You don't have permission to post in this thread.
[right [pic http://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/a0/70/f3/a070f38ac55605808a483cf43952d791.jpg] ] The blow to his head was strong enough to leave an uncomfortable throb of pain and the familiar, sticky feeling of blood staining his otherwise brown hair. It wasn’t too serious, noting permanently debilitating, but it was enough to keep him passive until heir reached the containment room. Logan gave a minimal struggle as his hands were bound to the chair with metal cuffs, once again wrenching his injured shoulder into an uncomfortable position before finally letting him rest. The Agents were clearly more concerned about the woman than they were of Logan. Wise: from their brief encounter Logan knew the woman was a fierce threat and he doubted he’d seen the best of her abilities in their limited scuffle. But that didn’t mean Logan was one to be underestimated. His attentive eyes ghosted over the room, taking in every detail in attempt to find out just where he’d been taken. The badge on the Agents’ uniforms read “SHIELD,” and though Logan had never heard of these people before, he recognized their formations and tactics as some form of military unit. Perhaps a subsidiary of ARGUS? But then, why intervene in Nightwing’s bust?
The blue-clad, blonde soldier – emblazoned with enough American symbolism to make Superman weep – was eying him from across the room. The notable emblems, the trademark weapon, the righteous behaviour… clearly this man was a Hero, though one Logan had never heard of before. That meant they weren’t in Bludhaven anymore. Nightwing was about as protective over his city as the Batman was. No outside influence from other heroes unless invited in, and Logan severely doubted that Nightwing will willingly work with the likes of this guy.
Logan watched intently as the Hero offered some sort of chemical spray to the woman. She begrudgingly accepted, not seeming threatened by the strange substance, but when the same was offered to Logan he gave a very different reaction. The wounded martial artist kicked out at the Hero’s hand, aiming to knock the vile to the ground. His days as a guinea pig for The Facility had taught him not to trust anything he couldn’t put a name to. More than once he had fallen for the promise of mercy or the deceit of a kind gesture, only to feel the sting of his own naivety. Logan refused to take anything these bastards offered, until he could be sure it was safe.
[b [#000066 “Keep that away from me. If you want me to take anything, you better be willing to use it on yourself first [i Hero.”] ] ] Logan retorted bitterly, tensing his wrists enough to feel the sharp bite of the cuffs against his skin. He wouldn’t be surprised if his resistance earned him another strike from the guards, but his position was clear. Whatever these people wanted, he wasn’t going to make it easy for them.
By the setup of the room and the way in which he and the woman were treated and confined, it didn’t take much to deduce why they were brought here. The Hero was clearly seeking information and even if Logan was in the rare mood for sharing, he knew didn’t have the answers the soldier was looking for. He didn’t know where he was, how he got there, or why he suddenly appeared in their storage room. He didn’t know who the woman was, where her partner went, or how many others were here. What he did know was how absurd his own story would sound: while running from his home-town vigilante, he was mystically transported to the inside of a secured building and attacked by rival operatives who were coincidently infiltrating the building at the same time? No one would believe him. Nothing he said would spare him from whatever these Agents had planned, so he may as well get the worst over with.
[b [#000066 “You got some questions for me [i Hero?] Ask away! This’ll be a breeze compared to Batman’s interrogations. There’s nothing a boyscout like you could do to top the Dark Knight.”] ] Logan challenged, assuming his words would hold some merit. He wasn’t counting on the fact that these people had no idea who he was talking about.
[left [pic http://i1144.photobucket.com/albums/o482/Tiger_Is/scar_zpsjatyigug.jpg?t=1450553284] ] Crimson strands of hair danced across Lyssa’s vision as the young thief waited in the cool breeze of the outdoors. Her hand was stand with the blood that continually seeped from her side, but aside from the dull fatigue in her stormy eyes, the woman appeared not to notice. She stood there in silent resolve until her pursuer arrived, instantly reaching for his next weapon and confirming Lyssa’s judgements. He was ruthless and bloodthirsty – all evidence pointed to that. He attacked first in the building, not bothering to see who his unfortunate victim was, then hunted her down despite his partner’s obvious need for assistance , and now that he had found his prey he was already contemplating the slaughter. With Lyssa’s violent history, it wasn’t rare for her to see the world through a veil of blood and mistrust, though for her brother’s sake she hoped there was some redeeming quality to this stranger that she was overlooking. Otherwise she would be struck down by the cold metal of his blade and Logan would be left to his own impending fate.
When the dark figured expressed his doubts regarding the piercing wound in her side, Lyssa held her tongue. He hadn’t killed her yet, which meant he was at least entertaining her offer, but she had to be careful how she proceeded. She knew this stranger was looking for any excuse to dismiss her and her only wise course of action was to prove him wrong. Lowering herself to one knee, Lyssa removed her blood stained hand from her side and raised it, palm forward, in the air was a sign of passivism. Her other hand slid into her back pocket, retrieving two items: a small pen knife and a pocket lighter. Her movements were slow, but deliberate – clearly not intending any threat. The blade itself was too short and dull to be a practical weapon, but it had a wide, smooth surface that was perfect for Lyssa’s needs. Holding the blade and lighter loosely in front of her so as not to convey any sense of threat, she lowered her bloody hand to unhook a small leather pouch from her belt. Lyssa kept her eyes on the stranger, watching for any flicker of movement that would betray an attack. Her sharp untrusting glare was only accentuated by the deep scars that ran through her left eye and down into her cheek.
It was only as her present task demanded her focus that Lyssa finally tore her eyes from the stranger, forced to rely on her other senses to predict an attack. She opened the leather pouch poured a small quantity of its contents onto the blade. The white powder seemed harmless enough, but when ignited by the lighter’s flame, the blade was engulfed in a white hot spark that lasted several seconds before fading, leaving the metal with a dull, reddish glow of heat. Lyssa lifted the torn, bloody fabric of her shirt, just enough to expose the wound in her side. She didn’t even flinch when the red-hot blade was pressed firmly against the torn flesh, effectively cauterizing the wound – sealing the skin and stopping the blood flow to prevent any further weakness. She then retrieved her tools and climbed back to her feet, lowering her blood-soaked shirt back down to cover the singed skin.
