Out With the Old [modplot]

[letsgolegion]

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.

Comments

[turntex]

The rest of the group seems to have shit under control on the main stage. So someone's gotta hunt down some of the rest of these minor baddies before they can escape or get the jump on all the heroes. Dave takes that job for himself. Not as glamorous, but hey, someone's gotta do it.

This is a time sensitive mission, so caution has been kinda low on Dave's priority list. Which is why he come dashing down a corridor recklessly and turns a corner to follow the echoing sounds of metal on metal only to find himself faced with a hall thoroughly coated in explosives, red lights on all of them helpfully indicating that they're armed.

"Fuck."

[twomanapocalypse]

"This bomb's for you!" An oh so cheerful voice rings through the air as Junkrat flicks and clicks the detonator- no kill like overkill- eyes wide and wild and pinned on their entrapped prey.

Go boom go boom go BOOM.

[turntex]

Everything certainly goes boom. It's a painfully familiar experience, really.

Dave's stunned for half a second, a second too long to avoid the bombs going off entirely. He can feel the stringing heat of them by the time he reacts, throwing his arms up to guard his face and halting time in the corridor, and it's one hell of a frozen moment. The wall of bombs all caught mid-explosion, everything blindingly bright with the light of it, tongues of flames at a standstill in the air. It's kind of beautiful, really, in a purely aesthetic sense.

Shit, his sleeve is on fire. Not beautiful at all, shit shit shit.

Dave curses and swats at the small flames, which are unfortunately not frozen in time thanks to already being attached to him, dashing forward through the timelocked explosions to the other end of the hall. He can't keep this up for too long, and he's gotta find these assholes before they can scurry up and set up even more traps.

He releases his grip on the flow of time in the corridor the moment he's clear of the blast, and the sudden thunder of noise right behind him is enough to leave his ears ringing. But better that than blown up again, right?