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snowblindrpg2016-05-10 01:52 pm
plundering) wrote in snowblindrpg2016-05-10 01:52 pm
[log] FRANKEN STEIN CALL OUT POST [closed]
Characters: Fiona, Rhys (kinda), Angel, Watson, Stein, Haurchefant, Beckett, Ecks
Location Building 35
Date: Morning/Day 116
Summary: The Rescue Squad hunts down Stein and "Rhys", everything goes horribly wrong
Warnings: Violence ofc, kidnapping, talk of non-consensual brain surgery, injury, THIS LOG IS ALSO A MESS
okay guys GET TERRIBLE
Location Building 35
Date: Morning/Day 116
Summary: The Rescue Squad hunts down Stein and "Rhys", everything goes horribly wrong
Warnings: Violence ofc, kidnapping, talk of non-consensual brain surgery, injury, THIS LOG IS ALSO A MESS
okay guys GET TERRIBLE
arrival thread aka A BUNCH OF NERDS GET REALLY MAD
Oh boy.
Since she isn't one of the battle-ready members of the group, Angel isn't at the front of the little murder herd. She's near the back with Fiona, looking every bit as exhausted and strung-out as someone who hasn't slept at all should. ]
Are we heading straight in? He must know we're coming, I don't think there's much point in being subtle about this.
[ Plus every second of not knowing Rhys' current state is another second of unbearable anxiety. There's only so much a tiny siren can take. ]
SO MAD OMG
First, get Rhys out alive.
He has his knife to hand - it's a bread knife, which is less than optimal, Beckett has never been an improvised weapons kind of man. But without his claws, it's the best he's going to do. He's not about to take on Stein bare-handed. Not when he fully intends to kill him.]
There's one way in and out, no tracks in the snow - they're inside. I suggest the two of us - [that with a nod to Haurchefant] take point and break in, and the rest of you wait to see what welcome we get. [His next look is to Watson, for either confirmation or input. The doctor is the one with experience in this kind of teamwork; he's ready to defer to that.]
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If he's alive. Of course he's alive. He's smart. He's fine.]
And if he threatens Rhys?
[Stitches already has a hostage, and with a crowd of people coming after him and no exits, it's not out of the question.]
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Then we go at him fast and hard and don't give him time to do any more damage. [He locks eyes with Haurchefant, then Beckett, and nods.] This is a raid. Quick. Quiet. Don't waste your breath yelling. Beckett and Haurchefant will be getting Stitches away. We'll grab Rhys, whatever state he's in and get him out.
If Stitches comes for our group, I'll do what I can to slow him down until Beckett and Haurchefant are on him. If that happens, Ecks, I want you to make sure you, Fiona, Angel, and Rhys get out of that building. I'll be right behind you.
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She knows what she is supposed to do, though. That will have to be enough.]
I will do so. I suggest that if Dis -- if Stitches is not immediately subdued we return to the other house with Rhys and barricade.
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I shall take point. Do not stray far from my side until we know where our two men are. The...ah...Stitches, as you call him... should he attack I will intercept.
[A thought comes to him and he looks over at Watson, making a wide gesture with one hand.]
What of yourself and those who will accompany you to Rhys? If something unexpected should chance to happen, will you be able to defend yourselves?
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[The answer is as simple as that, and it's said with a cool determination, John meeting the much larger man's eye. He breaks after a moment to look at the rest of the group to make sure they're ready. This isn't his ideal team - too many civilians - but it's what they have.]
Let's go.
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Jackrhys and Angel thread? Jackrhys and Angel thread.
It's true what they say. You really can hear your blood pounding in your ears if you get mad enough. Less well-documented is the tingly numbness in her extremities and the all-consuming need to crush something in her hands until it snaps.
Maybe that last thing is genetic.
She follows Rhys - no, Jack - no, Jack sitting pretty in Rhys' freaking corpse - into the free room and closes the door. Privacy. Good. ]
How could you.
[ Her voice is quiet - particularly since she's facing away from him - and she's holding her backpack so tightly her knuckles have turned as white as her tattoos.
She mad. ]
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[ A burst of short, barking laughter at his own ~joke~. He's nursing a headache. A fully bodyache, really. Everything about this is disorienting. It's one thing when you're taking over short term, but this... this'll take a readjustment period.
He's more focused on himself than Angel, body language a perfect representation of a man who is humoring his tantrum-prone daughter. ]
I get that things are a little eeeeugh right now, hon, but you'll get used to this. Promise.
