lets_do_the_timeloop (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lets_do_the_timeloop) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomtownies2021-12-20 05:26 pm
lets_do_the_timeloop) wrote in fandomtownies2021-12-20 05:26 pm
Entry tags:
Blackreef Island, Late Friday Afternoon into Evening
There was a Plan, and it was in motion. Jesse assembled another group of willing Fandomites in the morning, for a single purpose: to bring down the three people anchoring them here.
Or, well, one. And then hope Colt did the job he'd promised to do.
Unlike yesterday's group, the team arriving on Blackreef found the island not quite covered in marshmallow snow yet. It was still cold, and the grass under their feet looked anemic, and the Complex... was empty?
And then... well, then... nothing happened.
Blackreef was quiet, bar for the fading gunshots coming out of Colt and Julianna's guns, all the way to Fandom.
[[ some aftermath-y ocd incoming! ]]
Or, well, one. And then hope Colt did the job he'd promised to do.
Unlike yesterday's group, the team arriving on Blackreef found the island not quite covered in marshmallow snow yet. It was still cold, and the grass under their feet looked anemic, and the Complex... was empty?
| "For the record? I do not like this," Illyana murmured under her breath as she looked around. "All that's missing is a supervillain monologuing about us falling into their trap." | |
| Goose was inclined to agree and also by now he just really wanted to shoot at something, “I agree,” he nodded softly, “it’s too quiet, it’s never a good sign,” | |
| "I guess I don't have to say that I have a bad feeling about this," Rey said wryly, since everyone had to have one of those. She was walking with her lightsaber in hand, off, but with her thumb over the power switch for the instant she needed it. | |
| Steve gave her a quick grin and kept moving. You don't survive as a SEAL if you feel chatty in high stress situations. | |
| The grass would have looked worse than anemic if Yasha had already been at peak rage, wings out and shadowy aura around her and all, but she wasn't quite there yet. She was saving that. Which didn't mean she wasn't absolutely furious -- she just looked like any second now lightning was going to start crackling around the corners of her eyes, because she had a not-insubstantial chunk of time missing from her memory already and in between that and all the times people had tried to fuck with her mind and she'd failed to fight them off she was really pretty Over It. So yes, there was in fact a six foot column of muscle and leather and sharp, sharp steel here, stalking mostly wordlessly alongside the others, and she? Would like. To rage. | |
| In contrast to some of the others, particularly Yasha, Jon probably looked like he didn't belong here. But he knew what was going on, and he was determined to help. And these heavily armed bastards had had plenty of stories, so he was doing just fine. | |
| And, yeah, Rosa was right along with Steve on this one, trying not to look too annoyed at any of the chatter that might have leaked out, keeping her eyes sharp, her grip on her gun steady, and keeping every single one of her many blades somehow tucked into her tight clothes as they moved along. She did pretty much agree, though. It was too quiet, and she did have a bad feeling about this, too. She just wasn't about to say that, even if they weren't trying to be quiet. | |
| Juillenne, shockingly, was also on team Let's Cut The Chatter And Just Do This. Don't ask where she'd acquired the bow she was currently holding, all that mattered was that she had it. Yes, she could've grabbed a gun to use instead, a weapon was a weapon and the war-gift would ensure her strikes were true, but she preferred the bow. Camden, on the other hand, had no qualms about voicing her displeasure, a low growl rumbling from the mountain cat's throat as she stalked alongside Jules. | |
Wait. That's gunfire. Every last cultist on the island had gathered by Egor's lab, a series of shipping containers tweaked and remodeled to form isolated buildings full of equipment. Here and there, strange machines rose from the ground, casting a faint aura around themselves. Atop one container stood Julianna, her sniper rifle aimed across the gap at... Colt, pistols drawn, standing on top of another container. They were also shooting. It's a thing today. And-- And that's... OKAY THOSE WERE SEVERAL PEOPLE WITH GUNS AND KNIVES RUNNING AT YOU. | |
| "You know, a few Fridays ago and this was an interesting change of pace," Steve said, pulling his weapon from his thigh holster and aiming, "but now I'm getting really tired of killing the same people all the time." | |
| Goose drew out both blasters and aimed them ready to fire, “let’s get this party started,” he grinned, someone had been hanging around Doc for too long, he was starting to get into the one liners a bit too much. | |
