ghost in the machine, pt. two | rescue mingle

[whipshots]

WHERE: The southern village, a cave system about 5 miles southwest, and in-between
WHEN: April 6
OPEN TO: Kidnappees (Agent Washington, Tim Drake-Wayne, Cissie King-Jones) & their rescuers (Agent Maine/Brigitte Lindholm; Jason Todd/Stephanie Brown; Diego Hargreeves/Seifer Almasy/Anne Weying)
WARNINGS: Violence & NPC death. Will update further as needed!

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OOC details:

All 3 kidnapped villagers wake deep in a system of caves, firmly bound by rope at their ankles and wrists, with their hands in front of their bodies. It will be extremely dark. They will be able to speak to each other, however, and may notice that their wrist devices have been removed. There will be two canteens of water and two plates of berries and rice. They may begin to loosen or cut through their ropes, but it will be slow-going.

When Nat returns to the village and tells everyone about the kidnapping, it seems a fairly safe presumption that there will be folks wanting to go after the kidnapped villagers, locate them, and bring them safely back to the village. These characters may encounter NPCs along the way as they locate the kidnapped villagers and help them escape.

The odd hit-and-run assaults by the strange doppelgangers had finally escalated: three of their own had been taken. And so of course, others would go after them. Three ragtag groups eventually assembled within the southern village, setting out into the wilderness and trying to trace the path back to the origin of these inexplicable attackers, or at least where they’ve been holding their captives. It’s five miles away, so perhaps about two hours’ walk with all the stopping to check for footprints, broken branches, trampled bushes.

Once the rescuers start working through the dark caves, they start running into aggressive NPCs, and it seems likely a fight will break out.

A list of NPC clones they might encounter:

Anne Weying, Ashley Magnus, Aqua, Bobo del Rey, Brigitte Lindholm, Bruce Banner, Cissie King-Jones, Cougar Alvarez, Foggy Nelson, Frank Castle, Jacob Frye, Jason Todd, Jessica Jones, Joe Miller, John Druitt, John Wick, Kalen, Marian Hawke, Natasha Romanoff, Niska Elster, Oerba Dia Vanille, Peggy Carter, Reyes Vidal, Rinoa Heartilly, Rosa Diaz, Samantha Moon, Seifer Almasy, Thor Odinson, Tim Drake-Wayne

Comments

ANY & ALL RESCUERS (ON THE WAY)

[whipshots]

agent maine | ota

[bloodbathing]

There's a chance that it isn't Wash. There's a chance that there's another tall, blond fighter with a teal wristband around the village. There's a chance that Wash has been out of contact for an entirely different reason. But Maine would rather rescue some asshole he doesn't know than risk not being there for his best friend.

"I told him to stay the fuck away from me. He can go to hell for all I care."
"… They broke my trust in a pretty bad way."
"I'm mad that they left me behind."

The Freelancer growls, low and deep in his throat. Like hell is leaving Wash to fend for himself.

At seven-feet-tall and weighing around four hundred pounds, the massive wall of muscle that is Agent Maine has no difficulty shoving obstacles out of his way. What seems to be the most difficult for him is slowing down. Even with the 'enhanced senses' he picked up from that bizarre vending machine, he still has to look for a trail. He still has to take his time. And it's still fucking infuriating that he can't just sprint to his friend's location.

What he wouldn't give for his HUD and a decent tracking system right now…

[whipshots]

Apart from touching base with Seifer and Anne when they all set out, Brigitte didn't really know the rest of the group. But she knew the agents didn't trust very many people here; knew that she had wound up on that list herself. So this was a chance to saddle up and march out because she wanted to, because there were friends to be rescued, because she could do some good by someone's side as their shield-arm. Not because she'd been told to, or teleported against her will.

And as if the Observers themselves knew it was coming, she'd woken up that morning to a box containing her mace. Her own, actual mace from back home, her initials scratched at the bottom of the handle. She'd picked it up with gratitude, but a prickling unease between her shoulderblades, wondering why.

Here, then, was the reason.

With her shorter legs, she's having to speedwalk beside Maine in order to keep up -- but it balances out whenever he goes barging off through the bushes in the wrong direction, loses the trail, then has to circle back while she's still crouched against the ground, squinting at faint footprints.

"Maine," she calls out, surprisingly stern. (It's the same voice she'd used when ordering Reinhardt around, firm and no-nonsense despite being half the size of these men.) "Stop going too far ahead. You'll ruin the trail."