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Except he is. He's joking about killing her best friend and possessing the corpse. Because let's be real, that's what's happened here as far as Angel is concerned.
She'd thought she was too angry for tears, but nope. Here they are. Why does he have to take away everything - everything! - that ever makes her happy? ]
Don't call me hon. Or - or sweetie, or baby, or of your other dumbass pet names. You've forfeited the right - you killed Rhys! You really think I'm ever going to get used to that? That I'll ever be okay with it?
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And. She doesn't. This is his body now. ]
Stop! I'm gonna stop you right there. I did not kill him. Right, buddy?
[ He smiles, looking sidelong for a half-second, as if he expects some kind of answer. ]
Soooo... he might be a little quiet, and passive, and twenty times droolier if he had control of his mouth, but he's around.
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That might be the sickest shit Angel has ever seen in her hecked up miserable life. ]
You're nuts. This is - it - this is the worst thing you've ever done. Either version of you.
[ She pulls her bag close against her chest, lip wobbling in a mixture of revulsion and distress. If Rhys is in some kind of vegetative state in there, that's.
It's worse, isn't it? To be enslaved? Handsome Jack's puppet, with no hope of rescue that isn't death?
She slips a hand inside her bag. ]
I'm not going to let you get away with it.
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Was that meant to be threatening? Angel? Seriously? It's already over.
[ He comes up behind her, closing the gap quickly and wrapping his arms around her from behind. It's loose, far from the bear hugs he used to give when he was bigger and she, smaller. ]
There's nothing you can do. Nothing anyone can do. So... let's put it behind us, yeah? Consider this a fresh start.
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cw: abuse
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shoots this off before bed I DO!! WHAT I WANT!!!!
Another one for Jackrhys!
For a second, she feels like she's going to choke on... On her grief, on disgust, on something she can't name, but she finds her anger and clings to it, using it to ground herself. Jack has been an almost mythical figure since taking over Hyperion. Everything he's done to Pandora was enough to earn her hatred, but it was in a detached, impersonal way. This is so much closer to home, so much worse, and so even though some part of her knows it's a terrible idea, she's striding across the room to step in front of him anyway. Her hands curl into fists at her side, and she digs her fingernails into the skin of her palms, forcing herself to meet his eyes.
Don't think about Rhys. This isn't Rhys.]
You son of a bitch.
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This is what he's in the middle of doing when Fiona blocks his path. Jack gives her a curious look before grinning. ]
Wow. Hostile!
[ Friendly, friendly! Overly friendly, in fact, as he oh-so-playfully shoves the brim of Sexy Hat Lady's sexy hat down over her eyes. ]
Maybe dial it down a notch? I mean, technically speaking, we've only just met.
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[She slaps his hand away, her voice sharp and volume already raising. She didn't think it was possible to be more angry, or be more revolted, but here she is. She wants to punch him in his stupid, smug face, but... But there's still a part of her that can't help thinking that this is Rhys.
What was she even expecting out of this conversation, anyway? He's a murderous psychopath. A murderous lying psychopath, and the thought that he's most likely listened in to almost every conversation she's ever had with Rhys only serves to make her more furious, and a little sad, somehow.
But if Rhys was unconscious for that surgery, and Jack takes control when he's unconscious, then...]
I hope it hurt you a hell of a lot more than it hurt him.
[Small blessings? She won't let herself think of the alternatives.]
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[ The eyebrows knit this time, as if preparing himself to be the bearer of bad news. But it's a task he's willing to undertake. ]
Turns out the good doc needed him awake...ish for, uh... I'd say most, if not all of it. Memory's a little fuzzy, though, what with the...
[ He makes quick motions towards his skull, pantomiming cracking it open with sound effects to boot. ]
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Usually those times end absolutely terribly, and she feels like an idiot later.
And this, having Jack right in front of her, using Rhys' body like some sort of horrible puppet, demonstrating exactly what Stitches did to Rhys... The thought that Rhys was awake, that he might have felt all of it, that he might have known exactly what was happening to him...
Suddenly, all Fiona can think of is doing something, anything, to get him back, even if it won't amount to anything.
So she spits in his face.]
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He laughs. He has to. ]
Tell me.
[ The laughter cuts abruptly as his cybernetic hand curls around her throat and pins her to the outside wall. Not hard enough to rattle, not hard enough to get a gaggle of overdefensive idiots on his ass, but hard enough to raise her up and cut off her air supply. ]
Did you really think that would be a good idea? I-I know, bandit brains are itty bitty, but come the frick on. I expected a little better out of you.
