The Legion [Mods] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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legionmissions2017-02-09 12:43 pm
letsgolegion) wrote in legionmissions2017-02-09 12:43 pm
Out With the Old [modplot]
Who| Everyone who signed up
What| The rescue of the NPC Legionnaires
Where| A movie studio in New New York
When| Takes place the same time as "Books of Magic"
Warnings/Notes| N/a
The studio where the Legionnaires are being held is swarming with supervillains. It's a trap, of course. But that doesn't mean they have to walk right into it. They have a plan, and now it's time to put it into action.
The Legion of Supervillains are expecting the non-native Legionnaires to be pushovers. They're about to discover just how crushingly, devastatingly wrong they are.
What| The rescue of the NPC Legionnaires
Where| A movie studio in New New York
When| Takes place the same time as "Books of Magic"
Warnings/Notes| N/a
The studio where the Legionnaires are being held is swarming with supervillains. It's a trap, of course. But that doesn't mean they have to walk right into it. They have a plan, and now it's time to put it into action.
The Legion of Supervillains are expecting the non-native Legionnaires to be pushovers. They're about to discover just how crushingly, devastatingly wrong they are.
TEAM AMERICA (and friends)
Wonderful. Should've stuck with the original plan instead of allowing the AI to take over for me.
She'd memorized the layout of this place from the blueprints. If she went through some of the currently shut-down studios, she'd eventually make it to the soundstage where the Legionnaires were being held. She'd gone through a few of these already. Met light resistance. Left a few unconscious, but one of the thugs had been resistant to the stun shots. She'd introduced him to her daystick. He required more than one introduction.
Now she was in some kind of... cartoon fantasy house. Awkward furniture, grotesque paintings, bright cheery colors that stood out even in the dark. Still, she was fine until the motion detector in her Lawgiver gave an audible 'beep' and the lights suddenly snapped on. Across the room from her, and closing fast, was a large, purple-and-yellow fuzzy... thing with his arms outstretched. In a goofy, cartoonish voice, it sang out "Birthday, Birthday, it's your Birth-"
No heat signature? Robot? Animatronic? "Hi-Ex."
The explosion was probably loud enough to catch attention from three sets over. Not the best for stealth, but neither was getting hugged to death by an animatronic. Silence fell until a hushed voice over the speakers took over.
"Y-you killed Uncle Ploomba! But can you take care of the cuddlesome Care Cousins?" Her motion detector started beeping again, loudly, as muppet-like creatures started to come out of the woodwork. "Care Cousins! CRUSH!"
America was nonplussed. Too close for more hi-ex. Most others wouldn't be great for a swarm of cute animatronics. And she's outnumbered twenty to one, easily.
...Now might be time to lend a hand. No one deserved to be cuddled to death.
no subject
Cortana's voice comes over the comm, rippling with laughter. "What's the penal code say about attacking a Judge with creepy puppets?"
Yeah, she absolutely thinks this is hilarious.
no subject
Drokking puppets.
"Assault With a Deadly Weapon. One year per puppet." Crunch. But, joy of joys, some of them are still coming through the walls. And the floors. America, not used to the idea of a flight ring, kicks one back and almost stumbles on the suddenly uncertain footing. "Maybe a charge of Intentionally Wasting Justice Department Time. Three months." She brings her daystick down again, sending one little dragon's head flying off, trailing sparks in a spiral pattern. "Attempted murder of a Judge, thirty years." She steps back onto a chair, only to have it bite her foot and hold her still.
America twists, turning her back on the horde, and starts sinking bullets into Chukky Chair, the Regent of Recliners. Each time a bit of stuffing goes flying, a helium-squeak of a voice announces "Orf wif her head!"
She glares down at it, trusting Cortana to take care of the Care Cousins, and starts torching the thing with red, white, and blue beams from her eyes. "Possible criminal insanity. Might have to stick them in a Kook Cube for observation."
no subject
"Good news: I still control the hard light projectors."
As she speaks, a simple white rectangle perhaps the size of a beach towel appears at Care Cousin neck level, parallel to the floor, and decapitates one of them in a single quick sweep. A blade only a few photons thick is very sharp, and that's one unicorn that's not making it to Candy Mountain anytime soon.
