalantly, not even bothering to look over from his instruments. "Some prison. Apparently there's alarms going off both inside and outside; seems like a jailbreak."

The chopper finally swept over the prison grounds, giving the occupants a good view of the unfolding drama below. "Really. We got deployed to deal with that?"

"Hey, remember, it's about quality, not quantity," the pilot joked, dryly. "Weapons locker's in the back, we've got_"

"Save the ammo," Kaede snorted, as she got up and headed for the hatch. "If they're worth my time, then the guns wouldn't make a difference." Stepping to the open aperture, the MRF specialist leapt from the chopper and plummeted the nearly hundred feet to the prison grounds, counting on her extreme durability to absorb the impact.

Stepping out of her tiny crater, she took stock of the situation, seeking her first opponent.

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Ishmael_Strix

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#12  Edited By Ishmael_Strix

@demon_diane: @soterichor: @raees_mason: @assassinatrix: @jason_ford:

The tactical ferocity and timing of the masked Blue Bloods was an impressive display that emphasized their growing reputation. And while Ishmael's knowledge of the group was far from extensive, as they say, 'game recognize game,' and 'Gothic; recognized Gothic.' Their grit, dedicated militarization and precision were all trademarks that had been compiled among the urban ash heap that they all called home. Or in the case of the Last Republican, had, once upon a time. But now here he was, hot on the heels of the mercurial militia. The front line, the pointmen, the crash and bash confederacy tasked with the opening barrage and systematic infiltration of Fremont county's infamous Supermax prison.

True to form the super-soldiers employed a versatile array that combined a hard hitting frontal charge with a surgical implementation of explosives and Ranger-like expertise. As demonstrated by their stylish ascension up and over the fortified wall of the facility, after having blown a decent size hole through its foundation.

No Caption Provided

'zzzzzzip' Ishmael quickly consulted the unknown contents of a nondescript duffel bag carefully tucked under his seat, coming out the back doors unmasked, but cleverly adorned in a set of Federal digs. Ballcap, lite-windbreaker and black dress pants forming his impromptu disguise. Allowing the mysterious Strix, added by the instantaneous confusion - gunfire and explosives, unimpeded access beyond the first checkpoint. Not quite a sprint yet clearly more then a jog, the forgotten son of Gothic disappeared into the smoke and chaos.

"Why the f*** arent you at your post?!?! A giant goddamn shit storm just landed on our heads and your out here dancing through the f'n tulips!" Frantic, desperate to maintain some sense of control, an overweight and overpaid guard all but screamed his panic stricken questions. "I...I got lost in the shuffle." Ishmael turned his head almost completely around and pointed, directing the guard's attention over his shoulder and behind his current stance. "I" he started, before sharply swimming his hand forward un-holstering the fat bastard's revolver with his right, and reversing his entire position behind the guard with his left arm free to coil around the neck. Momentarily seizing control of the man's body, using him as a shield while gunning down two more officer's as they responded to the crisis. Before finally kicking out the lethargic man's knee, letting one round bark, and blowing the back of his head out through the front execution style.

Ishmael proceeded with rapid caution, concealing his requisitioned weapon under the free floating flaps of his jacket. Pulling it with the grace of an old west outlaw, whenever the occasion arouse as he ventured deeper and deeper into the isolated labyrinth that was the ADX, barely breaking stride while leaving an eccentric trial of ghosted souls in his wake. What, or whom he was searching for, a secret to all but himself.

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Soterichor

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@raees_mason:

Cassandra regarded the usually charming Mason warily, her anger in fact rising as the smile spread on his lips. Was he mocking her? His face rang no bells, nor would his name. However he looked, however he smiled, there was no comfort to be found in her eyes. She didn't know him, and there was nothing he could say to win her over.

Nothing except those apparently magic words. In virtual slow motion, she watched his lips move, heard them. "...break you out." And once he'd spoken them her own mind went to work, rationalising his appearance in a slightly more favorable light. He'd shown up deliberately for her, claimed to know her, he wanted to break her out...Complete trust was a ways off, but for the time being she put herself at relative ease with the fact at least she'd no longer be a prisoner. With no memories of her own he was as good a lead as any. Maybe he knew why she was locked up. And who she was before awaking, clueless, no more than one hour ago.

"Fair," the officer-turned-terrorist relented, snatching the keys from the air and turning them on the lock with a satisfying click and began sliding open. The cell door rattled, deafeningly loud, and seeming to stretch on for ages, to her mind concerned with remaining quiet and undetected.