| "THAT'S JUST WHAT I WAS THINKING!" bellowed an ebulliant fellow in a teal-and-grey mask. "EAT LEAD!" Someone had been watching too many films. But someone was also firing a pistol in Goose's general direction with maniacal glee, which was probably a more pressing issue. | |
| “If that’s the way you want to play,” Goose laughed, eyes glinting as he started to return blaster fire. He shouldn’t be that gleeful about being in a shootout. | |
| Blaster bolts shot past the man... mostly by sheer luck. He jumped to the side, and it happened to be the right side. "Ha!" he yelled. And shot at Goose's... head. Yes. Head. (That bullet was absolutely going for Goose's hat.) | |
| “Hey!” Goose protested when the bullet hit his hat and blew it off, “you did not just shoot my hat!” Priorities Goose. He let out a roar and continued returning fire. | |
| "IT WAS STUPID-- aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" One bolt struck him right in the shoulder. Something hit the ground. "YOU MADE ME DROP MY GUN!" | |
| “My hat was not stupid!” really Goose? Goose stopped firing when the gun fell because it was more fun when someone was returning fire for him to shoot at. Goose had a weird definition of fun. “You were saying?” he said calmly, blasters levelled at the man. | |
| The man stuck both of his hands up. "UHHHH," he said. "IT'S ONLY SPORTING IF WE BOTH HAVE GUNS, RIGHT?!" | |
| “Now we’re talking,” Goose smirked, waiting for the man to pick up his weapon, “it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun,” Goose you shouldn’t be getting this much enjoyment out of this. | |
| Why shouldn't he? Shooting and killing people was fun if they were going to come back anyway! "THANKS," the man bellowed, snagging his pistol back off the floor, and promptly shot at Goose's-- Yeah, sorry, apparently he just really hated whatever was going on on top of Goose's head. | |
| Goose grinned when the bullet came close to his head. Since he didn’t have his hat on anymore there was only one way for the bullet to go. If it was anyone else that definitely would have caused trouble but Goose was a genetically engineered Supertrooper with bio defenses and he let the bullet hit his head. But not before tapping his ranger badge and activating said bio defenses and his abilities adapted to his situation, transforming so he was completely covered in metal. The bullet bounced off and Goose laughed, “you’ll have to try harder,” he smirked, “nice try though,” | |
| "Oh come on!" This just wasn't fair! Maybe if he shot the metal a few more times, he'd make a dent? | |
| Goose let those bullets bounce off him because he was a maniac like that and then he brought up his blasters and started moving closer, “my turn,” he laughed and then started to return fire. | |
| "This is SO unfair!" the man yelled, right before a bullet struck him right in the heart. He fell backwards, exploding into thousands of little motes of rainbow light. | |
| Jon waited. He ducked behind some equipment. Then he got one cultist's attention. "Tell me your story." | |
| The woman in the half-red mask clutched her blade tighter within her fists at those words. She had to keep fighting! Had to protect-- had to. Not fall for. "I came to Blackreef because my children got hurt and it was my fault," she said helplessly. | |
"Tell me what happened," Jon ordered, watching her with unblinking eyes. "Tell me everything." | |
| Oh. She should, shouldn't she? Tell him everything. "I was just going into the supermarket to get some groceries. They were supposed to be safe in the car," she started. The story wasn't-- long, just short, and cruel, as so much of life was. "...And as I was sitting there in that hospital," she said, glad her expression wasn't clear behind the mask, "I realized that the worst thing about life is... the threat that it might end." | |
| Jon smiled. "The End is patient and gentle. The End can be a mercy. There are so many worse things." He would hate himself for this if these people weren't trying to keep them caged in time. A large part of him hated himself for it anyway. The rest was always hungry, and waiting to drink in pain and fear. He met her eyes. "Do you know how your children felt in that moment? Let me show you." He had that knowledge. And what he had, he could share. | |
| She screamed, falling to her knees. "No, no, no, no, no, no, make it go away, no no no no I didn't no I didn't mean to--" This memory should be grafted in her mind: so much pain. So much helplessness. So much screaming-for-her. She wouldn't remember a damned thing about this in the morning. | |
| Jon would. He stood there for a moment, feeding off her fear and agony, feeling better than he had in some time and dimly aware that it probably wasn't a good thing. Then he left to find someone else. | |