[b [#660000 “The wound is no longer an issue.”] ] Lyssa replied, returning her sharp gaze to his. Though still tired from her earlier blood loss, the effects of her injury wouldn’t get any worse, and her inability to feel pain would help Lyssa push through any ill effects of the cauterization. She would worry about infection and treating the second-degree burn once her brother was safe.
[b [#660000 “I’ve successfully infiltrated nine banks, six secured government facilities, and four maximum security prisons in the past ten years. There is no lock I can’t pick, no door I can’t open, and no security system I can’t bypass. Add to that the fact that I can’t feel pain and won’t be deterred by injuries. Unless you feel confident you can get in and out of there on your own without being seen by that army that took my brother, then I’m the best chance you have of saving your friend.”] ] Lyssa stated plainly; shockingly composed for a young woman who was facing down the man who had already tried to kill her. If anything, she was starting to look frustrated as each second that passed was another her brother spent in the hands of the enemy.
[b [#660000 “I’m obviously no threat to you. What have you got to lose?”] ] Lyssa demanded, leaving the decision in his hands: to kill her or enlist her help. But if he did decide to let her live, she needed information. It was becoming more evident that Lyssa was a stranger to this world. She and her brother didn’t belong here.
[b [#660000 “All I need to know is who I’m up against. Those people back there… they aren’t with ARGUS. And they sure as hell aren’t working with Nightwing. Who are they? Why do they want my brother and your friend?”] ]
Blood was filling her mouth as it ran from the wound in the side of her face, tongue cut shallowly as well as her cheek being actually pierced. It would be just another scar, but at present she wasn't so sure how SHIELD would treat her now, if they would pump her for information as she bled out, or if they would offer her medical assistance and then take faith in her health to [i then] threaten it. She kept her lips parted gently, letting it seep out between her teeth. With the wound and the pain there wasn't enough suction in her mouth to spit with the open wound, so she leaned to the side for a moment, opening her mouth and rather disgracefully let the mouthful splat on the floor, hissing and drawing her cut tongue over her lower lip, golden eyes looking over the agents.
Her eyes were on the blonde man that broke the line of agents first, with the star on his chest, different than the SHIELD insignia with the eagle. That was on his arm, and the insignia A on his other shoulder. She knew exactly who he was, eyes dodging up to him as he approached, spangled shield in front of him, held out defensively and offensively, other hand hovering by its seam, ready to use it as a weapon should she move. But the German wasn't [i stupid]. She had raised her hands already, and had a knife in her side. But he wasn't wrong to mistrust her. Gweniviere would but hate the man more if he didn't treat her as a threat. His eyes moved down to the knife in her side and up to her raised hands again.
Two agents came quickly, stripping her as well of her weapons, knives and gun. "[B Don't- [i don't] touch that one!]" the German snapped at the one who reached for the one in her side, throwing her fist into the agent's throat. He stumbled back, choking, and the second grabbed her arm, Gweniviere instinctually resisting, throwing it down and snapping her elbow into his face.
The captain then intervened, wresting her arm down and behind her, the hard edge of his shield pressing against the side of her head and rammed her against the wall. "[+blue Stand down, Lieutenant-!]" he ordered.
Gweniviere resisted a moment before resigning to her position. "[B Fine, [i fine]-]" she snapped, sounding impatient, huffing her breath out. "[B I'm finished. Just don't [i touch] that, you dimwits!]" The woman's speech was severely slurred due to the laceration in the meat of her cheek, blood pushing out from the wound with each puff of breath, the side of her mouth slanting even more severely with the cut of the remaining muscles in the side of her face.
She then took a deep breath, eyes sliding over to her unknowing companion, the stranger, as he too resisted, knocking about the agents. Apparently based on their equal containment of the other, that he was't SHIELD. This surprised her. She had been waiting for the day that these statistics came up in her life, the likelihood of two operations clashing and then fucking the other over. Guess it was today. Having heard him around the corner, acting without an established visual on the man, she had attacked him blindly, thinking he was a SHIELD agent.
They were both lead then to containment, a small room down two halls and around a corner, down a narrow, doorless hallway that was easy to cut off. A bottleneck, more than anything, that the wide super soldier behind her was this close to not fitting comfortably down. Once inside they were seated each in their own metal chairs and held at gunpoint. They simply cuffed the stranger with the bo staff to his, but they had to wait to get a different pair for the super soldier, soon locking the thick metal binds over her wrists and leaving them sitting on her lap.
The Captain remained the whole time, glancing over the unknown Hydra agent who had claimed he didn't know what was going on. He wasn't wearing any insignia, which made sense, but not having [i heard] of Hydra had caught him off guard. His dark blue eyes turned back to the familiar, angular face of the androgynous woman and her sharp, yellow looking eyes, his hands folded in front of himself. He stayed silent, eyeing her for a long few moments before he would alter his attention to the stranger.
The Lieutenant inhaled and caught a bit of blood in her throat, coughing wetly for a long few moments, pale face flushed with the effort, until the press of obstruction left her. Gweniviere cleared her throat and looked up at the silent super soldier. "[B Are you going to babysit me all night or are we waiting for friends?]"
[right [pic http://i.imgur.com/YnxdMl6.jpg?1]] He glanced back and narrowed his eyes at her, "[+blue We'll get to that.]" and glanced at the both of them, an obvious hesitation in his eyes. Captain America was looking at two wounded individuals and felt some misplaced obligation to somehow stop the bleeding or this or that... He would need them lucid to start the interrogation. Soon an idea occurred to him and he reached in his pocket, taking out a skinny spray bottle. "[+blue Here,]" Rogers said, approaching the familiar lieutenant first . The woman pulled her chin away sharply, but allowed him to spray on the clotting chemical.