Rapture.
Rapture.

Simultaneously, as if on cue, a multitude of telltale silvery veins began to stretch from under the black dress, creeping along her arm until settling into a fine piece of jewelry on her wrist and hand. Her eyes widened in shock, but as bizarre as it seemed, something about it felt...natural. This wasn't a foreign body acting on her. How she knew, she couldn't figure, or even what exactly she recognised. Quietly, though, she mouthed its name in a hushed whisper.

"Rapture..."

"Cassandra..." It was only then that it'd occurred to her that, until Raees said it, she had no idea who she was, not even a name to call herself by.

It wasn't even a choice, really. She stretched her hand, feeling the cold steel of the pistol through the thin gloves just as a nearby explosion rocked the building. Smart boy. Cassie nodded in acknowledgement. He'd certainly planned well, she thought, assuming it some sort of diversion on his behalf to cover their escape.

"Listen, I'll follow you, but there's something I need to take care of first." She hadn't forgotten the guards. "Now, go," she ushered, physically pushing him a ways, not fully trusting and unwilling to show him her back.

Speaking of...Again her attention was called to the dress. In it she felt exposed; certainly not prison break attire. And to the shoes on the floor. Even less fitting for running, though she hated equally the idea of tramping around these prison floors barefoot.

After a moment's consideration she started back into the cell, snatching the heels with her free hand and returning to Mason's side.

First, vendetta. Then escape.

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lowlaville

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@ishmael_strix: (lowlaville here... Diane is my alt --- can you please NPC her until I am able to post? )

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Jason_ford

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#15  Edited By Jason_ford

@demon_diane: @raees_mason: @soterichor: @ishmael_strix:

(Just making sure to tag you all so everyone knows what's going on)

@assassinatrix:

Only four of the Blue Bloods decided to intercept the woman, the others were already heading out to get the real mission done. They didn't even hesitate to get into combat, firing at her head particularly. Judging by her drop she had enhanced durability, and probably strength, but if they hit her eyes they could possibly blind her by hitting her eyes, or simply cause brain damage due to the sheer force of military grade bullets hitting her skull, then that might be good enough. If not one of them already threw a grenade towards her feet to give a bit of an extra punch to it.

Meanwhile the others from the main group continued blasting at the walls with numerous explosives to make holding in prisoners in this place anymore almost an impossibility, especially these particular criminals. They also began to start shooting at the heads of every enemy they ran into, intent on going through this swiftly and with the trained skill that made them qualified for Red Mask to hire them in the first place. And while their actions were fast, deadly and noticeable. The Blue Bloods from the third truck were silent and swift, quickly and invisibly opening every door and lock to release the criminals into the outside world, as well as preparing any vehicles that these people had as escape units.

Jason watched from the distance receiving the information that he couldn't gather, informing him of the superhuman who had decided to interfere. So Red Mask figured it was time to go ahead and put someone into action, he carved a hole into the side of the supermax with his particle beam rifle as the three blue Bloods with him took off at full speed to enter and release any especially dangerous criminals. Peters and Red Mask headed after them, somewhat slower. Peters used telekinesis to move quickly and get ahead while Jason simply moved at a sprinting rate. It would still be a little while before they reached the base, long enough to see what else would develop but not so long that they couldn't interfere.

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Raees_Mason

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Left brow raised, and his head subtly tilted to the side, the Showstopper's gaze held hers, the surrounding shadows casting a darker shade over the deep blue of his eyes. "I suppose", Raees compromised with a shrug, his gallant features welcoming a bold sense of purpose, "Take care of your business. In the meantime, I'll do my best to minimize any obstacles in our way". A subtle inclination of the head, and a faint smile of personable charm, Raees turned round and strode off, straightening his tie while his mind worried for an amnesiac Cassandra. She hardly seemed to remember anything. She remembered nothing in fact. It both startled and concerned him, but he'd never make it clear, he'd never let it show, not escape was their priority.

All but abandoning his assigned mission to capture Madridista, Raees strode past cell after cell, avoiding the nearby officers who rushed to upper floors at the sounds of explosions. Explosions he heard but ignored for now. "Possibly a planned mass breakout", the Londoner thought, sneaking from shadow to shadow until he'd reached one of the ADX's lowest levels; the control center. Swinging it's door open, the Showstopper was quick and efficient, pointing his Mont Blanc Meisterstück Moon Pearl pen at each member of the maintenance crew and peppering them all with fin-stabilized hyper-sonic darts, their nanites blocking the genes and enzymes responsible for maintaining memories in their brains. And as they hurried out the control center convinced that they were in a place they'd never seen, Raees past them with a mesmeric ease and air of mystery that only seemed to heighten his presence.