[bloodbathing]

It's a tone of voice that Maine knows well. Not from Brigitte, but from another woman half his size: Carolina, his leader. It reins the big Freelancer in more effectively than any attempt at physical intervention or pleading possibly could have. Snaps him to something like attention, fists clenched at his side as he exhales his frustration.

He's acting impatient. Letting his temper get the best of him. Allowing his desire to slaughter whatever son of a bitch took his friend to rule his actions.

Focus, Agent.

Stiffly, Maine backtracks. Moves to Brigitte's side and looms over her shoulder as she looks at the footprints. If the Agents had their armor, Maine would be able to tell if the tracks belonged to Wash without a second glance. As it is, he sees nothing to indicate who the owner might be.

But the Freelancer does see something a little ways ahead. Something that his newly enhanced vision hones in on, leaving Maine slightly disoriented by how accurate it is.

"There," he grunts, pointing at the tracks. And he very nearly rushes off again before visibly restraining himself to a (very brisk) walk.

[whipshots]

That brisk walk is more manageable, keeping them to a pace where they can follow that faint trail without entirely tromping all over the tracks and risking muddying it up with their own footsteps. Like Winnie the Pooh, she thinks, vaguely, even as she knows that her mindset is drifting. Searching for something to latch onto.

Past occasions of hiking across this island had been-- not leisurely, exactly, but they hadn't had a firm and important goal like this. Back then Brigitte hadn't had that urgent drumbeat of someone to rescue on the other end, the siren call of villagers taken. It leaves her wired and ready for a fight. When gathering in the village, she'd watched Maine getting ready and considered what might happen to him if he barreled into this utterly alone, and that had made up her mind and resolve to go, if nothing else. He could take care of himself, but there's something to that lack of caution. A bull in a china shop.

"You're going to give yourself a heart attack before we even get there," she says, voice gentler this time. Not a literal warning -- but a reminder, to not to spend up all his energy before they even get to their destination, wherever there is. Who even knows how far away they might be?

[bloodbathing]

Bull in a china shop, indeed. Anger is the most natural emotion in the world to Maine, but it blinds him. Causes him to disregard anything and everything — tactics; his allies; his safety — except for his objective. He can (and has) hurt people he cares for when in a rage. He's done irreparable damage, and he's done it without blinking.

Maine is lucky to have Brigitte by his side. He knows it. He's just—

ᴛᴇʀʀɪғɪᴇᴅ

— furious that someone may have taken his friend. Enraged by the thought that Wash may be hurt somewhere. He needs to be at his friend's side. He needs to have Wash's back. He needs to move faster.

"I'm fine," Maine grunts. A full sentence, albeit a distracted one. And he is fine. His stamina and endurance are his greatest assets, even more than his strength. He's a space marine; he'll keep moving until he drops.

… But he looks at Brigitte, still reined in enough to actually think past his goal.

"Can carry," he offers. It may sound patronizing, though it's not intended to. He could carry her quite easily. Would barely even notice her weight.

[whipshots]

She's not quite winded yet, but she suspects she's going to be, the more they keep charging doggedly on while she carries her equipment. With his longer legs, he's going to keep outstripping her and she's going to have to keep double-stepping in order to keep up. It isn't actually all that sustainable. So when he makes the offer, Brigitte squints up at the wide flat lines of Maine's shoulders, and considers the last time someone actually gave her a piggy-back ride. (Rough-housing and chicken fights in the ocean off the summer coast of Gothenburg; her perched on a young man's shoulders as he waded through the water; trying to wrestle their opponent off-balance; laughing.)

So very different from this context. And yet.

"This is going to look so stupid," Brigitte says, but it's clear that she's considering it, even as she sighs. "Okay. Just-- for a while, unless we lose the trail?"

And maybe if she's perched high enough to smack him in the shoulder when he goes too far, she can make him slow down more easily. Like guiding a warhorse through the field. So Brigitte re-shoulders her shield, leaving her arms free so she can scramble up onto his back once he obligingly kneels down for her to reach.

i still cannot believe that icon

[bloodbathing]

It might look stupid, but appearances are the least of their concerns right now. Maine waits as Brigitte considers. He won't push her either way, even if it does seem like the most practical option to him. They need to move quickly without becoming exhausted; Maine can ensure both by carrying her. Who cares if they look silly?

