legionmissions | AN EYE FOR AN EYE

The prison is different compared to many in other worlds and time periods. There's an extensive set of artificial habitats inside, in place of a typical prison yard. The less violent prisoners still spend considerable time in their cells but the prospect of getting free time out in the pleasant natural surrounds is good motivation for good behavior.

Even the more violent criminals in solitary get at least some time in the sun, in private habitat blocks. It's only the ones who are so dangerous that transfers are inadvisable that rarely get let out of their cells.

The Spectre has twisted the entire inside of the prison in his rampage, however. Whole prison blocks have been destroyed or ripped open, and many prisoners have tried to hide among some of the natural features of the artificial habitat, praying the Spectre won't turn on them next.

Even the natural world inside has been transformed and twisted. Artificial streams now run with blood, and the trees have been blackened by holy fire. Already executed prisoners hang from them, and upon closer view of some of them, sometimes the prisoners have even been turned into the trees and have been nearly hacked to pieces or have been burned black.

In the distance, there are screams, but the Legionnaires must walk across this magical minefield to find their source - and those with innocent blood on their hands may find themselves falling into traps meant to match their crimes. What's worse, the landscape seems to shift and change, and can potentially separate them.

[ooc: In this area, characters on this mission that have killed innocent people may need to be rescued by teammates from ironic death traps they suddenly find themselves in. Players must npc their own ironic death traps, but can ask the mods for help in the "Mod Questions" subthread to think them up. This can split into multiple groups/threads.]

Edited 2017-08-15 10:59 (UTC)

They can see him in the distance, rising above the bloody fields that the prison have been turned into. He's expanded to giant size. Some of the prison's worst prisoners are trapped nearby, under bell jars, as if they're insects being studied.

One by one, he's taking each of them out, weighing them upon a massive scale, and then killing them in ways that are as equally horrific as their crimes.

There are some familiar faces in those jars, trying to escape, villains the Legion have put in prison. Many members of the Legion of Supervillains, the two incarnations of Arcade, and several members of the Fatal Five, for instance. Even the murderous being called Harrow is there, trapped in his containment unit, looking outward through an unbreakable screen.

How long they wait to act is what will determine how many of those villains survive. So the question is: do they wait and let the Spectre remove some of them from the world? Do they act right away? They have a difficult choice on their hands.

One thing's for sure, whether it's now or later, the Spectre still needs to be stopped.

[ooc: The confrontation thread. The mods recommend that players ICly coordinate in the network post accompanying the plot, and coordinate OOCly, to organize groups to face the Spectre.]

Even with the Spectre defeated, the threat isn't over. There's a riot and attempted break out to foil. The prisoners need to be re-contained before the tech lockdown is over. If they manage to take over the prison, then when the technology goes back online, they'll be able to use the secure transport shuttles and T-gate hub to escape.

There's also the prospect of one of the criminals overpowering the Legionnaires and getting their hands on the Spear of Destiny, which is corrupted by the spirit of Adolf Hitler and which would give them mystical powers and domain over the minds of men.

The prison break needs to be brought under control before it's too late.

[ooc: The team will have to hold out until the end of both plots, which ICly would have them having to hold out overnight. This section of plot can have multiple threads set during the showdown.]

Nightwing has been on edge since they arrived on the station. Which isn't odd because he's pretty certain everybody else has been on edge, too. Going into the habitat area, though, only solidifies WHY he's been skirting that edge. It's dark and gruesome and he shakes his head as he pulls out his eskrima sticks, the weight of the bag that had been specially made for his powers negligible on his belt but still felt anyhow. Or, rather, what's held in that pocket of space at the moment.

"If this is what the Spectre's like when he doesn't have the usual amount of moral oversight? I'm going to give Corrigan a big hug the next time I see him."

A: Cleanup Crew of One

Amidst the chaos of an attempted jailbreak, it's something of an odd sight: a prisoner - disgruntled, yelling his head off, outlined in glowing blue and carrying a trident - walks calmly back to the first open cell and pulls the door mostly shut behind him. He then firmly whacks himself over the head with the trident and collapses into a heap, unconscious. The glow disappears, and the trident quickly transforms back into Sawtooth, who walks out of the cell, firmly shutting and locking the door behind him. It's slow going, true, but it's effective, and nobody seems to have cottoned on yet.