It was a newly minted chemical that worked on the surface and slight interior of wounds. It clotted what blood its spray could reach, temporarily helping bloodloss, or at least assisting it perhaps. He did the same with the wound in her side before turning to the stranger and approaching him with the same solution. "[+blue May I-?]"
[center [pic https://onestoryslinger.files.wordpress.com/2013/09/untitled.png]]
[left [pic http://i.imgur.com/JI3Us7o.jpg?1]] Laurent slipped through the vents and the ducts, following the sound of the escaping woman. If she could find her way out, so could he. And so he followed. He had to get out, free, and [i then] he could return for the Lieutenant when he could next. The smell of blood was in his nose, lingering in the back of his throat, on top of the smell of dust and industry as he traversed, the tips of his boots squeaking slightly on the already tacky and sticky leavings of a wounded woman, seeping into the layers on the treated metal.
But his thoughts kept returning to the stranger back with the Lieutenant, and the number of agents that he had heard coming, and the wounds she had already sustained. She was a resilient creature, their now shared superiors made sure of that with their treatment over the decades, and so he had little faith in her failure or submittance to death or anything near that. But it was his lack of control over the situation, his not being there that was beginning to gnaw at him in frustration. He couldn't control it. Another plan that had gone haywire because of these people. These people being the agents, the whoever they were who they had run into and mistaken for SHIELD operatives. That much was clear to Laurent as he followed the female, considering her escape it was only fair to believe that they weren't SHIELD affiliated, or they would have known the building, they would have run down the halls, not taking the secretive, nondescript and secluded way of the ducts systems. And now he followed the opportunity the one he had wounded had given him of escape. He didn't care about her, he cared about the one who had retaliated and wounded the Lieutenant. A push of rage welled hot and heavy in his chest, immediately dropping to his stomach as he tried to quell it. He would not have her dead because of some meager mortal.
There was a brief drop, and then the sound of a crash as the woman seemed to have cleared the way for him. Next smell of fresher air hit his nose and the semi-darkness of the late evening found his eyes from the pad of claustrophobic shadow that he had been in prior. He then pushed himself out and got to his feet, having seen the body of the woman waiting for him. Why was she waiting for him?
Once out, the asset's hand hovered by his next cosen throwing knife at his hip, ready should she make any sudden movements this time to strike truer than his previous.
The raven haired foreigner arched a slender brow at her, looking entirely unimpressed and gave her a glance over, listening to her words. A little dramatic, he figured, of an assumption. But given the circumstances, he would allow her the conjecture. But her attack on the Lieutenant made her life matter as little as the other of them did. Laurent's hand closed on his throwing knife, slender fingers wrapping around the hilt. All he had seen was her knife fly towards the Lieutenant's head, and he had left. She was lucky he was [i listening].
But he stayed his hand as she continued, glancing her over. She knew her disadvantage, clearly, this woman, at the very least. Leave it to a mortal woman, so disgustingly dedicated to someone else, to beg for their life as she did when just as quickly she seemed the type to throw hers away for that brother of hers. A twist of disgust pulled at him just looking at a creature like that. Laurent shifted his position on his feet, snorting lightly. "[#003300 [B You can't do anything for me with that wound in your side.]]" Laurent said, keeping his tone cool and reserved as if reminding her of her condition, sneering at her with dismissal. "[#003300 [B Why should I bother?]]" the trickster challenged.
[left [pic http://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/a0/70/f3/a070f38ac55605808a483cf43952d791.jpg] ] Logan instantly realized his mistake as he felt his arm pinned against the woman’s side. He braced himself for the familiar pain of shattering bone and tearing flesh, knowing it would take only a sharp twist of her hips to break his uninjured arm, leaving him utterly defenseless. Logan noticed the shift in the stranger’s posture and predicted the elbow strikes before they came, but with his right arm limp from the stab to his shoulder and his left arm viced against the woman’s side, Logan could do nothing to shield himself. Still, the fierce blows that bloodied his face were a welcomed surprise compared to the alternative.
Logan struggled, trying to pull his arm free when the fierce growl of his second opponent called his attention. A flicker of movement from above told of Lyssa’s artistic escape, but Logan knew his sister would be far too concerned to abandon him here. If she didn’t take this opportunity to leave, that man could catch her and Logan wouldn’t be able to protect Lyssa – not while he had his hands full with this woman.
[b [#000066 “Lyssa move!”] ] Logan demanded, his orders falling on deaf ears as he watched his sister’s blade cut through the air and pierce his own opponents cheek. Hindered by his distraction, the elder Thorne was thrown to the ground and swiftly rolled away from the vile woman’s reach. He watched in instant panic as the strange man lunged for the torn ceiling tile and pulled himself up through the very hole where Lyssa had fled. If he found her…
[b [#000066 “No! Leave her alone!”] ] Logan hollered, no doubt drawing the full attention of the approaching guard. The protective older brother moved towards the gap in the ceiling before the unforgiving *click* of a well-aimed gun stopped him dead in his tracks. Logan released his blade and opened his palms to the woman in a feeble attempt to pacify her. It wouldn’t be the first bullet he’d taken on his sister’s behalf, but having only barley survived the last one, Logan wasn’t willing to risk his chances a second time. Not that he had much of a choice – this woman had attacked him with a blade without a word of warning. She clearly cared little about his well-being and Logan severely doubted his compliance would save him now. Where the hell was Nightwing? That Boy Scout would never stand for this!
[b [#000066 “Whoa! Take it easy! What the hell do you want?”] ] The thunder of footsteps are they entered the corridor silenced any answer to Logan’s questions. Logan remained where he was – his good hand in the air, palm open in surrender, while his injured arm hung limply at his side. He was expecting Bloodhaven Police Department, perhaps ARGUS, but the uniforms that stepped into view, surrounding him and the woman were unfamiliar to the eldest Thorne. It was pretty clear by now that his capture and detainment were inevitable, but if his sister managed to evade her pursuer and escape this hell, she’d come back for him. Lyssa never failed to dig Logan out of whatever bind he found himself in. It was that thought alone that kept the scarred man compliant as the Agents detained him… at least as [i compliant] as Logan’s fierce temperament allowed.
