Gods Among Us 8 - First Earth Battalion [IC|Meta RP|Open]

[Endem]

Andrew Scott

"Yeah, multiple children, there are also elderly there, and some who look like civilians, and finally those that look like soldiers or mercenaries, everybody's armed, but the weapons vary, some have automatic rifles while some only have rusty pipes, they don't respond to insect bites and there is seemingly no reason why they face east" Andrew reported that switched off his power "There isn't anything there besides those people and an excessive amount of cameras" he then sighed "I don't know why, but it smells like a trap, when we go in there can I stay here and support you with my insects, I'm not much of a fighter"

[Anowa]

The Safehouse

Harriet looked confused for a few moments, "Running at your resident psycho? You mean the South African who shot me? Oh... I was standing still when he shot me. Unarmed, I might add. I broke a sprinkler with a golf ball and he drew his weapon, which was when I realised I didn't want to die after all. I hadn't wanted to be taken alive as I don't think I'd do very well under torture, which is what I was expecting here. A whole lot more water-boarding and a whole lot less strange guys from other dimensions with verbal diarrhoea." she shrugged, "Though I imagine that your South African is probably up for a bit of waterboarding before lunch."

Harriet eyed the food; she was hungry, though she hadn't been told she could have it and while she was talking amiably enough she still half-expected Ingrid to turn at any moment and do something to try to break her, "I'm alive," Blur mused, "Because I'm a meta-human. If I wasn't I would have taken one of those bullets to the face."

Ingrid slowly nodded, the mentioning of the man having not shot her by running at Wikus. She muttered under her breath while running her hand through her hair, "A thousand years a still a language barrier." a sigh, "Sorry. I'll make it clear, so long as I'm in this building, anything more than a simple verbal grilling won't happen. I've seen enough people get tortured and left to to rot, and I'm not about to let that happen again."

There was an air in the room, one of mild awkwardness and expectation, it didn't take Ingrid long to figure out the reason, "You're allowed to eat, you know." Ingrid raised a brow, "I'm not a grouchy grandmother who's going to wack you with a spoon if you forget to say grace." Ingrid had chosen the food somewhat based on what the girl would need. She'd have gone for green beans if they had any, but corn and potatoes had to do. Starch content and sheer calories and... well that was about it. Neither were particularly high in minerals or vitamins, despite the reputation that potatoes got. peaches were for whatever the other plants in the meal couldn't do, and the pork was mainly for fat and protein. Ingrid blinked, "Wait, you're not Jewish, are you?"

The Mission

"As soon as he grabs a child, they'll know we're here." Imogen pointed out, "If there was one kid, that would work, but I think Andrew said there were multiple? Andrew, can I confirm you said the children were armed? Because it changes everything if they are potential fighters rather than hostages."

Bill grumbled under his breath at the reference.

In his old professional opinion, they should treat everyone inside as a hostile, sort out the bodies later. In his new professional opinion, killing or wounding more than 2 dozen people on American soil would be a political and social shitstorm of biblical proportions. So he had a fallback plan, one involving his awkward discovery in basic training.

The M320 on the underbarrel of his rifle popped open and Bill reached to the rear of his belt. Producing a single, brass and silver 40mm round. he loaded it into the breach of the launcher and locked it closed. He turned to everyone else, "So, small modification to that plan Jack. It's a crowd, we won't be able to subdue them all before the retinal effects of the flashbangs start to wear off. They really don't work like in the movies. We might get 4 or 5, but after that we'll need to start busting heads. So, I propose you lot pop open every exit on that building, I tear gas the warehouse and those of us either immune or having conveniently brought a gas mask, walk in to start restraining them. Then we go from there."

[Granis]

"Damn, I do not like this... There's gotta be another way."

He looked around at the others, trying to get an idea of their current opinions, before eventually looking up to the windows around the top of the warehouse.

"Maybe I could go through one of the windows when you bust in, grab the kids with my chains and get them out before they get a chance to enter the fight?"