| "It's about goddamn time," Rosa muttered, mostly to herself, and, look at that, someone wasn't so keen on being quiet anymore. Look, she'd just spent about a month in a convent surrounded by nun. She was going to shoot at literally anything that moved that wasn't someone from the island, and she was going to love every moment of it. | |
| Steve came up on her other side and smiled as he fired. "Why are we always meeting like this?" | |
| It was a good thing most people's attention was (hopefully) on the battle at hand; it would make that tiny suggestion of a smirk in the corner of Rosa's mouth that much less noticeable, as she took this small respite for banter to also reload. "Well," she said, and, now reloaded, aimed smoothly to fire off another two shots into the chest of...well, not the nearest guard, that was obviously too easy, but the third bullet that followed was for that one, to be sure... "Someone around here's got to know what they're doing." | |
| Rosa thinking he knew what he was doing was high praise, indeed, and Steve took the compliment for what it was as he also took out some of their opponents. "The way they just disappear is disconcerting," he admitted. Not that he loved the thud and spatter parts--he wasn't a psychopath--but it at least reminded him of the consequences of his actions. | |
| "Sure makes the clean up easier, though," said Rosa, who wouldn't say she loved the thud and splatter-parts, but would admit that she missed them, but not at all for the same reasons. Her chin quirked, minutely, just barely, to her left. "Few more thinking they're being quiet," she murmured. "Eleven o'clock." | |
| "Check," Steve murmured back. "You take the right, I'll take the left?" | |
| Not one to mince words...especially considering how chatty Steve could get...Rosa nodded, gave a gruff "Got it" for confirmation, and then slowly crept forward with caution and a ready trigger finger. | |
| Steve McGarrett would talk your ears off. It was known. He didn't bother to watch as she moved--he knew she was more than capable--just went off to take care of his half of the problem himself. | |
| And that was all the cue Yasha needed to really tap into that seemingly endless pool of anger she kept bottled up. She unsheathed Magician's Judge with an honest-to-gods feral snarl as foam began to form at the corners of her mouth and she slipped into the cold blankness where kill and protect were the only things she knew. Now those massive skeletal wings unfurled out of nowhere, her eyes and hair went completely black for a moment, and the light in her immediate vicinity seemed to dim and give off a faint aura of fear. She found herself a position where she could stay between their ranged fighters and the attacking cultists as best she could, bellowing a wordless roar of challenge. Try to keep them physically occupied or otherwise distracted enough to give her allies time and space to take clear shots, pick out vulnerable areas: that was her job, just like it was with the Nein. It wasn't quite the same without Beau here to team up with her, and she didn't really know what kind of battle synergy this team had yet, but she could hold her own and shrug off a good amount of damage. It was just what she did, and what she intended to do now. | |
| "What... what's that?!" screeched a woman holding a machete. Her friend in the blue mask took a step back. "Something really messed up," he said, gripping his gun tight. "KILL IT WITH FIRE!" A woman in green dashed past both of them, right at Yasha, shotgun in hand. They shrugged and followed. | |
| Was it the dead-looking giant bat wings? Or the flecks of foam that went flying from Yasha's mouth as she spun in their direction and slashed down toward the shotgun with her sword? Because it was pretty messed up, she wouldn't argue. She bellowed another roar, just about right in the woman's face. It roughly translated as "bring it," if you spoke Incoherent Barbarian Battle Noises. | |
| "Ahahahhhhh." The strangled noise that came out of the woman's mouth was almost a laugh, if you squinted right. She dropped the two halves of her shotgun and stumbled back. "Fire, fire, fire, fire," she shrieked, scrambling away from Yasha as quickly as she'd run towards the barbarian in the first place. "Crap," yelled the man, and opened fire as the third woman ran closer with her machete. | |
| It had been a long time since Jules had let her war-gift out to play for real. (Using it to summon snacks from the common room kitchenettes did not count) She strung an arrow, aimed it at a cultist, and directed it to find its mark. | |
| It had been a long, long time since Illyana had been allowed to cut-loose with her powers in an offensive-fashion. Stepping Discs winked in-and-out of existence all up-and-down the battlefield, as she blipped around, a whirlwind of hair and horns and spells slung from her fingers. It was sort of poetic, the way they just winked out of existence as they died, since they were never meant to be here at all. | |
