Summary:Bad Ass Girls On Bikes Vs. Gangsters In Armored Cars. Shit Gets Real. Log Info:Storyteller: Rose Wilson |
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It was all over the news, and currently being broadcast by at least two news centers live, each off a different helicopter feed. Not one, but two, two armored cars had been hijacked. According to the live news feeds, which more or less aligned with chatter on law enforcement comm systems, the culprits were an unknown entity, clearly an organized gang working in tandum. The news report would go on to say that both of the armored cars were carrying each a large amount of cash, and each had crashed through two different police barriers and were now on the highways heading out of town at a terrible speed.
What the news reports weren't aware of is that one of the armored cars had been escorted, and had a large amount of experimental tech on it, while the other was carrying close to $100 million in assests of cash, mineral, and gemstones. The police chatter clarifies this, and emphasized the need to stop the armored cars before they got too far or endangered anyone any further. As of yet, there had been only a few minor accidents among the civilians and several police cars and equipment damaged. And, in each armored car, there was at least one of the original crew that had not been accounted for while all the others had been knocked out and tied up. That meant hostages.
Ravager had already, by chance, been suited up when the call came in about the first armored car, and therefore was already on her way towards the mayhem when the second was reported also. Her motorcycle weaves in and out of traffic, sideswiped cars, catching up with the no-holds-barred driving from the two armored vehicles, hellbent on making out it out of the city.
Blackbird is finally well on the way to recovery from her encounter with a semi-automatic rifle at close range, so what better way to celebrate than a motorcycle chase? Surely that won't end in death or disfigurement, after all. She was listening to the chatter when the first truck was reported, and suited up by the time the second came on the air.
Leaving the Batmobile behind in favor of increased manueverability, she's hunched over her motorcycle as she zips between cars on her way toward the armored trucks.
Not one to watch the news much, and certainly not one to listen to law enforcement comm frequencies, Priscilla Kitaen is roaring along the roads on her motorcycle for an entirely mundane reason: she was on the way from Point A - the former vehicle repair garage serving as her home and safehouse - and Point B, in this case a bank where she was going to access a safety deposit box where some of the guardians' financial reserves and documents have been kept.
Then someone robbed the truck that picked up a load of cash from said bank, and crashed through a vehicle on the way out, right in front of said motorcycle-riding stripper and alien hunter.
Now? Now the Ducati - or so it appears - that she rides is burning along after said armored car, looking for an opening, its leather- and demim-clad rider slung low over the bars purple helmet with the emerald coiled dragons on either side a clear badge only to anyone who has actually seen Voodoo perform onstage. She can ignore a lot, but the feeling of pain and terror inside and around those trucks is too much to let pass.
It isn't too often that Batwoman breaks out Red Knight One. That sleek black and red motorcycle is a thing of beauty, a custom superbike from start to finish. Right now, she isn't so much going after the armoured cars as she is tailing Blackbird, cape fluttering behind her. She's here to provide backup, and see what the youngest active member of the family has to do. As a result, Batwoman is pacing the group a street over, looking for good opportunities to duck through an alley and cut in. While moving at a ridiculous speed that would make any such maneuver wildly dangerous. To add to the confusion, she is weaving in and out of traffic, leaving confused drivers and minor chaos in her wake.
Junko had opted to leave her Ford Mustang GT in blazing orange at home for this night, instead having grabbed her Suzuki GSX-S750Z. Midnight black carbon and metal hiding 149 cubic to get it up to 113 horsepowers. As she saton the bike, clad in her rather simple black bike combination, hugging her tightly, she eyed the streets. Blue lights… She stopped a moment, stepping off to grab a white lab-coat devoided of sleves from a little compartment at the side, slipping it on before firing the engine up.
The engine howled as she reved it a couple times, the front wheel lifting as she powers it down the road, her red hair flowing in the wind, her face decorated with a red domino. Who needed a helmet anyway? Junko clearly had opted not to wear one. And soon she pulled up from a sideroad to a little feft and behind the Red Knight One.