It's questionable whether Cortana would make a great Green Lantern or a terrible one, but as far as today's escapades are concerned, there's no moral quandary involved in killing the viewers' childhoods.
no subject
Oh Grud. The chair's crying now. She managed to kick free at last and a few of the cousins start batting at it to put out the flames. America, on the other hand, decides that discretion is the better part of valor and leaps into the audience.
...Oh. There was a field there to keep children from rushing the stage in excitement. She would have liked to know that before she bounced off of it. This was just. Ugh. She'd had worse encounters, but not in recent memory. America turns and punts one of the freakish little cartoon figures back into the crowd. "Think the fire suppression systems cover the entire stage?"
no subject
She's still dicing puppets as she speaks, hard light constructs flickering into and out of existence as needed. "Roboticans are digital sentients, not machines running on solely algorithms. They're roughly as fast as I am. Not nearly as good in a fight, though. This one just smashed the controls and ran out before I could grab him, so to speak."
At America's second question, she takes a quick peek into the fire suppression subsystem. "Fire control looks thorough--oh, hey, I could pump the stage down to vacuum." Too bad America needs to breathe. She'll call that Plan...D. That leaves some wiggle room. "Less drastically, there are foam sprayers."
Let's see...oh. Huh. That's a very long MSDS. "Uh, if you ingest any, go to Medbay after this is all over."
no subject
Thermographics didn't show anything that look like anything's alive. Other than the now-burning husks from when Cortana dropped in. "I'll hold my breath." Or, less facetiously, she slides her respirator down. "Twenty minute oxygen supply. We'll have to talk about equipment specifics later." How's she supposed to make plans when she doesn't know what everyone's toys can do?
A very fluffy two-headed poodle with antennae and wings flies at her face. She grabs it and slaps Officer McFun, the Smiley Science Cop, sending both flying. "Incendiaries." At her voice command, her Lawgiver switches to white phosphorus rounds. She targets the struggling poodle, then the singing dishwasher. Then the still-burning couch. And switches over to high explosives to take out the stairs, before switching back to launch a few incendiaries up there anyway. And, of course, two or three rounds in the glowing piles around her new favorite AI's flying guillotines. She pauses to kick Dippy Duck into the now flaming pile and stomps over to a clearer spot. Those things caught quick.
"Remind me to investigate the safety permits here after all this is done."
no subject
Cortana takes a moment to appreciate the near-Master Chief levels of carnage the two of them have wrought on the soundstage, then triggers the fire suppression. The mystery substance falls from sprinklers in the ceiling as colorless sprays of liquid, which expand instantly into a sickly green foam where they contact with flames, dousing them quickly. Otherwise, it forms puddles and lazy rivulets down walls and mechanical corpses, sticky and viscous.
"Huh."
no subject
America holsters her Lawgiver and tucks her daystick back into her belt. She plants her fists on her hips, examining the carnage for any signs of movement. "They won't be the first creeps learn that numbers won't save them from a sticky end."
She holds the pose for a moment and, satisfied that nothing's going to come after her, turns around to step off the stage. She pauses abruptly and gently toes where the field would be first. No luck. It felt wrong, not letting the scene end on that nice little homily, but there wasn't much choice. "Is it worth asking for this to get dropped or am I just going to have to exit, stage left, and wander around backstage to find the rest of the team?"
no subject
When America tries to escape the candy-colored nightmare, Cortana is uncharacteristically slow to respond, a few seconds of silence greeting the request before her voice returns, sounding distracted. "Sorry, someone was targeting civilians. Just a sec...there." There's a barely-audible pop as the field drops and air rushes in to fill the infinitesimal gap left by its absence.
no subject
And, Grud, but she doesn't want to linger on that. It was just so... dumb.
"Granted, that's not going to stop me from finding this Robotican and feeding it its own processors, but that's neither here nor there right now." She paused for a moment. "Thanks for the assist." The respirator was just going to have to stay down until she was certain she was out of the room.