When Brigitte agrees, Maine immediately turns and kneels for her to clamber onto his back. He holds her legs behind the knees and stands without a hint of effort. He may as well have just shouldered a backpack, not an entire person plus her weaponry.

Then they're off.

The giant Freelancer may not have intended to move any slower with Brigitte aboard, but he does all the same. He doesn't have his hands free to roughly shove things aside; he has to pick his way around obstacles rather than bulldozing straight through. It forces him to move with greater care, and it makes sticking to the trail much easier.

As they walk, Maine admits, "Looks dumber in armor." Meaning that he's done the same thing while both he and the other person were fully armored.

KIDNAPPEES (IN THE CAVES)

[whipshots]

GROUP 1, RESCUING AGENT WASHINGTON

[whipshots]

- Agent Maine
- Brigitte Lindholm

[bloodbathing]

When they reach the caves, Maine finally (willingly and without prompting) slows his pace. He takes one look at the entrance and exhales a hiss through his teeth. Despite being wordless, the sound manages to encompass a whole litany of curses.

Unlike heights, Maine isn't afraid of enclosed spaces. But this? This is a tactical nightmare. And they're walking in with virtually no intel at all. But there's no time to send in a scouting party. No time to do anything but stomp straight in.

Wash could be in trouble. Wash needs their help.

The big Freelancer looks down at Brigitte. It's because of her diligent tracking that they've made it this far, and Maine knows it. He wants her help in this — he works best with a teammate at his side, and he's come to consider Brigitte a steadfast ally. But he doesn't want her getting hurt, either.

So, Maine offers the only thing that he can. He taps his black wristband, explains, "Adrenaline," then he holds his hand out for her to take.

[whipshots]

Brigitte has her lightweight shield slung on her back, the mace dangling from a belt that normally held a wrench and tools. The weapon and armour might be overkill, if their enemies are unarmed like the village attackers had been -- but it's worth playing it safe. Going in as prepared as they can, considering they don't know what the hell those caves contain or what's waiting for them. Her own tactical senses are on edge from the situation; she'd have preferred more information, too.

And so when Maine offers his hand, she slides her gaze down the line of his arm, to that open offered palm. Adrenaline: so that's what Seifer, Anne, and John's powers did. She hadn't been in battle with any of them, hadn't experienced it firsthand.

"Got it," she says, catching his hand and shaking it firmly as if they're concluding business, sealing a deal. (Whatever settles, but perhaps it'll take a little while to sink in.) And then after a few nods round at their compatriots, she follows him inside as he ducks under the lip of the cave.

The group is all there together, of course, but she knows whose side she's sticking to and fighting in sync with; they've been regularly working out together, grown accustomed to each others' capabilities, and she knows she'll have Maine's back. She takes position at his left-hand-side, the spot she'd always taken with her Overwatch teammates.

[bloodbathing]

Like Brigitte, Maine has a weapon at his belt: a combat knife stained to the hilt with dried blood. (He has no idea whose blood it is, and he hasn't had time to properly clean it.) However, the knife is tucked behind his back, as though he doesn't intend to use it. Quite frankly, he doubts he'll need to.

One consequence of Maine's physical prowess is a sense of confidence in combat that borders on arrogance. He can count the number of people who can well and truly defeat him on a single hand. Unless Agents Carolina or Texas pop out of the dark to take him on, Maine believes he can beat anyone they encounter.

So he doesn't pull the knife from his belt and ready it for a fight. His curled fists remain empty as he moves by Brigitte's side, his stride naturally shortening to match hers as they start down the winding tunnels.

The good news is that the ceiling is high enough for Maine to stand fully upright. The bad news is that the path they're on soon splits into three: one going up, one continuing straight, and one sloping down.

Maine clicks his tongue behind his teeth in another wordless curse: "shit."

[whipshots]

It's grown dark enough in the caves, this far from the sunlight at the entrance, that they're using the projected glow from their wrist devices as a sort of flashlight. Again: not ideal, but perhaps better than giving up an entire hand to a flaming torch and having to juggle that in the middle of a fight. Standing side-by-side, they look back and forth between the three options. Now that they're out of the woods, they don't have snapped twigs or trampled grass to follow anymore; it's just stone and earth, worn from the passage of footsteps, but neither passageway seems noticeably more trafficked than the rest.

"It looks... a bit like straight forward or down has been used more often? I can't tell, though." Frustration ebbs in her voice. Like him, Brigitte's more accustomed to the frontlines of a battlefield; to wading into a more straightforward situation, not this sneaking around.