No Caption Provided

Sliding into the nearest seat and reaching into his breast pocket, Raees pulled out a small cellphone-sized device; the V.T.(Viral Transmitter). A tap and flick of his thumb here and there and it's touchscreen glowed alive. The prison's cameras and security systems would be a hindrance. But he couldn't afford to disable the entire system lest he free every single inmate there. He'd have to be selective. And so he was, only the systems that'd get in his way. Typing a myriad of codes into the V.T.'s screen, he lay it on the desk and waited. Soon it begin emitting ultrasonic transmissions to the electromechanical devices responsible for sound in computers. The speakers, microphones, even the sound processors. He was transmitting data, malware that not even a CD-ROM boot could delete. And it was malware designed by him and his partner; Julia Baars.

"This malware can make changes and cause problems even after the infected system's been erased, reinstalled and reconfigured", her voice echoed in his mind. "Because we've designed it to infect the basic input/output system of a computer, a fundamental piece of software stored on a small memory chip on the motherboard", her voice echoed a second time, his memories of her contributions to the V.T. drawing a smile on his face. "And the malware, it's operating-system independent. Digging down into the lowest levels of a computer, infecting it from there despite removal attempts. Even computers disconnected from networks aren't safe. You can even remove Bluetooth and Wi-Fi cards, that won't stop anything. All our malware needs is a computer's sound processor or speaker or microphone. Air gapping'll accomplish nothing".

Once done, Raees gathered his things, slipped the V.T. back into his pocket and strode out into a prison devoid of working security cameras and specific security systems. And while the prison's upper levels experienced explosions and intrusion, the lower levels were still calm and largely unsullied. Raees searched and searched, missing Madridista by an inch as the Dragon stealthily maneuvered in the shadows with almost supernatural skill while Raees past him by. Eventually, he'd returned to Cassandra, ready for their escape to be made. "There's a car waiting for us outside. Though as we head to the upper levels, I gather things will be growing a bit more mental", he pointed out with a suave indifference to the explosions and rumbling above. "Well then, shall we go?", he asked, ready to depart.

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ownagepants

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#17  Edited By ownagepants

@ishmael_strix: @madridista: @assassinatrix: @lowlaville: @soterichor: @jason_ford: @raees_mason: Andras leaned back on his cot his prison shirt thrown to the side showing off muscles that were clearly formed from manual labor although just as clear was his affinity for battle as his chests was heavily scarred . The aging man scratched his beard mostly black but tinges of grey had started to appear like the the first flowers in a bed to wilt a clear sign that the rest would soon follow right now he was relaxing to images of a previous battle how many had he killed in that one he remembered losing count after 50 two times that day he still could smell the blood and the gunpowder . He also remembered the explosions they were a little more vivid then usual Andras stepped out of his mind as he realized these were not explosions of the past they were happening in the present Andras stood up as guards ran past him shouting it didn't take the old wolf long to figure out what was going on .

Andras touched his ear and a voice crackled to life " What is it agent x is there a problem ?" Andras smiled at the question " not for me but it seems as though there's a prison break going on " the voice was silent for a moment " understood agent don't engage your to remain undercover this op has taken months to prepare we can't risk ruining it over a few criminals ". Andras's grizzled jaw set into a grimace at that this voice was telling him he couldn't kill the sole reason he accepted the offer to become a governmental agent was that they promised he could kill without the interference of heroes and that he would be free from any kind of justice as long as he got the job done now he was being told not to do the one thing he's been craving since he was stuck in this prison . Andras smiled a sharkish grin as he responded to the voice " as long as no one survives my cover isn't blown so there shouldn't be a problem with me giving this place a little aid ".

" Agent do not engage I repeat do not engage " the voice barked in his ear he didn't bother to listen " if you want to stop me feel free to come here and do so it'll be fun to see you try " as Andras spoke he put his shirt back on and turned to his bed and reached into it revealing that their had been a slot cut in the center and hidden in the bed was a long blade in its sheathe . The voice once again penetrated his ear " ok agent you are permitted to engage but you are expected to protect your prisoner cover " Andras continued to smile as he pulled out the blade and set it to the side under it were hair bands he grabbed them and in a few quick motions he tied his unkempt black hair into a pony tail and after that he reached in the bed once more and in his hands emerged black sunglasses he put them on his head and something about it felt right he always liked sunglasses they were an easy way to keep the blood out of his eyes. He turned towards his blade the sheathe was black except for an image of a shark that had been drawn on it the blade inside looked average black except for the sharp ends which were silver but it was far more then a simple blade his calloused hands wrapped around the weapon and he turned towards the door it wasn't the jail cells from the movies this was a max prison the door was several inches thick not a gap to be seen anywhere on it his hand touched the hilt for a moment before his blade flashed and returned to his sheathe at a speed that to the average man it would have appeared he had never drawn .