B: Small Fish, Big Pond

Sawtooth hadn't thought too much of it when he'd gotten separated from his fellow Legionnaires - it's a dangerous situation, but as long as he can get a hold on someone in his trident form, he should be okay.

That lasts for all of two minutes before a gang of prisoners who have decided that working together is going to get them a lot further than flying solo happen upon him and surround him. He has no time or space to transform, and while he's pretty sure he can take a few of them, all of them at once is going to be a problem, to say the least.

Um. Help?

C: Two Tanks and a Support (Closed to Shepard and Garrus)

Somehow, an enterprising group of inmates found the time, inspiration, and supplies to set up makeshift barricades down one of the high-security hallways. It would be impressive if it weren't such a pain in the tailpipe; it's also something Sawtooth can't handle on his own. Instead of trying, he's gone back to find help - he's familiar with Shepard, at least, and the other one - Garrus - looks to be one of her friends. Hopefully they have powers better suited to this situation.

"Any ideas?"

There was a part of Garrus that hadn't been certain about this whole mission. Not that the Spectre needed to be stopped, but that the inmates were worth risking the lives of the guards and the Legion over.

He feels guilty about that impulse, but if Takron Galtos lived up to it's reptutation, these were the worst criminals in the galaxy. Maybe the Spectre was doing everyone a favor by freeing up some room.

Then he saw the mission reports of the things Spectre had done in the past, and he began to understand why they needed to step in. Some of the things he saw were ... well, they went well beyond meting out justice.

What he's seeing now is a whole lot worse than even that. It's enough that, in spite of everything that he's done and everything that he's seen people do, he feels sick to his stomach.

"I'm not sure who that is," Garrus replies, not taking his eyes off of the hellscape in front of them, "But I think we should all get together and buy them a thank-you card."

Miku felt a cold chill roll across her shoulders, before she set them straighter. The people, the sense of malevolence as they walked that sank into her bones and wrapped around her heart scared her. She kept her eyes on the ground. Though she often helped with terrible murders, it didn't mean she enjoyed looked at them.

In fact, she preferred not to. "I'm having an awful sense of deja vu," she murmured to no one in particular.

They also have guns. Neither's entirely pleased about loading stun rounds only, but judging by the G-rated trail of carnage of upended furniture and handcuffed former escapees in various states of consciousness, it hasn't held them back any.

Shepard has her knee in the middle of a final prisoner's back, cuffing him while he calls her all manner of unflattering names and she ignores it. She's been insulted by better, frankly.

"We can clean out a hallway, Sawtooth." Shepard's unconcerned. Now that the Spectre's back in its box, a regular old prison riot is downright normal. She and Garrus have extensive experience in taking fortified positions. Almost relaxing, really.

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, it's just like old times.

As Shepard cuffs the latest takedown, he presses himself up to the bulkhead that leads into the fortified hall, clocking the makeshift barricades for weak points.

"Barricades are shoddy, but they might be able to take a hit or two," Garrus informs Shepard, nonchalantly glancing back at her from over his shoulder. "The way I see it we can try to pick them off, punch through, or advance to each barricade and use their cover against them."

"We get out of this in one piece and I'll tell you over drinks." Honestly, it's the 'getting out in one piece' that's the worry at the moment. The Spectre might not normally go after people who aren't murderers or serious criminals, but things seemed to have changed.

"Right. We can't do anything for the dead at the moment, but we have plenty of people here still caught in these traps. Get them out as quickly as we can and keep an eye out for...well. If he gives you the creeps, it's probably our guy."

"Because 'creepy' really narrows things down, here ..." Garrus mutters, trying to find some humor in this for his own sake.

Miku's comment about a sense of deja vu though, that draws an arched eyebrow. He wonders what the hell she could have been through that compares to this, but he decides against asking. Anything comparable has probably left some scars she'd rather not pick at.