There is pain, and terror in the truck. Yes. But, there is also cool confidence. Competence. Prisicilla's empathic resonance would tell her quickly that the people in charge of this, however chaotic the escape and driving might be, are more than professionals. They're experts.
Ravager is in full gear, and full costume - and as she looks back, momentarily, as her motorcycle begins to put her in pace with the trucks, seeing Blackbird - and Priscilla behind her.
There's a chuckle, briefly from Ravager's throat and she says to herself, "Nobody lets a girl do a job solo anymore. This should be interesting."
Then, in the vivid night there's a bright flare of orange-fire, cascading out from Ravager's hand - to Helena's eyes at least it would seem that Ravager just ignited a goddamn lightsaber.
Ravager kicks the motorcycle into high gear, then, moving up and alongside one of the armored cars. It swerves and tries to knock her off the road but she's too good. Instead, she cuts the speed by a fraction to fall behind, then steers behind it from right to left, gunning it suddenly towards the rear wheel. There's a slash-crack of the energy blade and then suddenly the armored car doesn't have a rear wheel any longer. The weight of the car slams into the road, and the rear wheel goes bouncing back behind the armored cars, and Ravager with no warning.
Sparks fly as the back bumper hits the pavement.
With Ravager drawing fire, Blackbird guns the engine to pull up closer on the other side of the truck. Step one: tracker. With a flick of her wrist, she throws a small, blinking disk onto the underside of the truck, the better to track them down if they should manage to make an escape. Step two: try to keep this from taking out anyone else.
While the driver is occupied with the loss of a wheel, Blackbird zips up ahead of the truck, reaching into a bag at the side of her bike to pull out a spike strip. Of course, she'll need to get in front of the truck and not get shot in order to deploy it.
OK. Glowy energy blade. That's interesting. Priscilla jukes her bike to avoid the bouncing lost wheel, then jukes again to clear herself from the cascade of sparks as the metal of the truck grinds against the asphalt. Then she guns the engine, pulling up to and then trying to pass Blackbird. She honestly has no idea who these other women are on these motorcycles, but she's beginning to wonder how it is she has run into an entire passel of them, and every last one is as calm, determined, and impossibly confident in their capabilities as her old teachers and teammates.
It's annoying, but reassuring.
Priscilla's bike guns up right behind Blackbird as the woman makes her move. But she does not try to get in front of the truck, and instead waits until an attacker tries to get a weapon out to aim for Blackbird; then she strikes, grabbing a chain from around her waist and whipping it out to strike and wrap around the limb holding such a weapon, then yanking with far more might than her body should hold.
Blackbird is aiming to put out spike strips while Ravager assaults the an itself. With pricilla providing cover that means it is Batwoman's cue. She guns the engine on her bike, pulling ahead of the convoy. She has the advantage of not being shot at or, indeed, noticed in the slightest. At least until she cuts a sharp right turn through an intersection. Tires squeal as the bike is forced to suddenly change direcitons. Sh e fishtails briefly before drifting around the corner and ending up on the far side of the vehicles in question.
People who were shooting and shouting are probably staring dumbly. Batwoman revs her bike, the roar echoing off the buildings. She's heading right for them in a daring display of sheer bravado that would be likely to get a lesser woman killed. It's chicken, except that Batwoman has no intention of actually facing them down. It's really more of a distraction…
"Blackbird. Now!" The red and black bike will veer off just in time… Unless, of course, something gets in the way.
The black Suzuki with the woman in black, the red hairs flying behind her like fire, dodges barely the jumping back wheel before the driver swerves to the right side, pretty much mirroring the move of Blackbird and Priscilla. She lifts her left hand off the handle, the hand engulfed in blue fire before she hurls it at the front wheel to cook the rubber and set it ablaze before she hits the breaks to try to not get hit if the car has to pull sideways because of another lost tire.
Ravager's energy katana continues to flare in the night, a sigil and a beacon of determination as she rounds to the other armored car, even as everyone seems to nearly be working in perfect unison to thwart and deviate the robbers of these two trucks.