But the door held the proof as a giant slash appeared on the bottom of the it you could see clear through to the other side his blade flashed three more times and connecting slashes appeared on the door forming a rectangle almost his height and with a slight push he sent the rectangle falling from the door he leaned down and stepped out once again the voice invaded his ear " we'll take car of any security cameras that spot you do what you can to remain slightly incognito". As Andras considered that a guard came around the corner and looked at him and the giant hole in the door " what the hell" the guard shouted loudly, Andras considered him for a moment " well that's handy he said to himself and he dashed for the guard at the same time the flustered guard reached for his weapon Andras was faster and as he entered melee range his fist flashed and slammed into the guards face faster then the rest of his body fast enough to instantly kill the guard as a large cracking sound came from the impact the guards body slumped to the ground unmoving and he began to pull off his own clothes and then he stripped the guard .

He put on his Newley acquired uniform a now internal smile gleaming within him as his outside maintained a neutral expression he loved the feeling of instantly ending a life that had survived so many years he didn't like long tortured killing he felt it was the same as playing with ones food better to chow down and eat as much as possible as he walked toward the loud sounds he got the feeling that this was going to be a lot of fun.

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Ishmael_Strix

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#18  Edited By Ishmael_Strix

@assassinatrix: @soterichor: @raees_mason: @demon_diane: @ownagepants: @jason_ford:

By now the National Guard - as well as any vigilante with a savior complex - would be on the way towards the overrun Supermax prison deep in the heart of Fremont County. Heroes, spectators and even the local media wouldnt be far behind. The display of overbearing violence, while effective, was also lacking in stealth based subtly.

At least in the traditional sense. As fashionably nestled inside the facility's internal labyrinth of instantaneously locked doors and sunless windows, an unknown agent of disruption and advanced technological tactics, had subversively employed his own secret initiative. A piggy-backed extraction. Which was expertly camouflaged by the wall of combat enacted by the Red Mask and his hired militia. Drawing the immediate and heaviest bursts of attention, and understandably so. Their use of explosions, gunfire, and death, had all perpetuated the need for a fully attentive response. One that had been openly met by an unidentified MRF agent. Her theatrical arrival containing the hallmarks of a super or metahuman.

Meanwhile, Ishmael had swiftly advanced inside the building. "Where are you?" The internalized question was like a continual pulse repeatedly pinching the Last Republican's sub-conscious focus. His balanced, yet urgent investigation of cell after cell, needed only a glance through the bullet-proof slots to confirm their unimportant and irrelevant contents. Some cells however had already been opened, offering some of the most violent men in the country free unimpeded retribution upon the blue-collar men and women of the facility. Ishmael navigated the nightmarish social implosion created by the insurgent chaos and illustrated by the piles of burning mattresses, periodically checking the 'inked' map along the parallel of his forearm until making his way down to the 'Black Hole,' the infamous Z-Unit.

No Caption Provided

Ishmael's speed and movement had expeditiously grown, his footwork as he entered the area commonly referred to as the fatal funnel, an entryway point fully observed targeted by a handful of dug-in officers, was nothing short of spectacular. A virtual one-man army but even the remolded militant Strix could not simply overrun an entire quadrant with cinematic gun-fu siege tactics. "I GOT THIS!" her voice was familiar but unexpected, as was the downpour of concrete and debris as the massive figure known as Diane crashed through the ceiling, landing inbetween the Last Republican and the strategically staged squad. With an impressive burst, planting her feet after having landed in a crouched position, the crimson skinned juggernaut shoulder charged the impregnable wall of men like a cocaine fueled All-pro linebacker from the 80's. Freeing Ishmael to once again resume his search.

"Here! This one!" he rumbled. Diane slowly swam the hidden Strix to the side with her free arm, the latter still clutching the unconscious collar of a disabled officer, as she seemingly intending on dragging the man's limp body all over the facility. Unfortunately for him what the red-skinned demon had in mind would be much worse. With unbridled strength she swung the body into and ultimately through the unbreakable door of a particular cell. The man inside, humbled in spirit and broken in body, was quickly swallowed up in the embrace of Ishmael Strix. His gloved finger brushing the unkept strains of hair from the prisoner's face. "Come brother..............tis time to go...."