Instead, he draws his stun pistol and nods towards the killing fields.

"Sooner we're done with this, the sooner things go back to something resembling normal. Let's get started." He starts walking.

Tadashi puts a hand on Miku's elbow, giving her a supportive smile, though a thin and shaky one. He's never seen anything like this, not outside of a movie. Looking at the horrors before them, he's not sure he can really do this, but someone has to help.

"Let's get helping."

A scarlet blur descends on the gang. Several of the prisoners get a reminder of what it's like to be punched in the face, before the blur resolves itself into the form of the Flash.

"So, I have an idea. Call me crazy, but maybe you could not immediately revert to the behavior that got you tossed in here in the first place at the first sign of freedom. Just a suggestion."

Well, this is horrifying.

It's also why they're here in the first place, and Sawtooth steels himself as best he can. Sure, the Spectre is huge now, but Sawtooth is used to being knee-high at best to everyone around him, so size isn't terribly intimidating. Horrifying punishment powers, yes, but size not so much.

"He'll kill them all if we don't move fast," he says, voice quiet under the sound of tortured screams. "Is everyone ready?"

"We're going to have to be."

Because honestly, how do you really prepare yourself for this? At a certain point, you don't really have a choice but to jump in and hope for the best.

"Stick to the plan," Garrus says to the group. "Spread out, get his attention, and make sure Nightwing has an opening."

"Watch each other's backs," He adds. It probably doesn't need to be said, but it bears repeating. The Spectre isn't going to bat an eyelash about killing any of them, and it definitely has the power to get the job done. No room for mistakes here.

Sawtooth uses the reprieve to get his wits about him, then turns in a short circle, sweeping the legs out from under one of the prisoners and punching him in the jaw on the way down. He may not be the strongest fighter in terms of hand to hand, but a metal fist is still going to win against a fleshy jaw, and the prisoner goes down hard.

"I think you might be wasting your words."

On one hand, the reassurance and the immediate discussion of tactics reassure Sawtooth that yes, he has absolutely found the right people for the job. On the other hand, his flight ring is down and his powers are very close-range, which leaves him feeling a little useless.

Or maybe he's just rattled from the fight - not with the Spectre, but with the lance. He hadn't expected it to get to him the way it had.

Either way, it takes him a moment to gather himself before speaking up. "How can I help?" Do they even know what he can do? He's honestly not sure at this point.

"Do you feel comfortable having one of us carry you in your other form?" Shepard reads personnel files because of course she does, and she's proud of herself for keeping a straight face while asking a question that's out there even by her standards. "If not, this looks straightforward enough that you can borrow my pistol and we'll treat it as a small unit tactics exercise."

It would be easier and faster if the two professional soldiers just stormed the hallway themselves, but some command instinct stops her from pushing Sawtooth to the side. For all that he's some kind of immensely sophisticated immortal robot, he feels like a new recruit, and you don't build unit cohesion by treating some of your team like burdens. She and Garrus are good enough to pick up the slack, anyway.

Speaking of Garrus, it hasn't even occurred to her that he won't back her inefficient call on this one.

It hasn't occurred to him either, honestly. He's seen her pull off enough miracles that he'll trust any calls she makes without hesitation.

The idea of carrying someone who seems to be moving around just fine on their own is a little strange, mind you, but he's willing to roll with it.

"Other form?"

Someone hasn't sat down and read the personnel files ...

"Let's do this then." Barry says, sounding way more ready than he feels. He breaks off to the left and aims a pair of arm tornadoes at the Spectre, hoping that's enough to gain the Spectre's attention, as suicidal as that sounds.

The Chief is quiet on the way in, better to leave the steadying patter to the people who are good at it. He's focused intently on the grisly scene ahead, picking out the shape of their potential battlefield.

"Watch your step," he does say as they move forward. The Spectre's broken Takron Galtos to its foundations, and stable isn't a good word for the ground through here anymore.

He's not a good enough shot to be useful on his own in this situation, and he makes a mental note to take some lessons in marksmanship once they get out of this (because they are getting out of this. He refuses to consider any alternative).