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The hunting of the Stein: MurderParty at the Mould House
[It's been a long day. One of the longest. They'd spent hours pushing their way North following Stein's diminishing trail. After the fiasco of the rescue, the brief fight, the explosion, the discovery of Rhys's - Jack's escape with Angel, the party of would-be rescuers was running high on adrenaline and fury. These could get yo far, and they got Beckett and Fiona up past the school, making use of the relatively mild weather to keep within tracking distance of their prey until the trail grew muddled east of the park. It hadn't been easy tracking - Beckett privately thought he wouldn't have managed it with fewer years of experience. But adrenaline and fury could help there, as well. They'd helped a lot. Only now, with the day growing to a close, does he finally realize how exhausted he is.
They're in a stretch of empty land, nothing but ruins. To the west is a row of houses and then the western convenience store. To the east is a house Beckett knows very well indeed. And Stein does, as well. It's a bit of a guess, but a fair one.
He stops by a half-collapsed wall and leans against it, steadying his breath through a brief coughing spell. No amount of fury can make him well... but it won't matter. He'd promised Stein a dismemberment, and by God, whether God is or not, he will deliver on that promise.
And besides, he's not alone.]
There's a house a little east of here, [he tells Fiona once he's pulled himself upright again.] The worst house in Norfinbury. I mean that. Which makes it a good place to go to ground. Worth searching... especially since we don't have much time. [He doesn't even try to hide the tension in his voice. Not much time, and he's not calm and doesn't expect her to be. She'd been close with Rhys... closer than him, probably. He's hardly about to tell her not to be furious.]
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She's not really sure what her plan is. Maybe get Stitches to fix Rhys, even if in her gut she knows that isn't possible. Maybe just to hurt him. Her anger and grief have turned into a sick weight, settling in the pit of her stomach, and all she can think to do is try something, anything. When Beckett stops, Fiona does as well, waiting for the coughing fit to pass and wondering briefly if he's in any shape for a confrontation. But... Here they are, and there's no way she's going to call this off, not now. Her expression shifts when he tells her he knows where Stitches is, and her posture straightens. It's amazing how just the possibility of finding Stitches is enough to get her adrenaline pumping again. Apparently she has a little energy left after all.]
What's so terrible about it?
[Not that that's going to stop her at this point.]
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It's overgrown with mould. The kind that gives huma- gives you pneumonia, apparently. I'd say let's burn it, but the smoke does worse. [He coughs again into a fist. If he has to endure another round of that, he may just hope for Stitches to revive so he can kill him again. He tugs at his scarf, pulling it loose from his coat collar.] If you have anything to cover your mouth and nose with, I recommend it. Otherwise, we'll just have to be quick.
[They'll have to be quick one way or another. He's already moving again, setting as gruelling a pace as he thinks they can both stand right now. The way she pulls herself up is encouraging. Though she'd said she's not a fighter... at a decisive moment, would anger count?
Even as they walk, he slips the knife out of one sleeve and into his hand again.] Maybe you should take this. If you think you're more likely to hurt him with it than yourself.
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I can use it.
[But, judging from the way their first encounter with Stitches went, she's not sure it's smart to use that strategy again. She knows there's no way she'll be able to overpower him, and she's not sure how Beckett will do, even if she's there to help.]
I'll figure out a way to make him talk to us. You can take him down once he's distracted.
[Fiona isn't sure how she'll do that yet, exactly, but she's used to winging this. Stitches will just be a mark like any other.]
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[Beckett's first response is to sound doubtful. He turns the knife over and hands it to her, handle-first, as they walk. So unarmed it is... he's already going over what little he's seen of Stitches' style. Fast, intense, not concerned with own injuries... a lot like Beckett's own approach, really, except fuelled by insane energy. He'll need all the edges he can get. But...]
Considering our last encounter was rather - explosive, are you sure that's a possibility?
[However brave and driven she clearly is, he doesn't know her skillset. No optimism yet.]
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[It's her thing, Beckett! She's not in the mood to roll out a list of reasons why she knows she can make it work, so she just shoots him a glance, adjusting her hat.]
You hit people, I talk at them. Trust me.
[Maybe she can get him to ramble on about the specifics of the surgery, or suck up to him. She'll figure it out.]
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