It was clear that, as much as he was trying to convince the others of this plan, he was trying to convince himself more. There had to be some way to do this that didn't hold such a high risk for the children inside. The adult and elderly civilians also had him worried, but children would always be his first priority in a combat situation. They shouldn't have to go through this kind of thing, damn it!

He looked to Imogen, concern clear on his face.

"I'll follow your orders Immy, but please, don't do anything too risky for those kids. I've seen too many get caught in the crossfire in the past, and I can tell you now it's not something you get used to. Ever."

As Jack asked for blunt weapons, Michael sighed, desummoning two of his weighted chains to replace them with a pair of batons, which he promptly handed to the boy.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you to still be careful, right? Doesn't take a genius to realise that just because it's not sharp, doesn't mean it can't do a lot of damage, especially to a kid."

[Lessoni]

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you to still be careful, right? Doesn't take a genius to realise that just because it's not sharp, doesn't mean it can't do a lot of damage, especially to a kid."

Jack Dredd

Jack gave a nod at his words. Sheathing his swords, he took them into his hands, feeling their weight and giving them a flip. They'd do nicely.

"I've got an idea. How about you guys find an alternative way in, try and stack up at the entrances to the room, and we'll all breach at the same time? I'm sure they won't be expecting me to come out of a wall, and I can knock out a couple of those kids and dump 'em out here," he said, his face scrunched in thought. He wasn't exactly a military man, but he had a little pride in his plan.

[Dyelli Beybi]

The Safehouse

Harriet looked confused for a few moments, "Running at your resident psycho? You mean the South African who shot me? Oh... I was standing still when he shot me. Unarmed, I might add. I broke a sprinkler with a golf ball and he drew his weapon, which was when I realised I didn't want to die after all. I hadn't wanted to be taken alive as I don't think I'd do very well under torture, which is what I was expecting here. A whole lot more water-boarding and a whole lot less strange guys from other dimensions with verbal diarrhoea." she shrugged, "Though I imagine that your South African is probably up for a bit of waterboarding before lunch."

Harriet eyed the food; she was hungry, though she hadn't been told she could have it and while she was talking amiably enough she still half-expected Ingrid to turn at any moment and do something to try to break her, "I'm alive," Blur mused, "Because I'm a meta-human. If I wasn't I would have taken one of those bullets to the face."

Ingrid slowly nodded, the mentioning of the man having not shot her by running at Wikus. She muttered under her breath while running her hand through her hair, "A thousand years a still a language barrier." a sigh, "Sorry. I'll make it clear, so long as I'm in this building, anything more than a simple verbal grilling won't happen. I've seen enough people get tortured and left to to rot, and I'm not about to let that happen again."

There was an air in the room, one of mild awkwardness and expectation, it didn't take Ingrid long to figure out the reason, "You're allowed to eat, you know." Ingrid raised a brow, "I'm not a grouchy grandmother who's going to wack you with a spoon if you forget to say grace." Ingrid had chosen the food somewhat based on what the girl would need. She'd have gone for green beans if they had any, but corn and potatoes had to do. Starch content and sheer calories and... well that was about it. Neither were particularly high in minerals or vitamins, despite the reputation that potatoes got. peaches were for whatever the other plants in the meal couldn't do, and the pork was mainly for fat and protein. Ingrid blinked, "Wait, you're not Jewish, are you?"

"No," the question of religion actually brought a smile to Harriet's face, "I'm not Jewish," though she didn't elaborate on exactly what she was.

"Thank you," she said, motioning to the food, before reaching across to draw the tray to her, "I guess I'm a little suspicious. The last member of the FEB I hoped I could talk to was mostly interested in proving what a scumbag I am rather asking me anything about what's going on with the Master. I managed to give the location of the base, but nobody really pushed me for details on anything. I'm a little bit worried about your team, to be fair. The Master tends to be a step or two ahead of the game. For all I know he anticipated I would try to defect after the bombing," she mused, "I mean, I didn't exactly hide what I was about; I wanted to build a more just and equitable society and I wanted to challenge the structures of authority, hierarchy, and domination and dismantle them if they serve no legitimate purpose. Killing a whole lot of innocent people with a bomb doesn't do much to advance those goals."

