Simone Walsh
Amalthea
Amalthea
"Oui, oui. I understand. You don't respect your gods." Amalthea mutters, hardly audible above the steady whirr of machine guns. Bullets fall straight down upon hitting her rather than pinging off like they would against most seemingly-invincible metahumans, being robbed of their momentum.
She doesn't just stand in one place and wait for the Convoy to show up. She accelerates to her top speed in an instant, eliminating wind resistance and adjusting friction just enough to push her speed beyond the bounds of human or goat. She barrels through every obstacle in her way, punching goat-shaped holes through all of them as though they were paper. Less than paper. Amalthea busts through incoming fire from startled security officers, occasionally whipping an arm out to split someone in two.
As she closes in towards the ascending helicopter, she briefly bunches up her furry knees- and leaps with explosive force. The ground craters, and she soars through the air, negating gravity and closing in on the chopper- She dives straight into the rotor blades. The spinning props break before her body does, chunks flying off as the craft spirals, losing altitude. Amalthea leaps off, diving down and landing with much less force than a drop from such a height should have.
"You could have stopped this." She says, to the falling aircraft, and no one in particular.