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Assassinatrix

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"What's the situation down there; do you want me to call in backup?" The comm in Kaede's earpiece buzzed.

"Don't bother," she responded, noticing the four Blue Bloods advancing in her direction. "No indication of metahuman abilities or advanced armaments on the hostiles."

Smiling, she stalked towards her attackers, giving herself time to size them up as well as demonstrate that, despite being alone and unarmed, she had no fear. As they opened fire, she threw up one arm to cover her gaze and leaned into the barrage as one might into a rainstorm. Her eyes were as durable as the rest of her, but that didn't mean that bullets bouncing off them wouldn't be unpleasant and distracting. The grenade, however, was another matter entirely. The shrapnel couldn't puncture her skin, but the laws of physics were still in effect, and the force of the explosion was enough to pick up her rather light frame and hurl it through a nearby window.

"You sons of..." Kaede growled under her breath, as she picked herself up out of the remnants of some kind of table and brushed the glass shards out of her hair. Glancing about the room, she noticed a few lengths of steel piping running from floor to ceiling, and took the time to tear a roughly three-foot piece from one of them. Leaping lightly back through the window that had accommodated her inglorious entrance, she once again faced the four Blue Bloods. "I can do this all day," she taunted, brandishing her makeshift bludgeon in their direction. "I think you're gonna run out of grenades long before then, though."

With that she charged, pipe in hand and murder in her eyes, aiming to get close enough to bring the weapon against the nearest foe's head.

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Jason_ford

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@soterichor: @raees_mason: @ownagepants: @ishmael_strix: @assassinatrix:

@assassinatrix

The Blue Blood automatically reacted from his training attempting to block the pipe with his forearms and keeping his chin tucked in as he slung his rifle around his back. His feet slid against the ground a few inches as it hit him and he nearly fell. It was rare that someone had enough strength to do that, but he knew he had more as he could lift two tons. However also knew that her durability was going to make this fight annoying, possibly one that neither could win

"I got this, continue on." He said quickly attempting to slam his foot into her ankle followed by a kick at her kneecap as the other three Blue Bloods with him ran off to release more prisoners. Since she wasn't even phased by the bullets the only good chance was trying to dislocate, pull muscles, or damage nerves. Or perhaps just get in her a hold until Red Mask arrived. He hoped that maybe hitting her joints would cause her to reflexively bend over where he could grab her by the neck.

Meanwhile:

The last set of blue bloods arrived sneaking through completely invisible and with their sounds absorbed by the special cloth made by Jason. They went straight for the most influential of this place to try and get them out via one of the trucks this would barely take but a few careful minutes unless they were interrupted by something.

Red Mask and Peters were next, he observed the situation, Blue Blood dealing with one superhuman. The others are working on the mission it seems, releasing criminals. Which means right now the biggest threat is that woman. I'll let the Blue Blood deal with her a little longer, and while he does Peters can make this base's walls break like a tortilla chip.

"Take down the walls." Red Mask told the psionic.

He grinned, as he lifted one of the guards off his feet by his clothing and started slamming him around the place and into the walls. It was completely unnecessary violence, he could have just hit the walls with a truck or something a bit sturdier. But after all he was a sadist. And occasionally, somewhat stupid. Red Mask leapt in front of him and shot down a set of guards who nearly tried to turn Peters into swiss cheese.

"Pay attention will you." Red Mask said looking for more targets.

"Having too much fun here!" Came the reply with a deranged laugh as the wall began falling apart as he continued to slam the remains of the guard into it.

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ownagepants

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#22  Edited By ownagepants

@demon_diane: @soterichor: @raees_mason: @ishmael_strix: @assassinatrix: @jason_ford: He didn't expect to see a demon here they rarely assisted mortals in the mundane unless compelled to and this one didn't seem to be compelled to do anything it didn't want to he had fought a few demons here and there one or two of his scars had come from the tougher fighters among them something about this excitied him he had a thing for finishing strong being quickly she wasn't looking at him and pretty soon she wouldn't be looking at anything . Andras silently dashed towards the enemy still dressed like a guard his firm hands gripped the katana and his blade flashed the instantaneous movement was aiming for her neck with the intent to sever her demonic head from her shoulders his sword traveled faster then even the more developed humans could hope to see he already knew there were more enemies in the cells next to him once his blade took this one out they would be surprised probably try to attack and they would fall next but right now all he really wanted to know is "What color is her blood going to be ?"