[b [#000066 “Get the hell off me! And get that fucking gun out of my face!”] ] Logan growled, struggling with the inciting pain in his shoulder as the Agents roughly forced his arms behind his back. Once bound, he was stripped of all weapons: his Bo staff, knives, handgun, etc. The woman received a similar treatment, making Logan second guess his first opinions of her. Clearly this was not some overzealous vigilante hunting him down under Bloodhaven’s payroll, though this revelation did little to ease the man’s mind. It seemed these Agents assumed he was working with that lethal bitch and although Logan had no idea what this [i Hydra] was, he doubted the affiliation was going to earn him any credit with this crowd.
[b [#000066 “Hydra? What the hell is Hydra? Call the Bird! Let me talk to Nightwing! He’ll… Dammit, I said GET OFF!”] ] Logan’s rage got the better of him and all attempts to pacify the situation dissolved with his final shout. He threw his weight into the Agent beside him, checking him to the ground and creating enough room to send a forceful kick to another Agent’s ribcage. The valiant struggle only succeeded in injuring two guards and pissing off the rest. Within seconds, Logan was wrestled back under control and one of his victims wrought his sweet retribution with the blunt end of his gun. The strike to Logan’s temple had enough force to daze the rebellious fighter, just shy of knocking him unconscious. With the fight literally knocked out of him, Logan was forced to follow the rest of the Agents as they led him and the woman to containment.
[right [pic http://i1144.photobucket.com/albums/o482/Tiger_Is/scar_zpsjatyigug.jpg?t=1450553284] ] Lyssa had lingered at the tear in the ceiling only long enough to see her attacker bound towards the gap. Ripping her eyes away from her brother, she was forced to leave him to his fate and make her own escape. The air ducts were confined, only permitting enough room to crawl through and thus eliminating any chance Lyssa had of a swift and silent getaway. The only benefit was that she would be able to hear her attacker closing in on her, and with her small stature she should have an easier time navigating the cramped space. Lyssa made her way through the ducts as they led through the building, leaving a regrettably easy-to-follow smear of blood as she went. When finally, Lyssa reached a vent leading to the outside, she rolled to her back and kicked at the grate as hard as she could, violently breaking her way into the open air.
By now the wound in her side had leached quite a lot of blood, and though Lyssa was unable to feel the pain, the fatigue of blood loss was heavily weighing on her. She slipped out through the grate and leaped to the ground, collapsing to her knees as she did. It was a valiant effort to crawl though the labyrinth of air ducts in her flee to freedom, but the strange man was mere seconds behind her and the younger Thorne lacked the physical strength to keep running.
With a hand tightly clasped over her bleeding side and a misplaced fearlessness in her eyes, the redheaded thief pulled herself to her feet and turned to face the duct she had just emerged from, knowing her pursuer would surface any second. Her breathing was slow and heavy from her draining escape and the blood still seeped between her stained fingers, but nothing shook that sharp gleam in Lyssa’s eyes as she boldly faced the man who wounded her.
[b [#660000 “Stop!”] ] Lyssa demanded, hoping her weary voice sounded as strong as she meant it to.
[b [#660000 “Why are you trying to kill us? You clearly don’t work for those bastards that attacked my brother before, so why would you…?”] ] Lyssa stopped herself, knowing she had a very limited amount of time before this man tired of her questions and went for the kill.
[b [#660000 “Your friend is still in there. Sounded like you didn’t want to leave her any more than I wanted to leave my brother. I can get her out.”] ] Lyssa offered. Unable to run, unable to fight, negotiation was the only card in her hand, and as much as she wanted that bitch to rot for what she did to Logan, Lyssa’s only chance to save her brother was to survive this. Logan’s life was worth far more than a grudge.
[b [#660000 “You let me live, let me save my brother, and I’ll save you friend.”] ] Lyssa offered boldly, knowing that if this man refused, she was facing her own fate.
Gweniviere's hand was hard, but her stance was yet in transition, so when he tucked his foot against her chest she stumbled back to gain her guard again just enough to note his lunge towards her again. The super soldier's strong hands clamped around his when it flashed towards her body and stopped the stab from going too far, able to for a split second maneuver it towards her extreme left side, low over her hip, however couldn't with her leverage stop it entirely, but prevented it from going elsewhere, despite the painful twist in her side. The Lieutenant's scarred lips pursed with a grunt of pain as he tried to jerk it upwards, but thankfully her grip on him prevented much progress in widening that wound. It was still a puncture stab wound.
She then took one step into his guard, solidifying her own stance, and trapped him next to her by wrapping her arm around his in her side to immobilize it. The Lieutenant then crooked her left elbow to strike him once, twice if she could manage it to get him to release her. She was beginning to feel the panic of impending proximity of more unseen SHIELD boots, not only of her wounds. She had worked with worse, but it was up to a numbers game if they all showed up with her wounded like this.
The distant sound of agent boots were already barely reaching her over the low alarm, Gweniviere hoping it was her imagination getting the better of her in this adrenalin rush. "[B [i Scheiß!]]" the German hissed as she struck the agent who had trapped her.
Laurent stopped, his eyes on this 'Lyssa' as his weapon sank into her side just as he wanted it to- but seemed as a [i surprise] to her, but a nuisance. Not to mention it had landed much lower than he thought it would, but perhaps he misjudged distance in his lunge around the corner and his other hand went to his side when- he heard the agents as well. His head snapped to the side, "[#003300 [B No, [i no].]]" he growled, turning back just as he saw the snap of the other woman didge into the- cieling- how- strange. That- weren't they SHIELD agents?
