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

[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.

MY TURN TO SCREECH AT YOURS

[whipshots]

It's an unintended-but-good consequence of this new approach: forcing him to slow down, be more careful with his steps, not just charging his way blindly across a foreign landscape and possibly off the nearest cliff. She has her arms braced against his shoulders, one half-looped to hold herself steady, settling into the rhythm of his steps. When he mentions the armour, though, Brigitte makes a noise in the back of her throat -- almost a startled laugh, picturing it. Trying to picture it.

"Must've been much heavier," she says. Because he's told her enough about his old power armour, how utterly heavy one set alone would've been, let alone two.

😁

[bloodbathing]

The Freelancer hums an affirmative that Brigitte will likely feel as much as hear, with the way it rumbles in his chest. The suits are indeed heavy. Maine's is the heaviest of all purely because of his size. Fortunately, the suits compensate for their own weight, and their strength-enhancing properties make things like hauling equipment a simple task.

"Suit's strong," Maine says. "Could throw Warthog." A pause as he recalls that Brigitte may not know that specific piece of military equipment. "Armored vehicle," he explains.

It's talk that has nothing to do with the task at hand, but it seems to be easing a fraction of the tension knotting Maine's shoulders.

[whipshots]

The talk is a welcome distraction, really; because there's little else they can do besides focus on the trail and keep following it -- so the options are a tense silence or a companionable conversation, keeping his nerves at bay. Obviously, the latter is better. Unlike how rattled she'd been during their first village attack, Brigitte's steadier this time around, largely because she could see the panic and rage fuelling Maine. Knows that she needs to be the foundation this time instead, try to help keep him from falling apart.

Still, though, she's curious. "When you say throw an armoured vehicle," she repeats, bemused, "do you mean you threw it at someone? Like, as an attack?"

[bloodbathing]

That steady foundation is something that Maine appreciates, if mostly unconsciously. His emotions run deep, and his rage is like the ocean in a storm: powerful, all-encompassing, and wildly destructive. Brigitte's calm is serving as an anchor. A safe port amid his mind's turmoil.

Maine's shaved head bobs in a little nod. He did indeed throw a Warthog at someone. Multiple "someone"s, actually. It was, in his opinion, an excellent tactic.

"Was close," he explains — like that's a good reason to throw a vehicle. "Effective. Broke line."

(It won't be the last time Maine chucks a vehicle at someone because it's convenient, though he has no idea it's something of a pattern for his future-self.)

[whipshots]

She snorts a small laugh, and he can feel it vibrating through his back, his shoulders, her lungs thrumming in a chuckle. “That’s one way to use an unconventional weapon. Like a giant throwing boulders.”

This rhythm of Maine’s steady walk is almost hypnotic, soothing. Like being a kid again, briefly, and just being safely carried. Plus instead it lets Brigitte concentrate on their surroundings, occasionally pointing out trampled grass and a new direction to turn.

Then, a little wistfully, she adds, “You would probably have loved the Crusaders’ weapons. They had gigantic barrier shields, and rocket-powered hammers.”

Yep. Rockets.

[bloodbathing]

Those broad shoulders rise slightly in a shrug. Hey, the attack worked! Maine isn't a particularly creative person in general, but he can turn just about anything into a weapon. Put him in a battlefield with boulders, and he'd probably throw or kick them at people, too.

(Spoiler alert: he does.)

Maine follows Brigitte's directions without argument. His enhanced senses make it easy for him to spot the signs she indicates; he doesn't have to slow and search or ask for her to point again. And, now that he's not trampling through everything, he doesn't wander from the trail in his haste.

"Rocket-powered?" Maine repeats — and indeed, his interest is obviously piqued.

[whipshots]

"Rocket-powered," Brigitte confirms, with satisfaction. It's a good, distracting subject that helps while the minutes away. "It's so heavy that the rockets help with building momentum to swing it. And for especially big attacks, they can kick into high gear for a really, really, really powerful attack. You don't want to see someone after they get hit with one of those."

Flattened. Crushed. Maybe like being run over by a truck.

"And then the armour had the capability for rocket-powered charges, too, but maybe that's more like what you are used to?"

From what she'd heard about his powered assault armour -- and she'd grilled him quite a bit about it, describing as much of it as he could remember although he was no engineer -- they were so, so similar to what she'd worked with, though Reinhardt's suit had been old, out-of-date, falling apart if it hadn't been for her upkeep. What she wouldn't give to be able to tinker with an actual honest-to-god Mjolnir from Maine and Wash's world.

[bloodbathing]

In spite of the situation at hand, Maine still finds a bit of excitement seeping into him as Brigitte explains the hammers. Weapons are something of a passion for Maine, though he'd never call it that. He loves trying out new ones. Loves to take them apart and figure out how they work. He even enjoys researching their origins, often learning bits and pieces of history just because he wanted to know why a weapon was designed in a specific way.

So he turns his head slightly so that he can better listen. It's not necessary, what with his enhanced senses and Brigitte being on his back, but it's a mark of his attention turned into something physical. And, even when Brigitte says that he wouldn't want to see someone after they're hit with such a weapon, Maine really would.

The Freelancer has no particular interest in gore. But he wants to see the impact. He wants to fully understand how the weapon works.

To her question, Maine offers an ambivalent noise and another small shrug. "Human-powered," he explains. "Suit enhances."

He might be able to hit someone with the same force as a rocket-powered suit of armor. However, the mechanism behind it wouldn't be a rocket; it would be his own flesh and bones.