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Soterichor

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@anybodyeverybodynobodybutevenifnobodyelseespecially@raees_mason:

In no time at all the prison had descended into chaos. Whatever Mason's distraction (as she assumed it), he sure went all out. Although, for Cassandra, this wasn't necessarily a good thing. Sirens, piles of floored bodies, and even more running the halls arguably did more to hamper her goal than making a clean break without the diversion.

It was quickly apparent that Cass was on her own side. She fought off guards intent to kill on sight; with the way things were going, why wouldn't they be? A prison break on that scale was downright crisis-worthy. But the other inmates offered no solace either. More than half her time was spent fighting off her fellow escapees who, despite their shared status, didn't see her as one of them. Cassandra was vaguely aware that this might have something to do with her being a woman in a tight black dress, but remained unfamiliar with her own past as an officer of the law.

As she pressed on, intent on finding one of the officers who brought her in, Rapture was her guide. Whatever its mechanism for doing so was unknown to her, but she heard it. A hint of a whisper, not a hard language that she could understand, but a semblance of a feeling calling out to her. This way...

—Leading her right into a swarm of inmates and a few officers. Despite their gear the lawmen and women were severely outnumbered. She didn't remember much but the Sanguine never lost the nuances of fighting.

Her heart pounded. The world slowed. An instant later Cassandra was no longer in a maximum security prison in Colorado. Transported to a different world...Memories, experiences she couldn't recall, but that her body evoked perfectly, as if she'd practised every movement billions of times each. In her mind, she was no longer in 2017 at all. Physically, she felt herself transported to the year 66 A.D. No longer a nameless, amnesiac nobody fighting her way through guards and inmates in a Fremont County prison, she was an elite warrior of the Sicarii hunting her mark through the legion of a Roman colonia, and her target was in sight amid the crowd.

Her weapons of choice? The shoes in her hands. Fortified for durability and sharp beyond all sense, she had no problem piercing shields and armor, let alone the flesh of anyone standing in her way. She drove through virtually faceless foes, aided by skill worth more than two millennia and tactics she didn't fully understand. However good she might've been, anyone workng through skill alone couldn't make it through the horde untouched; but Cassandra ensured that anyone who did touch her lived just long enough to regret it.

The entire time her mind kept at least half-focused on the officer, but between the enemies in front and those coming from behind she never got any closer. Well past frustrated with the fruitless endeavor Cassandra growled and raised Mason's gun. Several shots rang out. The entire block went dark as all the lights shattered.

Silence.

A muffled scream.

The thud of slabs of concrete. Illumination from below. Where Cass and the other officer previously stood, carved holes cast just enough light from the lower level for some to feel comfortable enough to continue fighting.

The conflict resumed in earnest, but Cassandra had no part in it. She held the officer pinned to the floor, and dug the sharpened heel slowly, inexorably into his gut, starting a slow seep of dark red ichor. And of course, the screaming.

She slapped him.

"Shut up!" she hissed in a whisper. "Y'shoulda played nice earlier. I'm not gonna kill you now. I just wanna know what happened to me. Why am I here? What did I do?"

The officer stammered a bit. She slapped him with her free hand.

"O-okay, okay! You were brought in on domestic terrorism...for-for a string of moves o-on...on several cities. Los Angeles, Gothic, New York...several other places. Listen, I don't have all the information. We were just responding to the call." As he spoke a gradually rising confusion and curiosity showed in her face, and he seemed to notice it. His own countenance, in response, turned to one of realisation with a hint of cunning. "You can find out more by going to the courthouse. Any courthouse. Just...if you wanna find out, that's where you go."

Cassandra's eyes seemed to shimmer, then her entire face lit up. She was ecstatic! Everything seemed to be falling into place now. Between Mason and the courthouse, the nightmare of uncertainty would soon be behind her.

She smiled as she drove the sharpened heel into his jugular. Payback for earlier. And she stayed with him, holding him firmly yet gently, while he bled out and finally expired. There was a certain freedom to the act, a certain lightness taking her with the act, but she didn't exactly take joy in it. Now it was just something she could put behind her.

Now, she could see Mason and they could get out of there.