His eyes followed her, lunging forwards then to intervene in Gweniviere's more involved conflict just as he saw the strange woman throw his knife back at the Lieutenant. "[#003300 [B No!]]" he shouted as if ordering the thing to stop, his hand already in the fruitless motion of stopping the projectile with unsummoned and suppressed kinetics.
"[B Lo-]" Gweniviere snapped in what sounded like anger, pulling her head at the last second on reflex, feeling the knife slam into the side of her mouth and cheekbone, bouncing off. She twisted, using her weight and strength to at least with this leverage point throw the stranger to the side and off of herself, pressing her hand to her side with a harsh, dismissive gesture towards her cooperative. "[B Out!]" the German shouted again.
Laurent's eyes dodged from the ended scuffle and then up to the escape route that the woman had taken. It was better than nothing. He would come back. That was easy enough- he would [i force] the strange little doctor to take the handicap off. He wished so [i hard] he had his collar off and then turned to run, then run back, gaining momentum, and vaulted up into the cieling and vanished behind the other woman.
Anger was in his eyes as he pulled his feet underneath himself and then moved after the woman. The ducts, he knew, would lead out [i somewhere]. He would go after the other woman, or ignore her entirely if he couldn't find her. She didn't matter, after all, it would only matter as a point of revenge. Why were they here- who [i else] was here on SHIELD territory, why... He was torn between ignoring the woman and going after her. It would be simple to overpower her, even if she was so high on adrenalin that it wouldn't matter. It would be a simple matter akin to a spider. Incapacitation, and the threat thereof, was incentive enough. He had learned, thanks to the Lieutenant, that death threats worked little. And he himself was further proof, with his own disposition, that they didn't.
[center [pic https://onestoryslinger.files.wordpress.com/2013/09/untitled.png]]
[right [pic http://th03.deviantart.net/fs43/200H/f/2009/137/4/e/Scarred_Girl_by_Samiross90.png]] The Lieutenant, now freed, stumbled back, hands pressing over the wound in her side, having the knife nearly torn free before she closed her hand around it, keen on keeping that blood from flowing any more without the obstruction. The tall, white haired woman stood and backed against the near wall, drawing her last resort gun at her side from its holster. She cocked it and held it towards the man, blood seeping between her teeth on the one side as she bared them in a weak sneer. Her expressiong was already made crooked because of the scar pulling from the right side of her mouth, same side hit with the knife.
But just as she did, the agents appeared around the corner and raised their weapons. Shouts of 'stand down' and 'drop your weapon' came from the rough, laden voices of the agents as they in uniform approached them. Gweniviere cursed again in German underneath her breath and uncocked the weapon, dropping it, and raising her one free hand, the other occupied with holding the blade.
Another, more specific, female agent recognized the woman specifically, "[i And the other, Lieutenant!]" she shouted, jabbing the gun at her. Gweniviere's golden eyes slid towards her with an irritated sneer and slowly unfolded her long, bloodied fingers from around the handle and raised it as well. The demanding agent's attention then turned to the stranger. "[i Hydra rats.]" she hissed, "[i Get them to containment.]"
[center [pic http://i1144.photobucket.com/albums/o482/Tiger_Is/8b969841-8451-456d-aa68-b4cf3647a2fd_zpslcz2niju.jpg] ]
[+blue “Nightwing in pursuit of two arms suspects, headed South towards the shipyard. Logan Thorne aka Striker: advanced martial artistry and proficiency with various weapons. Lyssa Thorne aka Shade: Skilled infiltrator, highly evasive, and invulnerable to pain. Closing in on them now.”] The vigilante reported as he retracted his grappling line, drawing him up to the roof of the apartment building that overlooked the alley. He took note of Logan’s hesitation, assuming the protective brother would stay behind, giving his sister the opportunity to escape, as was typical for the elder Thorne. This time, however, it appeared that Lyssa was forbidding the self-sacrificial act and dragged her brother towards the port.
Nightwing sprinted along the roof, casting frequent glances over the edge to keep his targets in sight as the familiar crackle of his communicator responded to his earlier report.
[i [+red “Affirmative Nightwing. Do you require assistance?”] ] The monotonous voice of Nightwing’s successor offered in curtesy, knowing the elder hero’s answer before it was uttered.
[+blue “Negative Robin. I have history with these two.”]
Quickly approaching the edge of his roof, Nightwing spared a last glance at his targets, strategically planning his decent so as to cut off any possible escape for the siblings; but as he peered down at Striker and Shade approaching the mouth of the alley, the pair suddenly disappeared.
Nightwing skidded to a halt, wasting no time in grappling to the ground to investigate. There was no trace of either sibling: no sound of rapid footsteps, no heavy breathing from the pursuit, even the wet footprints on the pavement ended abruptly right where Nightwing had witnessed the pair’s disappearance. According to his wrist computer, there were no traces of Boom Tube activity, nor Zeta radiation on scene, not that the siblings would have access to either of those forms of transportation anyway. There were no visible signs of a breach, but Nightwing could feel it. That subtly pulsating energy that didn’t belong in the otherwise vacant alley.
[+blue “Looks like I’m going to need that assistance after all Robin… Alert Batman and call the Flash. If this is what I think it is… we’re in a lot of trouble.”]
[left [pic http://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/a0/70/f3/a070f38ac55605808a483cf43952d791.jpg] ] The discomforting disorientation lasted for several seconds before a deafening alarm brought them back to their present predicament. On instinct, Logan whipped out his Bo Staff and spun on his heels expecting a strike from their pursuer. He was stunned to find that, instead of the menacing vigilante’s shadow descending from the rooftops to engage the pair, Logan was greeted by a row of computers and desks, the roof of a small room, and a locked door. He didn’t know how got here – it seemed impossible to be trapped in the narrow confinement of a storage room when seconds ago they were sprinting towards the mouth of an alley – but the sounding alarm gave him very little time to get his bearings.