After a moment, considering the powers he'd gotten from the machine: "Your senses are better right now. Can you listen? See if you can hear any voices or footsteps, far off?"

[bloodbathing]

A person less inclined to stick with their teammates might suggest that they split up. There are two of them, and there are two paths that appear well-used; the option is an obvious one. But the idea doesn't so much as flit through Maine's mind. Brigitte is his ally. Right now, she's his partner on this mission. He's not leaving her side.

The big Freelancer nods in response to her suggestion. Steps to the point where the paths diverge and tilts his head, listening. He can hear himself breathing. He can hear Brigitte breathing. He can hear water dripping; the footsteps of other search parties; a bird chirping back at the entrance. He closes his eyes, furrows his brow in concentration, and tries to focus on the paths ahead.

And then something hits him. It's not a sound; it's a smell. Something that Maine — who has lived in close quarters of one kind of another for his entire life — immediately recognizes: body odor.

The space marine grunts and wrinkles his nose. Turns to Brigitte and points, without a hint of hesitation, to the path leading down.

That way to unwashed people.

[whipshots]

What— oh. She bites back a slight laugh once she realises what he's picked up on as they start heading down; not because the situation is all that funny, but because you could cut that wary tension with a knife and so anything feels hysterical then, feels like a sudden puncture of pressure bubbling up in her throat. Instead: she tightens her grip on her shield.

They're trying to be light on their feet, but it's impossible to be entirely stealthy when they need that light to move, like a lighthouse necessarily broadcasting their approach. And so once they turn the corner—

Brigitte felt-slash-heard it more than saw it, the rush of a body moving. Pure hardwired reflex: her arm's already instinctively swung up her shield and it takes the first blow with a clang and a clatter, from someone barreling at them in the half-darkness with a blunt club.

Once the light from their devices falls on the first attacker, it takes her a moment to process: Thor, Thor looking rough and disheveled and maddened. She'd just left him back at the smithy. One of the few men in the village big enough to give Maine a run for his money, maybe, and even remembering the warning (They're us but not us), it still throws her off-kilter for a moment as soon as that recognition sinks in; enough for Maine to step in, cover that stutter-stop from her end.

[bloodbathing]

It's also difficult to be stealthy when one among their number is absolutely terrible at sneaking. Maine is simply too massive to be light on his feet. He's built for strength and power, not agility or speed. Even when he tries not to make noise, a four hundred pound wall of muscle can only creep so quietly.

Really, between the light from their wrists and Maine's footsteps, it's no surprise when someone finds them. What is surprising — to Brigitte, at least — is what the person looks like.

But unlike Brigitte, Maine has never met Thor. He doesn't see a friend, an ally, or even an acquaintance. He sees a perfect stranger attacking his partner. And there's really only one solution.

A full-force punch from Maine can snap a grown man's neck. "Thor" gets lucky; Maine doesn't take the extra second to wind up. He just slams his fist directly into that handsome face, sending the stranger flying back against a wall — with Maine in pursuit.

GROUP 2, RESCUING TIM DRAKE-WAYNE

[whipshots]

- Jason Todd
- Stephanie Brown

GROUP 3, RESCUING CISSIE KING-JONES

[whipshots]

- Diego Hargreeves
- Seifer Almasy
- Anne Weying

[excessed]

Luckily Diego already knows Anne, and while he's been tight lipped the entire trip, he's thankful when she's with him when they separate off. As much as this business with kidnapping and weird attacks unsettles him, he's not much more comfortable with the strangers around him. Maybe most trust each other, but he's never gotten a hang of trusting people on a whole. Maybe he should be a bit more untrusting of an attorney, but there's worse things a person could be. Especially when they've come from a place where people like him were almost more common. It had a settling effect.

He's watched the others on the way up there, glad for the things that he'd received shortly before the trip began. Now though he has clothes that fit, that aren't red for one, and are better suited for the caves they find themselves in. But he'd have dealt with those for the rest he has. Steel throwing knives lining his arms, his waist, loaded down with them from the box of them he'd received. Finding his accuracy almost back with the help of that machine, he is ready for this. All of it.

Or so he hopes.

Glancing at the others, giving Anne a nod as they start into the cave system. It's been a hard hike up there, and while part of him thinks a break would do most some good, he's also not ready to risk those taken because some might need water and a breather.

"You two okay to head on?" He glances between them, considering how this might go.