Between the loss of the right rear tire, and the cooked other front tire in blue-flame, the armored cars crash into one another with a loud crunching and twisting of metal as they lose control, momentum slowing down as brakes are hit and the spike strip deployed, thanks to Batwoman's distraction and Blackbird's driving all pay off in one huge bonus round of chaos.
One man is pulled free, the man that Priscilla had literally ripped and pulled out of the vehicle, his arm either broken or dislocated, but even as he's flying out the window and before he hits the ground his head turns to look towards Pris - his head wrapped in a thick armored shell of black, as the rest of him. He lands, rolls, tumbles across the concrete and then he's up, and standing on his feet, and using his good arm, he yanks back on Pris' chain with cold efficency to tug her off the bike in return.
Ravager screeches her bike to a halt, turning wildly and she's off, lighting yet a second energy blade and holding one in each hand, prepared.
From the wreckage, several people tumble out of the back, of the driver's side, even one through the windshield.
There are a total of six men, and three women that make it out, besides the one already out thanks to Pris. All of them in black from head to toe, but no sign of the hostages. One of them calls in a female voice, "Alpha team to Beta. We're moving to Plan B. Expected resistance encountered. Taking action."
She moves her hand and suddenly, the cement rolls up and seems to flow, fluid and shapless, to create a systematic wall of protection around the group, while a few others open fire on the would-be heroes.
Blackbird grins when she sees Batwoman headed their way, deploying the strip and pulling her bike hard to the side out of the way once it's been dropped. The grin fades, though, as the people who step out are well-armed, well-armored, and apparently prepared for this. Crap.
Her bike comes to a hard stop and she kicks off of it, diving for cover behind the wreckage of the truck as the bullets start flying. That's an experience she doesn't need to repeat. With a twist of her thumb over the side of her index finger, she's linking comms with Kate. "Hey Batwoman. These guys look at all familiar to you?"
Gather intel before proceeding mode engaged.
Once the yank of her chain did the job Pris set out to accomplish, she released the chain rather than hold on; her goal was accomplished. But when she sees that her target is so armored up that he's ready to continue the fight despite his ruined arm and being yanked out of a speeding vehicle by it, she serves to avoid the crashing vehicles and brakes hard, going sideways to bleed off velocity. Her kickstand goes down and she dismounts, striding towards him even as the wall erects behind her, the battle joined.
There's really not much apparent point in conversation, not that anyone could hear anyone else with these helmets in the way. Priscilla could communicate if she wanted, but for now she is keeping her brain as much to herself as she is capable of doing; feeling the terror of the hostages is hard enough, thanks. She stalks towards the man now wielding her former chain, showing no weapon of her own whatsoever.
That should probably be a warning, if this guy has any sense at all. But then again, look what he does for a living. Probably not.
"I wish I could say they were, Blackbird,"the reply will come over Batowman's helmet radio. She ednds up screeching to a halt mere meters from the devastation, her back quite hot to the touch. She's climbing down now, reaching for her belt - and what appears to be a gun. Checking that the weapon is loaded Bawoman is aiming it at the mercenaries which are incoming.
Someone no doubt takes cover. It's not likely they expect the shot to be not a bullet at all, but a pellet. It explodes into a small cloud of pepper gas, big enough to envelope a couple of people who weren't expecting it. "You alright so far, Blackbird?" Kate is a tall figure in black and crimson, red hair flowing behind her with her cape. She's standing unafraid, right in front of the entire procession. She is, in other words, a target. At lest the bike is bulletproof.
Junko has to power the bike back to not get crushed betwen the cars, stopping it again some yards out of the crash zone. She steps off, propping it up and pulling a Katana out off a sheath along the side of the bike's body, grinning widely as she moves to circle the crashed cars, the blade balanced in the left hand, ready to act.
The man with the chain facing off against Pris says nothing, no banter, no threats. Instead, he whips the chain around a few times as if showing off, and then he whips the chain across his body as if to ward her off, but it unleashes a wave of powerful kinetic energy that sends Pris backwards, into that cement wall the woman had just formed, and hard. These people aren't playing around.