[b [#660000 “Where the hell…?”] ]
[b [#000066 “Doesn’t matter. Lyssa, get us out of here.”] ] Logan ordered, clasping his palm over his ear in attempt to drown out the deafening sound. His other hand tightened around his Bo, tensed and reason for action should any threat arrive before their escape.
Lyssa slipped her set of lock picks out of the tensor bandage she kept bound tightly around her forearm. With it, she removed the keycard sensor at the door and worked at disabling the locks that kept them trapped in the storage room. It wasn’t the first time Lyssa’s talents had broken them past these advanced types of security locks, but it had never taken her this long.
[b [#000066 “What’s the hold up? Nightwing will be here any second!”] ] Logan growled in frustration, knowing their narrow window of escape was rapidly ticking away.
[b [#660000 “I’ve never seen a system like this before! It’s strange, it’s… got it!”] ] Lyssa called with a final twist of her tools. She slipped the picks back into her arm band and took cover behind the door frame as her brother took the lead.
As soon as Logan entered the corridor, the angered shouts and firm demands of the guards told him he was surrounded. An arrogant smirk played across his features as he tightened the grip on his Bo staff, itching for a fight. It wasn’t usually Nightwing’s style to let civilians do his dirty work, but Logan wouldn’t complain. It had been far too long since he’d had a challenge like this. So far, only four guards had arrived to contain the threat. With his sister still hidden in the doorway, Logan raised his hands, keeping his Bo staff clutched tightly in his left while feigning surrender. As soon as the guards got close enough, Striker lashed out. He hit the first guard in the chest with enough impact to expel the air from his lungs; a second strike to the temple knocked him out cold. The second and third proved a little more of a challenge and engaged him simultaneously while the forth kept his distance, raising their weapon at the intruder and circling the group for a better angle.
With all eyes on her brother, Lyssa silently slipped out of hiding and positioned herself behind the fourth guard, knowing that as soon as her brother had dispatched his opponents, he’d be an easy target. With perfect timing, Lyssa’s hands snapped out, clasping over the guard’s mouth and nose in an unshakable vice, suffocating the man into unconsciousness while her brother disposed of the remaining two guards. With four unconscious bodies left in their wake, Logan took his sister’s hand and pulled her down the labyrinth of hallways in hopes of finding some escape.
[right [pic http://i1144.photobucket.com/albums/o482/Tiger_Is/scar_zpsjatyigug.jpg?t=1450553284] ] Having emerged inside whatever building this was, the siblings had absolutely no idea how to find their way out. They kept their quickened pace, constantly on edge by the blaring alarm that not only impaired their ability to think, it masked the sounds of any approaching threats. Lyssa tried to ignore the pit of fear that was building in her stomach as their mad dash for escape seemed a little too familiar. The last time Logan and Lyssa found themselves navigating blindly through the unknown maze of hallways towards an uncertain exit with guards on their heels, it was when they escaped the Facility ten years prior. While their bold flight as teenagers was successful, the evidence of their trails was permanently etched in their faces and arms as a constant reminder of the price their freedom cost. A price Lyssa wasn’t sure she was prepared to pay a second time.
Just as the two neared a turn in the corridor, Lyssa’s fearful thoughts were interrupted by the sharp, painful groan of her brother getting stabbed. Logan felt the blade pierce his right shoulder and tug him forwards where he raised his Bo just in time to block the incoming strike and force his attacker back with a kick towards her chest. With his dominant arm weakened by the pain of the stab, Logan was forced to discard his Bo in favour of a one-handed weapon. The hunting knife he drew was certainly not his weapon of choice – despite Logan’s ruthlessness in battle, he avoided killing when he could – but these were desperate times. These two attacked viciously without pause, not even giving the siblings the chance to surrender. They certainly weren’t working with Nightwing!
[b [#000066 “Lyssa, get out of here!”] ]
Not wanting this woman to give this woman the chance for a second assault, Logan lunged towards her with knife in hand – a sharp jab to her gut before twisting his wrist and slashing up towards her chest. Unfortunately, Logan knew nothing of this woman’s skill or training, he was severely weakened by the pain in his right arm, and his mind was split between his own fight and that of his sister, giving his opponent a vast advantage.
The elder Thorne was right to be concerned. Lyssa felt a slight pressure against her left side and peered down to see the blade embedded in her skin with a rapidly spreading spot of crimson staining her tank top. She covered the wound with her hand, more to distract from the sight than to stall the blood flow. It would take several minutes for the familiar fatigue of blood loss to affect her and until then Lyssa showed no further signs that she had been injured. There was no wince of pain, no laboured breath, no contorted features, only a look of fearful fury as her eyes danced between the man and woman who had attacked them.
Lyssa was nowhere close to the fighter her brother was, and as much as it pained her to leave him, she knew she was just a liability if she stayed. The thundering of heavy footprints could now be heard amidst the blaring alarms – evidence that more trouble was on its way.
Prompted by her brother’s demands, Lyssa bounded to her left, using her natural agility to spring off the wall and grab the edge of a ceiling tile with her fingertips. From there, she swung her legs with enough force to break through the tile and pull herself up into the safety of the rafters – a feat that proved her injured side did little to hinder her movements. Once in the perceived protection of the rafters, Lyssa cast a final glance at her brother to find him fairing far worse than she’d hoped. The bloodstained tear in his shoulder was enough concern, never mind leaving him to face two lethal attackers on his own!
[b [#660000 “Leave my brother alone, you bitch!”] ] Lyssa hissed, impulsively tearing the blade from her side and throwing it towards the menacing woman through the hole she created in the ceiling tile. She was desperate to injure or at least to bait the woman away from Logan, but with the building’s guards swiftly approaching, it seemed Logan’s capture was inevitable. His best chance… his [i only] chance, was for Lyssa to escape and come back for him once it was safe.