| "Hey, Julianna!" Colt bellowed, flinging himself to the edge of the roof. "Smile! I'm about to win this!" He opened fire across the gap separating them with reckless abandon. Only to drop off the side of the roof seconds later, her bullet pinging off the metal behind him. | |
| "Oh fuck you, you haven't won anything!" Julianna yelled. "Argh! Stupid Colt!" Now where was he? She stared through the reticule of her rifle, trying to find him in the middle of all the chaos. "Come on, come on..." She knew she should have stayed away, made sure he wouldn't be able to take a crack at her. But she could never resist a good shootout. | |
| Rey was snapping to attention right away, lightsaber on. She'd been playing nicer than she probably should have been till now, but they were almost through this and anyone shooting at her was fair game. |
| What were these people trying to do to him?! To his lab?! Egor sped through the clearing, gun in hand. He was invisible, he could still get away, he could... He passed through one of those nigh-invisible domes, and suddenly he could see his own hands again. Shit. He kept running. | |
| Illyana caught the flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye and whirled around, staff at the ready in case she needed to hit something. Oh. OH. "THE WEASEL-MAN IS MAKING A RUN FOR IT," she yelled, as multiple Stepping Discs snapped to life around the area. "Hurry!!!!" She dove for the portal nearest to her, and was almost immediately deposited where he'd been just a moment ago, hitting the ground running. Anyone who was going to go with her had mere moments to follow, before the portals would wink out of existence. Part of her really hoped he'd keep running. Illyana was looking forward to hurting him before she killed him. | |
| Rey heard that and turned to look away from her fight. And then instinct kind of took over, slashing her opponent at the leg to take him down, and then running into a leap to land right about where Illyana did. She really didn't get to use that enough outside of training. | |
| NonononononononoNO! This was supposed to be a quiet escape for Egor to work on his own projects without the constant interference of those-- He didn't get around to finishing that mental rant. There were women - angry, weapon-wielding women! - appearing behind him. Had they taken a slab off of someone? Egor shrieked loudly and scrambled, firing bullets haphazardly over his shoulder as he ran. Surely he'd hit someone that way? | |
| Oh, he hit Illyana. He definitely hit Illyana. Woe be to him. Illyana screamed -- an utterly inhuman sound -- as a few bullets tore through her shoulder, and in a flash there was blinding light and the sound of grinding metal as armor began growing out of the wounds and wrapping down around her arm. A beautiful, gleaming, carapace of pure silver in stark contrast to her horns and red eyes. Not that it slowed her down at all, as she wordlessly began slinging mage-bolts at him, not particularly careful about her aim. | |
| Rey got the "Are you okay?" out a second before seeing what was happening, and then kind of figured that was an unneeded question maybe? But she reached out a hand, Force pushing at his legs to try and trip him up. Maybe that would get rid of the gun, too. | |
| On the one hand: hitting the ground meant those mage-bolts went flying over Egor's head, striking the rocks behind him rather than any of his squishy parts. On the other hand: Egor hit the ground hard, his head striking one of those lovely rocks. He had never been a graceful man. How was he supposed to fight a Force push? "Ah! Ah!" he babbled, holding up the gun in front of him as-- a shield, more than a weapon. "I don't know what he told you, but I can double it!" | |
| "You can double your death? How fun," Illyana purred, stalking towards him. "But you cannot give us back the days you stole." She swung her Soul Staff, intent on knocking that gun out of his hands. Or, maybe, just slicing his hands off completely. Illyana wasn't in the mood to be gentle at this point. "For that, I'll feed your soul to my demons." | |
| Please allow Rey to interrupt mid-swing with a startled, "Wait, what?" She hadn't been aware there would be demon-feeding? | |
| And please excuse Egor as he did the only thing that felt right: throw that gun at Illyana and yank his hands back. Really fast. "You're not feeding my anything to anything," he said, clutching those attached hands to his chest. "Have you dumb-dumbs completely missed the precious science of time loops?" He didn't want to die, because dying seemed painful, but he knew he'd be back tomorrow. And that little reminder snapped him out of his terror. | |