Gunfire opens up on Batwoman and Blackbird, a hail of automatic rifle fire from behind that selfsame concrete wall of safety, while the woman continues to speak into what must be a comm system in her helmet. "Requesting extraction. SHIELD will be arriving in approximately fifteen minutes. Over." Her voice is calm, calculated, casual. Ravager charges her, her energy blades blazing but she is suddenly overwhelmed and caught up in a spiraling cone of fluidic concrete which then freezes in place, trapping her there up to her chin.
One of the men reaches into the back of the truck and pulls out another man, tied, gagged, bound, and in uniform. He points a gun to the man's head, and simply states, "Back off, heroes."
More gunfire unleashes on Junko's position, the group seeking to kill,and eliminate, clearly.
"Oh yeah, I'm great," Blackbird assures, leaning over to peek out of her cover. "Totally. Although I feel like this sort of thing is supposed to be handled by the X-Men?" Think, Helena. Be smart. No need to get a civilian killed, but letting these guys get away…that seems like it would also be bad.
She reaches into her belt, pulling out a smoke grenade and priming it. She has a chance at being able to at least cloud the field, but these guys aren't playing around and she's only got comms to Batwoman. "Can you get the hostage? On one, two…"
The unnerving thing is that when Pris is pushed backwards she just adapts, having sensed the man was bracing for an attack, twisting in mid-air to land feet-first against the concrete wall, flexing her knees and then pushing off at an angle, flipping up and over the wall. Then she turns … and stares at the guy holding the gun to the hostage's head.
Pris could quip. Heroes? What heroes? But no one would hear it. Yet the man holding the gun on that hostage is definitely going to hear something: the roaring sound of his own bloodflow, as a mighty force closes around his brain and squeezes fiercely, paralytically. The will of Voodoo needs no words, it simply is: freeze, motha' f'cker.
Even Batwoman has to go for cover when the automatic weapons fire begins in earnest. The scream of bullets reaches an impossible crescendo, the echo of rounds hitting bikes, the truck, the ground becoming sheer cacophony. Batwoman ducks for cover beside one of the destroyed trucks, crouching slightly as she readies a weapon. This time, she goes for one of the batarangs as Blackbird's voice is coming over the comms. Two…
"Three!" Batwoman emerges from cover at that number and lobs the specially designed 'fang' at the bunman holdign the prisoner. At the same time, he's being willed to freeze. It all happens in an instant, with the Crismon Knight's projectile destined to knock the gun from the man's hand and send it skittering to the ground. At the same time, with smoke appearing, Kate has the opportunity to close the distance on the robbers.
In smoke, Batwoman is a haunting, ethereal figure, shaped as much like a monster as a person. That cape will draw a lot of bullet fire when the Bat finally tries to engage.
Junko curses as the gunfire aims for her, dodging against the side of the vehicle, trying to evade getting hit but a stray grazes her right arm. With a suppressed groan she starts to run towards the shooters, sliding over the wet asphalt in an attempt to get to them. A couple more bullets rip through the smoke at her cloth, cut flesh as she throws herself sideways, the blade still in the hand. But she crosses the empty space and finally throws herself agains tthe concrete wall the bandits have errected, trying to pull one of the people's weapons out of their hands while stabbing after them.
Suddenly the man holding the hostage is, indeed, frozen in place as if his nerve endings refused to respond to the synpases in his brain, or he'd become completely paralyzed. Though, in the sudden smoke that follows suit and 'blinds' those within the cluster of arms and ammo that might become a bit more difficult to detect to the other women presently engaged.
Then Batwoman's batarang knocks the gun from his frozen hand out, sending the semi-automatic to skitter to the ground - but he can't call out what's happened to him and there's too much other noise that drowns it out. For a few precious moments, this well-organized gang is clueless their hostage is no longer a bargaining chip against the threat they're facing.
Out of the smoke, the metahuman female who seems to be the head of this group suddenly is moving forwards in way that's difficult to describe other than she's moving, fast, the cement churning behind her, and about her feet which are - cement as well. Her entire body is turning that off-color grey of cement as she barrels towards Blackbird as if she were water-skiing on cement, but with no boat towing her.