Unfortunately, right where they landed, was protected by a motion sensor. It was a computer storage room that had been left securely shut down for the night, requiring a security pass to lift the nightly security lockdown, or a really smart person to get in without one and not trip the alarm systems. Not mentioning either's capacity to [i be] smart enough to achieve coming and going undetected, the twins had unfortunately been landed said room without any fair preparation. As such, the technology in place reacted as it was programmed and as such voila- a hell of a lot of noise.
This said noise attracted the attention of the agents in the area as the word got out through the shortwaves from their security feed that there was a blackout in _ sector, [i and] a visual on intruders in the hard drive room _____.
[center [pic https://onestoryslinger.files.wordpress.com/2013/09/untitled.png]]
[right [pic http://i.imgur.com/IjenJkz.jpg?1]] Laurent glanced around as he traversed the halls, reaching out with his senses, anything about the woman he had been with. It wasn't often that he worked with her. They had only the one cooperation before now- when his demons had come back for him. Even the thought of them still brought on the cold feeling of their fingers raking down his back, seeking to reveal the yellow surface of his spine to them to sap more of his body for their [i use]. He swallowed the thought, a muscle leaping in his jaw as the raven haired immortal shut his teeth. Whenever he so much as thought of them, their faces, the grating, hissing language he got the same vulnerable shock in his stomach. A shift in his stomach that sent a wash of that feeling that made him weak for a moment. Despite his survival, he reminded himself, [i survival]. He turned his head sharply to the side as if to banish it. This was not the time, Laurent reminded himself, eyes sliding to the side as he slipped his way back through the empty corridor where the Lieutenant had disappeared after leaving him to his responsibilities...
[left [pic http://th03.deviantart.net/fs43/200H/f/2009/137/4/e/Scarred_Girl_by_Samiross90.png]] Now there, having slipped inside and up beside her, Laurent's eyes flickered over the names on the files as Gweniviere's fingers moved over them. She glanced up as the familiar shape of Laurent finally shifted into her peripheral vision as he leaned forwards... "[#003300 I don't see why Hydra hasn't sent me alone on this. I do not need to be [i minded].]"
The woman's scarred lips twisted in irritation and she exhaled slowly. "[B I don't see the file at all,]" she replied in her low, rough voice, clearing her throat quietly and shut the drawer she was at currently. "[B I'm worried that someone else has it... someone we don't want to have it.]"
"[#003300 Kiev reported that she would have it. Where else would it be?]"
Gweniviere sighed, sounding impatient with him and his statements of the obvious, as if she would know. "[B Not where, I don't think, but with whom. However, there is a number of people who could have it.]" she murmured, taking a step back, shaking her head. Her hand reached up and pulled off her military cap, brushing her other hand over her head and through her white hair. "[B Felix will be destroyed- or targeted... Now we need to find [i her] and find where she sent it and hope it hasn't gone anywhere else.]"
Laurent looked at her, swallowing a little. He didn't care about the little man, Dr. Arndt, but this was their mission, and he now worked with the Austrian. Now that he was a part of this organization he would need to start working with them. It had been some time since he had been a part of a larger whole, and even longer since his abilities had been valued, used, [i wanted].
Suddenly the alarm started going off and Laurent flinched at the harsh sound ringing at a piercing level to him, being auditorially oversensitive, and hunched his shoulders, hands leaping up to cover his ears a bit before he clenched his hands and forced them down, ignoring the instinctual show.
It was a low sound and his eyes quickly dodged to Gweniviere, both exchanging a glance, each leaping to the conclusion that the other had done something but elected to spend no time [i now] arguing about that, though each had intention to do so after tonight's adventure.
"[B Scheiß.]" the woman swore softly, her mouth curling in a sneer against his hard, judgmental stare. "[B We should go.]" He nodded back at her. It was a quick exchange, but two Hydra agents discovered deep inside of SHIELD facilities, rather two agents at all discovered inside of SHIELD would be highly unfortunate. It wouldn't take them long to recognize the Lieutenant, the scarred woman not only sporting an unnatural height but white hair and sharp golden eyes, and himself the defamed prince. Both of them had attacked their facilities on multiple occasions, though Laurent was the only one who had been openly public about it, had been resolved, determined to have his name plastered across the memory of those events, to be the face of evil just as he was told he was, to be [i remembered] on Midgard if his name was stricken from the history of his home as punishment. And it was only recently that Laurent was beginning to regret these choices. "[#003300 [B Take the collar off.]]" he hissed at her. The Lieutenant shook her head, mouth tight, and continued out of the room. Laurent's hand seized her upper arm and yanked her to a stop, "[#003300 [B [i Take it off!] I can get us out of here.]]"
She pulled out of his grasp, "[B [i No].]" and continued.
His mouth twisted into a sneer. As always, his plans never turned out, there was always some wrinkle, and he would fail. But these were thoughts for another time, the Lieutenant clear she wouldn't listen to reason, bitterness swelling in him at her. He wanted to [i succeed] and they wouldn't let him. For how they begged him, for how he was [i implored] they were making it difficult to adhere to his decision if he were to continue to be treated as a petulant child. Should they not be grateful? But a quick reminder of who had vouched for him, and he recalled he had broken the trust of the very people who he owed his unwilling life to, bitterly laid his frustration aside, and yet drove it deeper. He hated being in anyone's debt- least of all remembering how much he owed this woman. He fell into motion behind her, roiling with frustrated stiffness, moving down the corridors towards their exit point. The two jogged quietly, until Gweniviere at the lead slowed at the apex of a corner.
The snowy haired agent looked back at him briefly as they halted, both straining their ears over the alarm sounding to hear the pounding of boots if they could, but it was piercing. The sensory overload for the Asgardian level asset was thrumming in his head, shaking it as if to dislodge the sound from how close it [i felt] to his eardrums. He couldn't think, he could hardly think, his previous internal debate and entirely visceral discussion. The Lieutenant heard the bare sound of footsteps, oddly light for the military boots she was expecting from agents, and it only sounded like a couple of people. [i Easy,] the super soldier thought to herself, left hand going to one of the holsters in which she had her knife on that same leg, and the other coming up with her thumb and forefinger extended to signify two to him.
