legionmissions | Out With the Old [modplot]

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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.

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A LOT meaner than Connie, fuck. Note to self: if he survives this? he needs to go back to sparring with her. Up his game. In the present he snaps an arm between Felix's knife and his throat, the other hand scrabbling up to lay flat against his helmet.

It smells a little like ozone, that could be the sudden glowing pulse of energy he fills the armored plating with- or the cables to the surrounding cameras snapping and powering down. Hard to tell what's what at the moment.

The fizzle and pop is less than the marbles and his arm gives as he twists (lucky), blade catching one of the damn sealed clasps keeping his own helmet in place.

For a moment, he's not sure what happened.

His ears are ringing, and he's not staring through a HUD any longer, his helmet having literally popped off and rolling back and forth across the ground nearby. Surprise quickly turns back to fury as he stares down at Taylor, bearing down even harder with the knife, trying to angle for a good, deep gash into his throat, rather than up into the helmet's lip.

"Stop that!"

"HA!" That's a new trick. Popping off helmets- he'll have to remember that for the future. His humor is, of course, shortlived when he shoves against the knife and the seal gives, sending his own goddamn helmet rolling free. No HUD, no helpful analysis from Delta- just this fucker's face braced over him in the dark, knife still trying to find his throat.

"You're gonna have to elaborate-" But he does, in fact, stop charging up the bit of wire his hand tangled in. "Cuz there's a lot going on here, buddy."

"Breathing. There's a start for you," Felix hisses. "Save us both a lot of trouble here."

But it's becoming clear just what this guy's deal is. So keeping his hands occupied is going to turn into necessity. Abruptly he draws the blade back before bringing it down, this time aiming for the guy's face.

Reflex'll have him defending with everything he's got. See if he feels like popping something else off after that.

Without the filter of the helmet or Delta there's a half second where he does, in fact, stop breathing. A single, terrifying second.

"How 'bout no?" Okay good voice works lungs work and that motherfucker is actually kinda hot ~~notnowboner~~ why does he think of this shit NOW this is not the time or place and he hates his brain, it's official. He's not distracted so long that he cant snap his other hand up to guard against the slash, knees swinging up to try and hook his legs around Felix somehow and haul him off. No leverage in this mess of wires, not even a little.

"Come on. It'd be easy. This shit...isn't your fight anyway. Be a whole lot easier just...letting go."

Oh he's not giving up now, not this close, and there's an almost eager gleam in his eye as he keeps bearing down. Oh, York gets close, the movement of his legs damn near bucking him off a few times, but straddled this high up on his waist? No cigar.

And as that blade edges closer, Felix bears in on that space between, closing off hope of escape. He's got him. He's fucking got him, of course he does, God but he's awesome.

"You just leave Locus to me."

It would, wouldn't it? It's been hard, the fighting, the horrors, the ideological differences. They are gonna get killed unless they kill back, being the bigger guy, public trust- they aren't cops. They're soldiers. They're fighting threats no one else can fight.

Why have the moral high ground? It's so damn wearying and he's still cold to his bones from the Silent Horizon. It'd be nice to just...

Stop.

His arms stop flexing so hard and- why's he fighting again? No real point-

Then that name.

That fucking name, everything this asshole put Locus through, everything he'll probably try to do and be twice as good cuz he can talk people into not breathing, he won't stand a fucking chance-

The charmed lassitude snaps into narrow eye'd focus, lips curling in a snarl as he hauls back with one hand and swings, aiming right for Felix's fucking mouth. "You leave him alone!"

Alright.

Not the button to press. How tangled up was this guy in his former partner, really?

This question has time to rattle around in his brain as his head snaps to the side, York's fist colliding with his jaw with a meaty 'thud', and he rolls his jaw with a grunt before closing his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"That. Was fucking rude."

And that second blade swings upwards into view, aiming in an swipe for that one good eye he has left.

It's not long- but long enough for York to get his legs under him, his eye to flare a bright blue as he pulls on probability and shoves upward with arms and legs and shoulders, rolling free of the grapple and leaving the gift of glowing, charged wires in his wake.

Boom boom boom, motherfucker.

"So's trying to stab a guy, guess we're even!"

"Shit!"

He scrambles back quickly, wincing as those charges go off, with nothing between him and the explosions. Ugh, but it's merely a distraction. He knows that. He's got to get after York before he manages to detonate something else.

Time to swipe up his helmet, while he's got the opportunity.

"Oh we're so fucking far from even, you're never gonna see black."

"Aww- you mad Locus moved on? Stings, doesn't it, to remember that you're dead weight." Shittalking is rusty, side effect of trying to be less of an asshole- but he can recall the basics. He has to hit while the helmet's off, hurling another handful of marbles at Felix's face while he rolls to recover his own.

Well, as luck would have it? It turns out that helmet is pretty handy for batting those marbles away as he darts away, fuming. A second later and helmet jams back into place, two fresh knives at the ready.

"So I guess that makes you the rebound."

Alright, time to place where he's at. Determine if it's worth closing the distance again, or heading to find someone bigger and meaner to do the swinging for him.

"Nah, man. Makes me his actual friend that he trusts cuz I treat him like a person and don't use him like a pawn." How's that for some perspective? Treating a people like a people turns out good for everyone involved. Who the fuck knew? York slips his own helmet back on and stands at the ready, same loose limbed and on the balls of his feet, more marbles glinting between his fingers. "Come on Felix. You gonna stand around or are you gonna do something?"

Like he's not bleeding already at a mildly alarming rate.

"Heh."

And he could finish him off, but really, why not just let him slow someone else down in the meanwhile? All that business about sticking together, friendship and teamwork and all that jazz.

Didn't mean anything when the chips were down. Someone you trusted with your life could turn on you in an instant, over nothing. Over perceived betrayals and whatever excuses their mind could come up with. He's through with the concept...at least until he can get his hooks back into his partner again.

So Felix steps back, saluting mockingly.

"Got bigger fish to fry than you. Say hi to Wash for me, will ya? I'll be seeing him again, real soon." And with that, he was darting back up the hall.

...Not what he expected but kind of a lucky break. He really needs to get something over the stab wound in his side, the scrapes on his arms, and the odd little tickle of where the knife got him on his neck. "Yeah, you BETTER Run!"

Because sometimes he just can't NOT say something.

So.

That was Felix.

SHIT.

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Out With the Old [modplot]

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