Another one of the group members is pulled out of the safety of the cement wall that had protected them, stabbed, though Junko will feel the knife pushing into resistant cloth that will protect the wearer. Weaponless, the gang member tries to fight back, calling, "They're breeching!" to the rest of his team.
From the imprisoned and uprised cone of concrete she was entrapped in, Ravager's energy blades flare to life, snapping and hissing and stabbing through the concrete in a blaze. But that was just where the blades were. It will likely take her a few more moments to break free completely. The sound she makes, guttural, is one of a very, very angry woman.
"Uh, hi, maybe not-" Blackbird knows that trying to talk these people down is pretty definitely not going to work. But there's no harm in looking like she doesn't know any better. It might give her the split second of surprise she'll need for her next move.
It looks like she's stepping back, one hand out as the other takes out the staff strapped to her back, trying to retreat. But she's already seen this woman shape concrete at will, so better that she think there's no need to. She waits, like a matador with a bull, until the last possible second. Only then does she plant her staff and try to flip up, wrapping the tail of her cape around the woman's head and shoulders.
The will crushing the nerves of the hostage-holder now commands him to cut the hostage's bonds, setting him free, as Voodoo jumps down off of the wall into the enclosure of these attackers and stalks forward. Whenever she becomes visible in the smoke, another round wings her way and slams into her. Through her. Blood flows. Her shoulder rocks back, her leg tries to buckle beneath her. But the woman in the purple motorcycle helmet keeps stalking forward towards the hostage, until she reaches out and grabs the hostage, tossing them up on her shoulder as she grabs a knife from the gear belt, lifts it, and slices his attacker's throat with enough force to nearly decapitate.
Time to go.
Priscilla stalks towards the two crashed armored vehicles, zeroing in on the feeling of the other terrified hostage's emotions, and heads inside to find them.
Junko tosses her unarmed opponent to the ground before she climbs over the concrete barrier herself, her black suit exposing flesh and a couple wounds given to her by the guns. Whoever remains behind the barrier, she's going after them, focussing on the fleshy targets.
The concrete meta swings at Blackbird, but the other's training proves to be the coup de grace in this particular portion of their encounter, and with the aid of her staff and acrobatics, Blackbird's able to avoid the attack, and blind her opponent with her cape.
"Impressive," the woman says, and turns to spread her fingers out directly at Blackbird, several pellets of concrete flying from her splayed fingers immediately.
Then the woman's attention is divereted, as Ravager shatters the rest of her prison, and, dual blades in hand, begins to charge directly towards the concrete metahuman that's on Blackbird, but the chain-weilder, forgotten about? Slashes through the air again with a chain, and she's forced to pause, dodge that kinetic wave of energy that slices through and slams, cracking and busting a hole into the concrete wall.
As the explosive sound of concrete echoes, the hostage-holder slices the bonds of his charge as instructed, and then crumples as Voodoo slashes his throat with his own knife. Inside, she will find two more hostages, equally as terrified at the sound of gunfire and everything else that's happened to them today. She will also find a small, empty suitcase attached to one of the man's hands. Inside it? It appears a small device had been stored, not bigger than a tennis ball can by the outline of the protective shell inside the briefcase.
Batwoman says over Blackbird's come, "Flashbang," and shoots one of her special rounds straight at the cement meta, to give the other Bat a chance of separation, and plan of attack.
Seeing Batwoman and Blackbird have that situation in hand, she turns her attention onto the kinetic, and one of the energy blades is exchanged for a pistol, she fires, rapidly, forcing the kinetic to duck for cover and go on the defense.
There are a couple more behind the wall that's now broken apart, and as the smoke clears they see Junko approaching, one turns his gun towards her while another, empty of rounds and unable to reload too fast, grabs a knife and charges her.
In the distance, a sleek black airborne vehicle, a cross between a plane and helicopter begins to rush into the area.