Laurent behind her took his own into his hand, more specifically a small projectile blade as he readied along with her. Both waited for the footsteps to near before the Lieutenant lunged around the corner to strike out at the nearest person, meaning to sink in the blade of her knife, use it as leverage and yank whomever it was nearer for a right hook. Laurent then came around that same corner and launched his knife towards the other body.
[size10 ~//[B A.] Attempt at getting them to meet. If it doesn't work easily or you have a better idea, feel free to bring it up and I would be more than happy to fix it.
[B B.] When I explain the move that Gwen [i wants] to use, when I switch into a different tense, that's just explaining what she wants to do, or what she will be in the middle of doing as your character reacts, or falls prey, whatever you wish. I do this often to explain what the finished action would be and let you do with it what you wish.//~]
[right [pic http://i1144.photobucket.com/albums/o482/Tiger_Is/scar_zpsjatyigug.jpg?t=1450553284] ] [i [#660000 “Logan! Logan help!]
[#000066 “Lyssa! Let me go, you bastards! Lyssa! No! Lys! Lyssa…!”]
[#660000 “Logan! Where are you taking him?! Where is my brother? Logan! Logan help me!”]
Lyssa felt the leather straps tighten around her wrists, ankles, and neck, keeping her firmly pinned to the cold metal table. She kept her eyes glued to the doorway where her brother had disappeared moments before, dragged away by the men in green scrubs. It was the first time she’s seen Logan in months. She didn’t know how he escaped, but knew without a doubt that only some of the blood that stained his clothes was his. The rest likely belonged to the unfortunate souls that stood in his way. It should have frightened Lyssa to see the murder in her brother’s eyes, but instead it was a comfort. It meant that Logan would do anything in his power to find her again. He’d stop at nothing until the both of them were free.
[#777766 “Keep her still, we don’t need her writhing interfering with our results.”] The voice was cold and calculating, completely unbothered by the earlier interruption. It was a voice Lyssa had come to know without doubt; a voice belonging to Dr. Tara Bennett.
[#777766 “Start the recording. This is Nerve Tolerance Experiment number 326 conducted on Subject 14, Lyssa Thorne: age 13. Alright Lyssa, you know how this works. Tell me, on a scale of one to ten, how much pain do you feel?”]
Lyssa screamed as her entire body erupted in white pain. Her voice felt so raw she was amazed she could still make sound. She squeezed her eyes shut and dug her bloody fingernails into the frictionless metal table, desperate from some relief that never came. She could feel the vice grip of their gloved hands trying to hold her down; desperate to calm the young girl’s writhing as she thrashed about on the table. As her screams grew to a deafening volume, a final hand reached towards her face and clamped tightly over her mouth, causing the child’s eyes to fly open, alight with the fear and agony. ]
[left [pic http://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/a0/70/f3/a070f38ac55605808a483cf43952d791.jpg] ] [#000066 “Easy Lyssa, it’s me.”] Logan whispered softly, keeping his hand over her mouth until he could see the recognition in his sister’s eyes. When he finally released her, he watched as the fear and pain that lingered from her nightmare slowly gave way to her waking reality. She sat up slowly, rubbing her wrists where the leather straps once bit into her skin. Her breathing gradually lightened and her pulse slowed as she remembered she was no longer in pain… and never would be again. After what these siblings had suffered through in their youth it was no surprise they still had nightmares, but in the ten years since their escape from The Facility, these afflictions had grown less common and far less severe.
[#000066 “Nightwing just rounded up a crew from the narrows. It’s only a matter of time before one of those bastards sells us out for that heist last week. We need to move. Bludhaven isn’t safe for us anymore.”] Logan pulled his sister to her feet, leaving behind the tattered blanket and worn out mattress that stood as the only piece of furniture in the small bedroom. Still, it was more than Logan had as he spent his sleepless nights on the second-hand futon in their living room. Aside from that, a rust-covered washroom and an ill-equipped kitchen was all that comprised of this shabby apartment. Still, by Bludhaven’s standards, they were living like kings! It would be sad to give it up. But having spent 6 of their past 10 years in intermittent prison sentences, neither of the Thornes would risk another arrest just for the sake of keeping their home.
Lyssa grabbed the pack from under her bed and filled it with whatever clothing her and Logan had lying around the apartment while her brother gathered the weapons: his Bo staff, a few knives, and a handgun with only a couple rounds left. With all their necessary gear packed and ready, the two slipped out of the apartment and into the darkened streets. They had only managed a few blocks before they heard a shout from above and the tell-tale zip of a grapple that send them into a sprint.
[#000066 “Dammit! It’s Nightwing! Move it Lyssa, I’ll hold him off.”] Logan growled, starting to slow down before he felt his sister’s hand latch onto his wrist and pull him after her.
[#660000 “Not this time! We’re near the shipyard, we can lose him there! Trust me Logan!”] Lyssa insisted, refusing to let him take the fall for her like he did the last time Nightwing tracked them down. She pulled her brother towards the port, knowing by the shadows that danced amongst the street lamps that their pursuer was gaining on them. The only lifeline between the siblings and another prison sentence was the labyrinth of shipping containers by the port.
Light on her feet, Lyssa changed direction and sprinted down a narrow alley with her brother stumbling after her. They were so close! Just the alley’s length away from their best hope of escape! But as they breached the mouth of the alley the Thornes were struck by a sudden wave of discomfort and disorientation. The sensation lasted seconds, but by the time the two recovered they were shocked to find they were no longer at the mercy of Bludhaven’s noble hero. In fact, they weren’t in Bludhaven at all! They had stumbled through a breech into an entirely new world... dropping them in an even more precarious position than the one they had just left.
All posts are either in parody or to be taken as literature. This is a roleplay site. Sexual content is forbidden.