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Raees_Mason

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The heels of his black oxfords clicked and clacked as he strode, echoing louder as he neared Cassandra and the prison guards she'd disposed of. Slowing his stride as he drew closer, his left hand running along his dark blue tie, smoothing it as the sight of deactivated security cameras and the like drew a clever smile upon his face, Raees sighed, pleased with his hacking and destruction of the ADX's security systems. Glancing at the prison guards and the puddle of blood that caressed them, the Gold Standard dismissed them and the irony scent of blood with a look of disarming insouciance. Instead, the piercing blue of his eyes met the deep amber of Cassandra's, "Seems you've taken care of business", the Londoner paused, "It's time we take our leave".

And on his palm, rested a grenade. Alternating between a poised cool and bold heat, he tossed the grenade at a nearby wall, it's pin clanging on the floor as layers of concrete were blasted apart. The dust settled in the air, and in it's wake, a gaping hole through the prison wall. "Let's go". Stepping out the enormous hole, Raees moved with the same magnetic sense of purpose worn by his suave features. And the manner of his stride, as though no one would stop them, as though no obstacle remained, cast the presence of one who refused the mold of a typical spy. He was neither overly cautious nor reckless, but carried himself with a charming self-assurance. And at the sight of the many intruders orchestrating a mass break out that'd captured every prison guard and officer's attention, the Showstopper could not help but smile.

No Caption Provided

"A fine distraction", he said to himself, simply walking, hopeful that Cassandra was right behind him. His agency superior, Lara, wouldn't at all be pleased that he'd prioritized Cassandra over the capture of Madridista. With a mental shrug, Raees gave himself to that fate as they neared his modified Mercedes AMG Vision GT. Opening the passenger side door then his own, he slid into the driver seat. Fingers coiled round the steering wheel, Raees glanced at Cassandra, his face softening and growing somewhat wistful. She truly didn't remember anything. "Domestic terrorism, those are serious charges, Cassandra. The kind that'd make anyone else think you're absolutely mental, and me more-so for breaking you out", he began, "But then again those who think of you that way don't know you like I do", he paused, implying something, playfully keeping her in the thrall of expectancy.

"And I know you couldn't have committed those crimes. And if you did.. they couldn't have been done willingly. They might even have something to do with you not remembering me, or anything else". A turn of the ignition key and the Mercedes' experimental WW32 engine awakened with a primal roar. "But that's what I believe, and I'm a bit biased towards you in this case", he paused, his smile holding back a tame laugh. "If you want, you can come work with me at my intelligence agency. They'll hire you regardless of the crimes you're said to have allegedly committed. I slip in a good word to my superiors and it's a done deal". Driving off, the Showstopper suggested, "Think about it".

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The Blue Blood automatically reacted from his training attempting to block the pipe with his forearms and keeping his chin tucked in as he slung his rifle around his back. His feet slid against the ground a few inches as it hit him and he nearly fell. It was rare that someone had enough strength to do that, but he knew he had more as he could lift two tons. However also knew that her durability was going to make this fight annoying, possibly one that neither could win

"I got this, continue on." He said quickly attempting to slam his foot into her ankle followed by a kick at her kneecap as the other three Blue Bloods with him ran off to release more prisoners. Since she wasn't even phased by the bullets the only good chance was trying to dislocate, pull muscles, or damage nerves. Or perhaps just get in her a hold until Red Mask arrived. He hoped that maybe hitting her joints would cause her to reflexively bend over where he could grab her by the neck.

Kaede grinned the grin of the truly demented as the Blue Blood skillfully blocked her strike. Good form or not, her blow would have shattered the forearms of a normal man. It was looking like there may be some metahuman action to be had here, after all. She didn't attempt to block his strikes at her lower extremities, trusting in her own durability to protect her from damage and taking the opportunity to gauge the strength behind his blows. Though his kick didn't do any appreciable damage to the tissues of her knee, the force still knocked it out from under her, dropping her down into a half-kneeling position.

"Yeah? Let's see exactly what you 'got,' big boy," she said with a smirk, as she swung her length of pipe in a swift upward arc aimed directly between the Blue Blood's legs. Regardless of it's effect, she would then immediately reverse the arc and swing the length of metal back up and around at his head.

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There was little left standing in their way. Although two new variables were put into the field they couldn't take on every one of his men at once, especially as some of them were still invisible as they released the other prisoners, the most dangerous of which were moved into one of the trucks which was about to leave. However there was still a matter that Red Mask would have to deal with soon enough as he watched Kaede and the Blue Blood.