Ow! That hurts! Blackbird grunts when the concrete comes after her, but she had more than one step in her plan. See, the thing she learned from her mother (among others) is that very few people think to insulate their costumes or armor against electricity. And what she learned from her very first real fight in the field is that if you're going to have a cape, then you damn well better make it good for more than just fashion.
With her cape wrapped around the meta's head and shoulders, she activates the electric charge that runs through the material, delivering a solid couple of tasers worth of shock.
Priscilla lays the recovered hostage down beside the others, and lays her hands on the other two, calming them as she checks them for injury. And then …
« Don't know who out there is going to give a shit. But these assholes grabbed some kind of tech dohickey from a case in here. Just over twelve inches long, guessing it's about two inches, maybe two and a half in diameter. Hostages are safe. »
Priscilla doesn't have comm gear. Or rather, what she has is tuned to frequencies no one here uses, using encryption patterns that no one else here could hear. So she does what she can to communicate. Please pardon the searing pain of the headaches that induces; she doesn't do 'subtle' where her telepathy is concerned.
Wounded and pissed, Junko steps into the assaulting one with the knife, her left hand bringing the hilt down in a sharp movement, the blade following for the fingers much faster, aiming to remove the blades by cutting the fingers off the body… before she reaches for the mutilated hand to pull the guy over as a human shield against the guy still left with bullets. If he wanted to kill, should he kill his friend…
Bullets slam from one gun into one of the thugs at Junko's manipulation of positioning, and chance. With the armor on, they don't kill, but they hurt like hell and protect her from the gunfire, giving her opportunity to finish off the last lone gunmen. That is, if she can get past Pris' telepathy and the headache that follows.
The electrical discharge through Blackbird's cape provides all the validity she needed that it was, in fact, a good idea as the ensuing screams that follow cause the woman's concrete form to change back to flesh, and leave her unconscious on the ground, no longer a threat for the moment.
Ravager manages to rip a bullet through the kinetic's kneecap, causing him to stumble as she chases him down, even as the black airborne vehicle gets closer. There's a warmth, and whoosh of jets, loud and obnoxious as it arrives on scene, gusting air as the wings invert to allow it to drop down like a helicopter towards the ground, bathing everything down on it in an immediate light.
He holds out his hand, and from the palm of his hand a light erupts, a focused beam and it hits the ground, exploding in a blinding flash and a woosh of air like a bubble pushing outwards.?
And, suddenly — everything is — slow.
It's like living through a movie in slow motion. Or, in one of those not-quite-nightmarish dreams where no matter how much you want to move, how much you try, you just move So. Damn. Slowly. One second, streched into minutes. Even sound, and pain are drawn out, affected, the entire realm of physics altered to the near-suspension of time.
Everyone in the immediate area is affected. But, those two men descending from the ropes? They aren't. One of them moves to the unconscious concrete woman. The other, walks over to the kinetic, and picks him up as well before returning to the tow lines. They leave the heroes alone, and just as the vehicle begins to lift, and the tow lines begin to retract, the inversion of time and movement releases them all from it's entrapment.
They saved the hostages. Saved the money, even. But it appears that tech that Pris had warned them about? Is probably getting away. Along with the two group leaders.
At least, for now.
Blackbird hits the pavement once the woman is down, starting to turn toward the craft just as the man begins to slow down time. So slow. But she's still right next to the woman, practically on top of her. If she can just use that time to plant one more tracer… She tries, at least. Whether or not she has the time. And as they retreat, there's still the relief that they haven't taken advantage of the slowed time to slaughter everyone, including her. Positive thoughts!
Unable to really see everything that is happening outside, Voodoo doesn't know why things go all wonky, at least not right away. She can tell they are wonky, and that the aircraft she glimpsed earlier is here, but not how those two directly connect. Her open mind, however, can tell that two figures are not trapped and frustrated by this effect, and that they are very purposefully retrieving two comrades and preparing to extract themselves.
Priscilla considers reaching out, trying to compel the pilot to crash. But frankly, she has what she came for: the hostages. And damnit … her psionics are exhausting. She's tired. Reaching out to compel a mind that hard, not able to see the results, could get innocent people killed. So she just lets them go. Just don't blame her if she made a point of rifling through the thoughts and memories of those two retrieval specialists a bit before they left range.