The high calorie diet was exactly what the speedster needed and she ate with much more enthusiasm than her lithe frame would have suggested she was capable of. She was a meta-human though and one with, by all reckoning, a very fast metabolism.

---

The Mission

Imogen sighed, running her hands through her hair, "Okay. We aren't going to get the element of perfect surprise and we don't know what is going on in there so bursting in guns blazing may not be the ideal tactic. Michael and Jack, stay hidden with Andrew. Use him as your eyes and ears. When the fighting starts, try to remove the children and any non-combatants from the fight."

"What about me?" JJ asked.

"The rest of you, including you Triggs, will follow me but keep out of sight. I'm going to play the role of hostage negotiator. If things get violent, I want you to back me up. Use non-lethal force as much as possible. We're meta-humans. We should be capable of it. I want the three of you," she motioned at the group she had singled out earlier, "To lie in wait for a few minutes. They're probably be expecting an attack from multiple angles, so if it comes to fighting stay out for a bit and let them decide the only ones they are facing are the ones at the front of the building before you make your move. Does that sound logical to everyone?" Imogen asked, looking between the Batallion members surrounding her, "This way we figure out if the people are hostile before we attack them and, if we are, we have the basis of a plan to extract the children and civilians."

[Anowa]

"No," the question of religion actually brought a smile to Harriet's face, "I'm not Jewish," though she didn't elaborate on exactly what she was.

"Thank you," she said, motioning to the food, before reaching across to draw the tray to her, "I guess I'm a little suspicious. The last member of the FEB I hoped I could talk to was mostly interested in proving what a scumbag I am rather asking me anything about what's going on with the Master. I managed to give the location of the base, but nobody really pushed me for details on anything. I'm a little bit worried about your team, to be fair. The Master tends to be a step or two ahead of the game. For all I know he anticipated I would try to defect after the bombing," she mused, "I mean, I didn't exactly hide what I was about; I wanted to build a more just and equitable society and I wanted to challenge the structures of authority, hierarchy, and domination and dismantle them if they serve no legitimate purpose. Killing a whole lot of innocent people with a bomb doesn't do much to advance those goals."

The high calorie diet was exactly what the speedster needed and she ate with much more enthusiasm than her lithe frame would have suggested she was capable of. She was a meta-human though and one with, by all reckoning, a very fast metabolism.

Ingrid nodded, "I can sympathize. Wanting to make the world a better place, but not exactly going about the best means to do so." Ingrid leaned back in her chair, "People in the FEB need to learn that the world isn't always so black and white. They treat you like a terrorist, I wouldn't call you that. I would call you a child who stumbled. You have made an error of judgement, followed someone who perhaps didn't have the same wishes and goals as you. I remember a similar fate befell many communists in the 20s and 30s. Initially simply wanting to be equal in the eyes of all... but left rotting in a prison in Siberia." Ingrid's eyes developed an odd haze, as if a distant memory had been brought back out of it's depths, "I too, made a mistake like that. I do not wish for you to rot in a prison cell, Harriet. If I can convince the others to give you an alternate sentence or probation of some kind I will."

---

"The rest of you, including you Triggs, will follow me but keep out of sight. I'm going to play the role of hostage negotiator. If things get violent, I want you to back me up. Use non-lethal force as much as possible. We're meta-humans. We should be capable of it. I want the three of you," she motioned at the group she had singled out earlier, "To lie in wait for a few minutes. They're probably be expecting an attack from multiple angles, so if it comes to fighting stay out for a bit and let them decide the only ones they are facing are the ones at the front of the building before you make your move. Does that sound logical to everyone?" Imogen asked, looking between the Batallion members surrounding her, "This way we figure out if the people are hostile before we attack them and, if we are, we have the basis of a plan to extract the children and civilians."

There were a lot of times in Bill's life where officers made a bad call, gotten people killed, sometimes supposed OPFOR who were superfluous targets, sometimes their own men for giving an order that had bad info surrounding it. To Bill, this was one of those times. Imogen's plan may not get someone on their side killed, but it would most definitely result in casualties. "Imogen, I can tell by your plan that you've never been bumrushed by 13 skinnies high on meth. Only non-lethal I have is tear gas and foam 40mms. The foams may not do a fucking thing, and neither may my fists. If it comes to me not having the capacity to incapacitate nearly roughly 100 people, there will be bodies." Bill stood, now evidently opposed to the plan.