Kaede grinned the grin of the truly demented as the Blue Blood skillfully blocked her strike. Good form or not, her blow would have shattered the forearms of a normal man. It was looking like there may be some metahuman action to be had here, after all. She didn't attempt to block his strikes at her lower extremities, trusting in her own durability to protect her from damage and taking the opportunity to gauge the strength behind his blows. Though his kick didn't do any appreciable damage to the tissues of her knee, the force still knocked it out from under her, dropping her down into a half-kneeling position.

"Yeah? Let's see exactly what you 'got,' big boy," she said with a smirk, as she swung her length of pipe in a swift upward arc aimed directly between the Blue Blood's legs. Regardless of it's effect, she would then immediately reverse the arc and swing the length of metal back up and around at his head.

The first attack hit and a crunch was heard as even his enhanced structure cracked. He only mentally noted it however, even though he instinctively flinched, but he was no longer capable of feeling pain like a normal person so it was not enough to hinder him. The second attack however he knew he had to put up a defense against. He may not have been killed from it or feel pain, but he didn't really want to have his head ripped off any time soon. Pain or no pain that was not a pleasant thought. He back stepped, despite it the pipe still managed to slam into his jaw bone dislocating it and breaking it in a few places as well as turning his head considerably from the force. He wasn't entirely sure what to do, neither one could truly kill the other.

Jason's watched almost with an amusement, it was like watching a rag doll fight a brick. No matter how many times they hit each other neither could win this. "Peters, go after the powered woman. Probably an agent, do it fast so that the others can finish their jobs."

The psionic stopped slamming the corpse against walls and looked at the woman, "Looks like fun." He began to walk calmly in her direction, "Yoohoo! You won't get anywhere hitting him you know. He's just going to heal back, and he doesn't recognize pain like you will. You do know pain right, let's find out." Peters said smiling as he lifted up a piece of broken wall along with several pipes which all floated into the air and suddenly darted towards her at high speeds.

The Blue Blood fighting with the woman saw what was happening and decided she would be taken care of, taking this distraction to dart off towards the rest of the jail to open up any remaining cells, the few that would be left at this point. The real difficulty was never really getting them out, that didn't take much time at all. It was always getting away.

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Despite the attempts of the very few heroes and the prison's guard they were simply too overun. The Blue Bloods were nearly finished and the truck of the more dangerous ones had already started driving off vanishing from sight quickly.

One of the Blue Bloods called it in to Red Mask, "We released the last of them and they're taking the prisons vehicles to escape if they don't have some other method. We've already given them the points of escape that they need to make sure at least most of them end up hidden and back into the world. We've also managed to obtain significant amounts of weapons and equipment while we're at it."

Good. All is going well, now it's more a matter of my next target. He thought, "Leave several bombs where they'll threaten the maximum amount of remaining guards, if anyone tries to leave or come after us set them off." He ordered to them all who quickly set about work and started boarding the trucks to leave and become invisible once again, or simply remaining invisible and racing off away from the location.

Red Mask shouted at Peters as he got aboard one of the trucks as well, "Time to go! Wrap this up and get out of here!"

The sadistic psionic frowned but shrugged and began to fly away from the battle using his telekinesis to board one of the trucks with a grin on his face as he watched the prison that once held numerous dangerous men and was now left with corpses and guards becoming the prisoners of their own base.

I'm sorry world. But it's for your own good. You may never see why I do these things, but some of you know, and you will all benefit from my efforts one day. Jason thought holding his jaw set as he contemplated the damage these monsters would do once they reached humanity. No, they wouldn't all make it. But there was enough of them that that wouldn't matter.

(OOC: Hope that's ok. i did say I was gonna wrap it up and this makes sense as the only person directly fighting my people even was ok if I ended.)

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The force behind Kaede's punch was enough to shatter the section of wall that the psion flung at her, but her speed was no greater than that of any other human, and she simply didn't have enough time to react to all the incoming pipes. "Hey! Ow, ow, oww!" The almost comedic metallic sounds of the metal projectiles impacting her drowned out all other sounds, as the barrage of plumbing remnants knocked her on her back. By the time she pushed herself angrily to her feet, both her original opponent and her telekinetic newcomer were well on their way to departure.

Though her first instinct was to give chase, her training and discipline kicked in, and she stepped back and evaluated the greater battlefield. It looked like the prison's attackers, whoever they were, were satisfied with what they accomplished and in the process of withdrawing. The MRF special operative could survive being hit by a truck at full speed, but she couldn't run one down. It looked like this op was over.

"Come in for pickup, area should be secure momentarily," she snapped into her communicator, not quite able to disguise the disappointment in her voice. "Multiple targets escaping, but if they were here for what I think they were here for, we'll get another chance."