"I am, yes." He transforms, and a moment later there's a blue trident where Sawtooth used to be, balanced perfectly on its point. He has no motion in weapon form with his flight ring nonfunctional, but his balance is perfect. "If either of you has a power that's helpful in this situation, I can boost it." Only to a certain point at the moment, but it's better than nothing.

"A biotic boost never hurt," says Shepard, as though she's never walked face-first into a cloud of biotics-enhancing but lethally toxic red sand while raiding a drug ring. She's touched a whole lot of things she really shouldn't have and none of them were as mild-mannered as Sawtooth, so Shepard doesn't hesitate to take hold of the talking trident.

"...Huh." That sure feels like...something. "Uh, is it bad manners to hit people with you?" Better to ask now than have to apologize later.

"Of course not." This is literally what he was made for; there's no reason not to use him to his fullest extent, though it is a nice change to be asked for once. "But the power boost requires physical contact, so you'll lose it if you throw me."

Speaking of which...well, he hasn't actually synced with anyone since he arrived on Legion World, but there's no better time to start. "Do you trust me?"

Shepard hesitates a moment, not because she has to think about her answer, but because she's thinking about the question. No one, including her, has ever asked that before doing something normal and un-alarming.

Eh. What about the last few days hasn't been alarming? She trusts her own judgment, which is telling her Sawtooth is okay.

"Yes, but warn me if it's gonna hurt."

Wait what. That is not a normal response to that question, at least in Sawtooth's experience.

"It shouldn't?" It's not terribly reassuring, but given that he's never done this with anyone who isn't Cybertronian, he can't be sure. It's pretty accurate for being the first thing out of his mouth.

Um. Might as well give it a try.

"It's- I can provide a power boost. Will you accept it?"

"Go for it." No hesitation there.

She does brace herself. Pain represents no real deterrent for her, and since Sawtooth's not sure his...whatever it is won't hurt, better prepared than doubled over on the floor.

Okay then. It's odd that she trusts him as quickly as she does, but Sawtooth isn't about to examine that too deeply, and he trusts her just the same, more than enough for this to work.

Hopefully.

He reaches for the bond between them that sparked at the first physical contact and leans into it. A blue glow suffuses him and surges over Shepard, bringing with it speed and strength and all the power he can provide, which is a considerable amount despite his size. There is absolutely nothing subtle about this, but subtlety isn't the point.

He's ready when she is.

No one's ever accused Shepard of being subtle.

"Whoa." She looks down at herself, the blue glow reminiscent of her normal biotics, but it sure feels different. "That's a hell of a talent you've got."

"Alright then," Garrus says, drawing out the first syllable of 'alright' as though he's not quite sure what to make of all of this.

"I guess you take point and I'll cover?"

Praise for his function is about the last thing Sawtooth ever expects to hear, so it comes as a nice surprise. "Thank you." He certainly doesn't feel useless anymore, that's for sure. "Now let's go clear a hallway."

"This is gonna be a lot easier than I thought." If that sounds a little predatory, well...deeply ethical and cool under pressure though she is, Shepard would not have gotten as far as she has if she didn't enjoy a little mayhem. Or a lot of mayhem.

She gestures for Garrus to take cover against the bulkhead...then rips the first barricade away with a surge of biotics, the ease of it taking her aback. It's one thing to be told you're getting a power boost. It's another to hurl a few hundred kilos of assorted junk like sweeping a table clear.

"...Sprock," says a man in a prison jumpsuit who now has no cover.

"If you stand down now, it'll hurt less," says Shepard.

Edited 2017-08-31 15:20 (UTC)

Shepard's not the only one caught off guard by that. Garrus looks from Shepard, to the spot where the barricade used to be, to Sawtooth, and then back to Shepard.

Then, he actually laughs - the giddy laugh of someone who is anticipating something amazing.

"As much as I want to see this, you should really take that advice."

The Spectre mostly just looks outraged at the attacks. They don't hurt him at all but they do distract and enrage him, deflecting his attention away from the prisoners he was creatively murdering.

His voice booms through the bloody nightmare realm he's made inside the prison.