"We don't know what they're physical condition is other than non-responsive, and apparently without a capacity to feel pain if the lack of recognition of a cockroach bite. Those are clear signs that punching them in the face or breaking an arm with a baton has a very likely chance of not slowing them down. By that point they'll have a machete jammed into your chest cavity or a crowbar sticking out of your skull." he shook his head, "You wanted me here because I have experience with this sort of thing, this is me giving out my advice. If you go with this plan, multiple people will die."

[Communist Xomaniax]

The the parking lot had long faded to grey, weeds stabbed up through a hundred cracks in the asphalt. At least "parking lot" was the best guess for whatever it was, the building it was for long since demolished and replaced with an enormous wound of crab grass. Its sole occupant, save for a few long rusted out shipping containers, was a single straight truck. It looked no better, the outside flaked with rust and dings, the logo for Ice King Refrigeration long faded to near obscurity. It sat there, the cab dark and the engine long cold. It could have been there for a few days to a few years.

Inside though, the sterile glare of fluorescent lights cast down upon a skinless giant. An orchestra played softly from a speaker and mixed with the soft hum of the truck's generator. Enormous hands glistened red as they worked. One-two-three, one-two-three the giant thought. Milky eyes watched the needing go in and out, in and out. With each deft movement another stitch was added to the mask. He'd already given it a touch of makeup, just enough to give it a healthy pallor. He'd done a good job with the body, that was the easy part. A body wore clothes, a zigzag of stitching couldn't be seen but the face had to be done with much greater detail.

The giant chuckled to himself. His suit had done the trick just fine in getting him into the Battalion. To them, he was Willard Keynes: strongman. Oh, he'd played up the role during the process. The persona of the swaggering mormon strongman shearing sheets of steel and leaping over whole stories had been enough to win them over. He'd signed up as the hero Samson and as far as the organization knew, he was some herculean meathead from Salt Lake City. A fresh hire on his first mission for the organization to help defeat the Master, though the who and what of it had been mostly kept from him.

Hands pulled the mask open and stretched it over his exposed flesh, sealing it on tight and taking a moment to let it fully connect. He was not Willard Keynes, nor was he Samson. He was Jean-Baptiste Strauss, who fancied himself the Surgeon. Sliding into the body suit, the name felt appropriate. Six men had given him their lives to make this suit though, much to their protests, did not do so willingly. The tracking, abduction, and creation process had been long and hard, but Strauss knew it as a labor of love. He'd worked the leather dutifully and poured his soul into every stitch, oiled every patch with fine mink oil to give it that easy stretch. This was necessary, it would soon be going through a lot of stress.

The naked giant soon began to clothe himself, fixing the leather straps around his neck to keep his face on and, just as importantly, hide the seam. He affixed his colossal boots next and donned his enormous leather trench coat. A black hat was placed on his head. The contacts he placed in his eyes gave them an icy blue. He filled his speed loaders with bullets and put them in his coat pouch, just below the enormous revolver he kept in a holster. On the other side he loaded his net gun and its special rounds, as well as his tool kit. He patted that affectionately. A final look into the mirror confirmed that he was ready to go, and not a moment too soon.

"Willard" stepped out of the back of the truck and removed a crinkled paper from his pocket. It was a simple map with a single spot circled. The Master's lair. Only a few blocks from there. The walk was a pain but he'd rather his new team mates not see his truck in case he was able to secure a metahuman's body. Whatever this fight was about, he didn't care. It was beneath men like him to care about such things. He only wanted a body. He needed it. There were so many walls he'd hit in his research that could be vaulted over if he had one. If wading into this war was how he'd get one then so be it.

A few blocks became two, then one. The warehouse came into view. Across from it were, Strauss presumed, his team mates. He waved in their direction and approached them with a lumbering gait, all the better to obfuscate his identity. He closed the distance quickly, never breaking his stride. Soon enough he loomed over the assembled group and offered them a warm, sunny smile.