[can_fight_ugly]

"I'm doing alright for now, but I'd like to suggest a quick breather just so we're going in fresh." She doesn't want to waste any time, either, but she'd heard about some of the nasty things residing in the caves.

To that end, she gives the hatchet in her hand a little swipe, mentally running through some of the steps and moves she'd learned from Seifer and the others at the dojo. She looks over to him to see what his verdict is. If he decides to move on, they move on; at least Anne's been doing a pretty good job of staying fit during her stay here.

She was in a good group. She knew Seifer could hold his own, and Diego certainly sounded like he could handle a scrap. In the face of such experienced fighters perhaps she should have stayed back, but after getting dropped in odd locations and surviving twice now, she wasn't about to sit back and not pull her own weight. Besides her boosting power, she could offer strategic advice, and - of course - she could fight ugly.

There's no reason not to, against the enemies they face.

[firacrux]

Anne is arguably the glue to this group, being the person both Diego and Seifer know in common. Indeed if it weren't for her being there Seifer likely would have rushed off on his own already, but he couldn't in good conscience leave her behind to fend for herself. Despite the small amount of training he'd been able to give her thus far he didn't think she was quite ready to take on a cave full of who knows how many crazy people by herself. She'd become family to him, he wasn't about to leave her to get hurt.

Seifer was also grateful that he'd been granted some fresh, more durable clothing and even his old coat back in a surprising number of packages that arrived mysteriously one day. Felt more himself, in proper clothes and most of all that long coat of his. With his sword sheathed at his side he was more than ready for the fight ahead.

At Diego's question he gestured dismissively, the hike was just a warm up for him. Anne however... he frowned rather than making a rude quip about leaving them behind, because he couldn't do that to Anne. He had to admit she was keeping pace really well considering this was all foreign territory to her. "Better not linger too long, lose our chance at the element of surprise." He'll allow her a breather if she needed it, he himself was fine to keep going. A hike followed by fighting was perfectly normal for him. Good thing he'd chosen to stay in shape while he was there. Besides, they did have the benefit of two adrenaline machines should they need the extra boost.

[excessed]

Diego nods at Seifer, but he's glancing at Anne, making sure that she's okay. He knows she runs and she's likely at least got the stamina for this, given the way he was kind of stalking and chasing her down previously but that doesn't mean he's not worried about her. She's a lawyer, after all, which means she hasn't been thrown into things like this as far as he knows.

He looks around them, considering the paths and the curve of the walls before them and the atmosphere. "So, before we get into this, just so we all know. What's everyone bringing to the table?" And then before questions can be asked.

"I was trained as a super hero, been through police training, and currently have telekinesis and a shit ton of knives on. I'm kind of skilled with throwing knives and using them to detain people." He looks around, knowing a bit about Anne's but not this other guy.

[can_fight_ugly]

This is definitely outside of her original training, but she's picked up a few things here. Still, keeping up with people like Diego and Seifer meant grabbing any opportunity she could.

"I'm glad you asked, Diego. I've been training at the dojo, and practicing with this," She swings the hatchet again, and then carefully places it on the ground and takes a step back, "but I recently grabbed a power that I'm hoping could help. I haven't used it yet, though, so ..."

She'd been in a rush, four weeks of animal transformation and she wasn't sure what animal she got. Here's hoping it wasn't a goldfish.

She closes her eyes and focuses on that little stream of power, a tiny thread of difference. Outwardly, her form stretches and morphs to that of a large, tawny tiger.

Her fur-ruffed head turns to see the results and she chuffs, pleased.

[firacrux]

"Wait, how do you train to be a super hero?" No really he needs to know, you train for that? Seifer just figured you either were or you weren't, or something weird like radioactive spiders happened. You know, the normal ways. The good news was it sounded like Diego had a degree of range covered for them, but before Seifer could add his own offering up to the table Anne went and turned herself into... Hyne what was that even a mutated Torama?

He just stared at her in shock. "The hell? Are you a lion?" He sounded awed. Of course most would recognize a tiger immediately, but tigers and lions were effectively mythological creatures on his world. So to see one up close was mind blowing.

Thank goodness it wasn't a goldfish.

Uh. Wait, there were questions. Right. "Been trainin' as a soldier since I was six, lead a war, fought in plenty, killed my first T-Rexuar solo when I was sixteen but seriously is that a fuckin' lion?"

He needs to know. So distracted he forgot to boast about how amazing he was.