"Who dares interfere in my mission of vengeance? Begone, lest I judge you as well! So says... The Spectre!"

Edited 2017-09-03 06:07 (UTC)

While the others set up a distraction, Nightwing goes to work. He pulls out a specially created bag, which is basically a zipped up 'pocket', maybe an inch deep. It doesn't need to be deep, though, because the only reason he has it is to access his pocket dimension.

He opens it up, reaching in and visualizing the case. He pulls it out, folding the pocket and tucking it away again before opening the case and pulling out the Spear. He hefts it as he gets to his feet, looking around and ignoring the faint whispering at the back of his mind. Something that's easy right now but would be more difficult the longer he held it.

In standing, though, Nightwing realizes that he's in a bad place to actually get a strike in. Too many...not innocents in the way, but people who didn't deserve to die. That's what they're here for, after all. But, also, the current distractions would only last so long. The Spectre seemed to have found himself a rather...large host.

He could find a place to get a better shot from, but that would take time.

Nightwing looks around again, then runs to Garrus' side, pressing the Spear into his hand. "I can't get a good shot. I'll go make sure you can." After all, Garrus is one of the tallest of them. It'll help, with any luck.

Then he splits off, running toward the Spectre while giving a loud, sharp whistle to grab the...man's attention. "That'd be us, Spectre. And man, I'm sure Jim Corrigan wouldn't be impressed with your current mission, would he?"

Just turn this direction, he thinks, moving so that the Spectre's attention is away from Garrus and that side of the fight. Keep your eye on the birdie.

Garrus, for his part, had been doing whatever he could to keep's Spectre's attention. He kept up a steady barrage of glimmering energy cannonballs - each one taking a wide, curving arc to impact the Spectre from an odd angle. They didn't seem to do any appreciable damage of course, but they didn't need to as long as they kept him distracted.

He was about to hurl another when Dick appears at his side, offering the spear.

There's a part of Garrus that's reluctant to take it - that would much rather wave Dick off and tell him to find someone else. It'd probably be better that way. Garrus might have commendable discipline under fire, but self-control? Resisting some of his darker, more destructive impulses when he really gets pushed?

He's been less than great about that.

But he doesn't say any of that. Garrus has only known Dick for a little while, but he's got the sense that Dick knows what he's doing. If he's handing the spear off, it's because he believes Garrus has a better shot at getting this done than he does. Garrus might not share that assessment, but he trust's Dick's instincts and he knows that every second they wait was a chance for things to spiral out of control.

So, instead of arguing, he nods and takes the spear without hesitation. As Dick sprints off, Garrus moves as well. He can hear the whispering in the back of his mind as he searches for a vantage point. The words are indistinguishable, but they send an icy chill running down his spine.

Let's make this quick.

"Corrigan is at peace. His path, or how closely I walk in it, doesn't matter here," he says in reply to Dick.

"If it did, I'd think he'd approve. The Spectre is beyond bureaucracy, beyond the worldly binds that interfere with justice. All the murderers, rapists, and traitors simply face an earthly taste of their eternal punishments. Is it any wonder that two of my longest-lasting hosts, eager to apply the rod, were once officers of the law?"

The Spectre looks up from the distractions and sees Garrus coming. He swats at him with a massive hand.

Crap. Garrus throws up a wall of force, but it cracks and shatters almost instantly under the Spectre's blow. The impact has him seeing stars, tumbling end-over-end in a semi-conscious daze.

The spear flies out of his hand.

And lands near Sawtooth, who dives for it. He's more accustomed to being a weapon than wielding one, but they'd all been briefed on the spear - how to use it, and what it could do if they held on to it for too long - and now that he has it, it's up to him.

Never mind the cold whispers that start up in his processor the second he picks up the spear. Those aren't important right now.

Fortunately for Sawtooth, he's spent most of his life moving around people who outsize him and wish him harm. He's had years of practice in staying unnoticed, and he uses them all now, darting behind cover and getting as close to the Spectre as possible, to where the Spectre would have to turn almost all the way around and crane his neck to see Sawtooth. There - he's close enough - he just has to-

He reaches out and jabs the spear into the Spectre, envisioning him in the most secure container he can think of: a Cybertronian stasis pod.