That information could be useful. Maybe.
Junko tried to go after the shootist even through the headach and pain, but before she managed to get over, the blade lowered to fix the guy in an upstrike, time slows down. Her eyes follow a stray bullet running just past her face, a drop of sweat running down the forehead of the thug. Then time returns and she stumbles, just slamming the hilt into the belly of the thug instead of cutting open the leg artery while both stumble backwards. She grooans as they tumble to the ground and she sends a small fireball after the lifting off machine… even though it might not even make it before she passes out.
Ravager has experienced a lot of different things before - but, suspension? That's not been one of them. Ever. And, it disturbs her on a level unprecedented because of how absolutely vulnerable she is. She. Cannot. Act. All she has to do is pull the trigger. But that strain to try and do so is so immense —
And when the murkiness of that time suspension lifts a single shot rings out, firing blankly into the street where the kinetic had been.
She curses. Loudly. Even as she looks up at the parting aircraft.
Junko's fireball just misses the wings as they rotate again to mimic a plane, and the jets fire to speed them away.
She looks over at the damage caused - the freeway will be in emergency constructioni for some time, and the two armored cars upturned, as well as the sacrrifical lambs they left leave her to wonder, "Just who the hell were those guys?" Her mood, clearly, is a bitter one.
Blackbird straightens up once the time-bubble pops, shaking her head to Ravager. "Not a damned clue," she answers. "But they were…" It's hard to say it. "They knew what they were doing. And they had powers. Shit." Never a good combination. It's always easier when it's just one or the other.
Voodoo emerges from the back of the truck, hands raised high to make sure no one decides to shoot at her. She glances around, taking in the others and the aircraft's passage, then stalks over towards the other biker women. The bulletholes are still in her clothes, but beyond some stains of blood, no wounds show in her actual flesh behind those holes. Her voice is pretty muffled by her helmet, but she uses that, not her telepathy.
"They think of themselves as 'The Nothing.' And they were … not normal in the head, either. Not quite a network, but they were pretty hollow, without much if any personality beyond their roles as soldiers." The woman in the purple helmet doesn't explain how she knows that. She just delivers that information, and looks at the others a bit oddly. She has never been one to hang around 'superheroes'. So this is weird for her. "Uhm. I'm assuming somebody called for an ambulance, and caps, and stuff?" Because if so, she wants to get the heck out of here. She's wondering right now if she could manage to carry the unhelmeted redhead with her on her bike, rather than leaving her behind. But she's betting not.
Ravager stares at Pris, and says, succinctly, "Fuck me." Though, this is said not in the flirtacious sense, but rather's it's more oft use pegorative disctinction. She exhales, looking between those gathered, and those fallen.
"I am NOT dealing with SHIELD today." There's a glance to those in black on the ground again, to Junko, and a look to Blackbird. "You like talking to people. You do that."
And, before Blackbird can argue, Ravager is mounting her motorcycle, even as ambulances and police sirens (likely being followed or escorted by at least some SHIELD operatives) are just a minute or so away.
Ravager guns her motorcycle, "It was fun," she tells them all.
A smirk. "Best motorcycle gang ever. If only for a night." Then, she's gunning the motorcycle away from the encroaching emergency services.
"I don't- That's not-" Blackbird pauses, looking at the chaos around herself, then sighs. "I didn't volunteer for this!" she calls after Rose, muttering a bit under her breath. "The only bat-person in history to stick around and talk to the authorities."
The woman in the purple helmet sighs and shrugs her shoulders; she'd have preferred Rose was actually being sexually suggestive. She wasn't, and such is life. Voodoo shrugs and walks away. She doesn't even say anything; she just walks over and scoops up the redhead, hoisting her over her shoulders, and then walks to her bike, mounts, kicks up the stand, jumps to start and revs the engine, then drops the redhead in front of her, arms around her waist, and drives away. She won't leave anyone to the cops without knowing if they'll still be OK.
Not today.