| Illyana looked totally unimpressed and side-stepped the thrown firearm. "I just wanted to see if he would piss himself at the thought," she admitted to Rey, almost cheerfully. "Psychological torture is almost as fun as physical torture. The screams aren't as nice, though, but we don't have time for me to actually give him to my demons." "But you." Illyana turned her attention back Egor. "I think you missed that I am a demon sorcerer and she has one of those fun Jedi-swords," she pointed out. Lightsaber, Illyana. It's a lightsaber. "We make physics our bitch, and we are both very, very angry with you." "And your 'science' says when we kill all of you, your loop ends. Forever." | |
| There was less anger right now, replaced by some deep concern over psychological torture, but Rey wasn't going to say that. Instead she held the blade of her lightsaber out close to his chest. "We need it to be over. This can be painless." She didn't know that for sure. It actually probably hurt a lot. It was absolutely not pleasant. | |
| "Who told you that?!" Egor said, eyes going big as he stared up at Illyana. "... Not that it matters. This loop is only part of a bigger loop!" Stared up at Illyana for about .5 seconds before he noticed the glowing sword. "ohgod is that on fire." | |
| "I don't know, why don't you lean forward and find out?" ILLYANA. NO. MEAN. "Jedi-swords are very interesting." She glanced over at Rey. "Do we care about his 'bigger loop,' or can we finish this?" | |
| "That depends. Does the bigger loop involve this island?" Rey asked, not taking her eyes off Egor. | |
| "No, no, no, no, this was--" If Egor held up his hands, could they just... back away now? "--a pitstop." | |
| At that, Illyana actually looked conflicted. "There's other people caught in a loop somewhere else? Where?" There was nothing more she wanted than to rip his throat out with her bare hands. But if there were other people trapped the same way... They couldn't just leave them to it, could they? As much as it annoyed her sometimes, Fandomites tended towards heroism. Even her, sometimes. | |
| Rey moved the lightsaber blade slightly closer, just so he knew they meant business. In case everything leading up to this hadn't been enough of a hint. | |
| "Nobody's caught," Egor said. Squirming a little, maybe. "Everyone chose to be on Blackreef, in the loop. It's not my problem no one around this island seems to see the appeal." | |
| Oh look, there went any chance he was walking out of this alive, as Egor brushed a little too close to Illyana's control issues around terrible men taking away her freedom. Her face twisted with rage. "No one on this island was given a choice," she hissed, "--and we don't take kindly to nasty little creatures making choices for us." "Kill him, or I will." And she was going to make it messy. | |
| Rey didn't work on orders as a general rule, but she knew he was telling the truth. Screwing up the loop for people who chose to be a part of it wasn't worth an entire town of people who didn't. So she plunged the lightsaber into his chest while telling herself he'd be fine tomorrow. | |
| "Wait," Egor started, "I didn't mean you should--" That was about as far as he got. The 'saber pushed through his chest, and he went slack instantly. Moments later, and his body fell away into rainbow-colored flecks of light. Before those, too, faded to the wind. |
And then... well, then... nothing happened.
Blackreef was quiet, bar for the fading gunshots coming out of Colt and Julianna's guns, all the way to Fandom.
[[ some aftermath-y ocd incoming! ]]
And Now What?
Re: And Now What?
"Is that it?"
Re: And Now What?
Because, well, time loops.
Re: And Now What?
The wings faded out of existence and she dropped heavily to one knee, wiping blood out of her eyes from a cut across her forehead. She had cuts and bruises everywhere, actually, though she barely seemed to notice.
"What...?"
What now, she meant, but the sudden fatigue had hit her so hard she was basically stunned and that was all she could manage.
Colt and Julianna
Re: Colt and Julianna
Re: Colt and Julianna
Re: Colt and Julianna
Re: Colt and Julianna
Poor choice of words.
The grenade exploded in Julianna's face.
Re: Colt and Julianna
"Just sit still," he said, raising his gun. "This'll only take a minute."
Re: Colt and Julianna
She heard him pull the trigger. The world went black.
She opened her eyes again, and found herself back in her bedroom in Blackreef. Staring at her old wallpaper, as she had for-- more years and more Fridays than she could remember.
"Argh."
The *Real* Aftermath
Followed by a whole-ass chunk of island, vanishing in a blip of purple and spitting out whoever didn't belong there on the way out.
[[ for post-BDE oohs and aahs ]]
Re: The *Real* Aftermath
Again.
He was so tired of marshmallow in his hair.
Re: The *Real* Aftermath
He had weird priorities.
Re: The *Real* Aftermath
He'd do that by keeping busy, seeing if anybody needed help of any sort he could offer.
He might end up just getting people tea. It had worked for Martin.
OOC