...a very small Cybertronian stasis pod, because someone is going to have to carry it out of here.

The man raises his hands and drops to his knees, wearing the shocked expression Shepard's gotten used to seeing over the years. Usually she has to smash through several lines of defense like a krogan through a daycare to get it, but glowing blue and holding a trident while you toss around furniture with your mind is good for improving your intimidation attempts, apparently. Note to self.

She catches the movement out of the corner of her eye. Something that small flying through the air is always, always bad, and she reflexively throws up a barrier around herself and her kneeling captive.

"Grenade!"

Edited (forgot an important detail) 2017-09-04 23:08 (UTC)

A shimmering dome of blue energy appears, enveloping the makeshift grenade and whipping it into the no man's land in the middle of the hall. It detonates inside the construct with a dull thud - the bubble cracks, but doesn't break.

Glad to know he can actually stop something with it, because between intangible sociopaths and would-be gods that's been hit or miss.

Garrus pokes out from cover, a blue marble forming in the palm of his hand. It zips down the hallway - a low velocity, less-than-lethal projectile - towards the criminal who had lobbed the grenade.

"I've got your back. Take 'em!"

"Where the hell did you get grenades?" The prisoner is no longer kneeling, because Shepard has him by the collar, partly for intimidation, but mostly for more efficient dragging as she muscles him around the corner and into cover. His buddies don't seem to care about collateral.

It only takes the man a moment to weigh the odds between potential retaliation and immediate terror. "Not grenades. S'a power."

Great. That means they're not going to run out.

"Your cooperation is appreciated." Only Shepard could say that right now and mean it...but it doesn't stop her from shooting him with a stun round from her pistol, and his expression of confusion at her apparent sincerity melts into blank unconsciousness.

She pops her head around the corner again as her personal barrier springs into existence around her, the shimmering biotics combining with Sawtooth's blue light to the point where the glow is enough to read by.

Then, grinning, she charges.

Unless there's a Daxamite hiding back there, this is going to be quick.

"No!" The Spectre struggles, but as the pod forms, it starts drawing him in, like a Genie being sucked into a lamp. Even though it looks like a stasis pod, it looks like it's made entirely of stone.

"The will of the Lord cannot be denied!"

For a moment, the Spectre briefly detaches from his host, a human man who had died during the floods of Naltor, with his family, early on in the new Legion's career. But the man seems just as outraged.

"They deserve to suffer! It's not fair that they're still alive when my family's dead!"

The two merge again and as the Spectre is drawn into the pod, he says, "I see your sins, Legionnaires. Before this, I was content to punish those that weren't fighting against the end of days, but know this! If I ever gain my freedom again, you will face God's reproach! No matter what world you flee too, no matter what dimension you cower in, you shall be juuuudged!"

And then he's trapped, and only wisps of green smoke and the smell of brimstone remain.

The transformed prison suddenly transforms back to the holographic prison yards and cell blocks it had once been. The gathered villains slump inside their clear cell pods in relief.

For a moment, Sawtooth is grateful that normal stasis pods don't work that way.

But the Spectre continues to hurl threats, and his last words strike entirely too close to home. For a moment, Sawtooth is back on Cybertron again, fleeing with his brothers from a war criminal that wanted them for nothing but the power they could provide, running to Earth and still not being able to escape, even as Cybertron stood by and did nothing, because what did a group of Minicons mean to a planet that saw them as objects?

The whispers coalesce, burrowing deeper into his mind, and he snarls. "I don't think so. I'm done being hunted."

And then there's the Chief, moving to pull the spear out of Sawtooth's grip before that snarl can deepen. Sawtooth may be a robot, but the Chief is a Spartan.

"You're done, period," he says. Easy, kid. It's over. They need to put the spear back where it belongs before anyone else can go on a power-maddened justice trip today.

AN EYE FOR AN EYE - [modplot/log]

PART 1 - THE KILLING FIELDS

PART 2 - THE SPECTRE

PART 3 - PRISON BREAK

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