"Greetings friends," he began in a perfectly neutral accent, "sorry I'm late, you know how traffic is." He summoned up a hearty chuckle and slapped his belly.

"My name's Willard Keynes, but you can call me Samson if you'd prefer. I'm here to help," he gestured his thumb at the warehouse, "with all this. What's the plan?"

[Lessoni]

Jack Dredd

Jack gave a double take at the appearance of the giant of a man, who seemingly came out of nowhere at all. The way he walked, the sheer size, the sudden appearance... it all combined to put him on edge.

"Uh, I have a lot of questions. Primarily, why wasn't this guy with us at first, and also is this guy gonna start ripping our heads off?", he said, moving himself behind the rest of the team. He was no coward, but better safe than sorry.

[Dyelli Beybi]

Jack Dredd

Jack gave a double take at the appearance of the giant of a man, who seemingly came out of nowhere at all. The way he walked, the sheer size, the sudden appearance... it all combined to put him on edge.

"Uh, I have a lot of questions. Primarily, why wasn't this guy with us at first, and also is this guy gonna start ripping our heads off?", he said, moving himself behind the rest of the team. He was no coward, but better safe than sorry.

"Hold," Imogen held up a hand to Jack, "Nothing to worry about. The big guy was expected. Raynott let me know we might be seeing him."

"Hello Willard," the dimunitive Brit turned to the newcomer, shifting in the dirt so she could look up at him properly, "Imogen Vaughan," she introduced herself, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm going to take an educated guess and say your skill-set involves breaking things?"

"We don't know what they're physical condition is other than non-responsive, and apparently without a capacity to feel pain if the lack of recognition of a cockroach bite. Those are clear signs that punching them in the face or breaking an arm with a baton has a very likely chance of not slowing them down. By that point they'll have a machete jammed into your chest cavity or a crowbar sticking out of your skull." he shook his head, "You wanted me here because I have experience with this sort of thing, this is me giving out my advice. If you go with this plan, multiple people will die."

Having made her introduction she turned back to Bill, "Okay. It's just what I came up with on the spur of the moment. I trust you, Bill, and I'm happy for you to take the lead on this one. What do you want us to do?"

JJ looked between Bill and Imogen, then shrugged noncommittally. Apparently she was happy to go along with whatever Bill came up with as well... but then again, JJ Triggs was practically indestructible. She didn't have the most destructive set of powers but she was next-to impossible to kill.


Meanwhile, back at HQ...

Ingrid nodded, "I can sympathize. Wanting to make the world a better place, but not exactly going about the best means to do so." Ingrid leaned back in her chair, "People in the FEB need to learn that the world isn't always so black and white. They treat you like a terrorist, I wouldn't call you that. I would call you a child who stumbled. You have made an error of judgement, followed someone who perhaps didn't have the same wishes and goals as you. I remember a similar fate befell many communists in the 20s and 30s. Initially simply wanting to be equal in the eyes of all... but left rotting in a prison in Siberia." Ingrid's eyes developed an odd haze, as if a distant memory had been brought back out of it's depths, "I too, made a mistake like that. I do not wish for you to rot in a prison cell, Harriet. If I can convince the others to give you an alternate sentence or probation of some kind I will."

Harriet seemed to be opening up quite readily to Ingrid now. Apparently treating her like a person had it's advantages, "Until what happened in New York, I'd never done anything worse than giving the odd security guard a few bruises. I thought I was the new Robin Hood, stealing from the rich and redistributing the profits from the fenced gear. I'm not telling you which charities, before you ask; they need the money more than the people I robbed do. 'Harriet Newton' was a perfect cover. I could scope-out expensive places and everyone thought I was a drunk, drugged-up waste of space. Anyone serious, like police officers and similar, tended to view me with contempt. I was never looked at as a credible possibility for Blur."

She went silent for a few moments as she wolfed down her food, eventually setting the plate aside, "You know," she said pensively, "And I'm not saying this because I want to get away, but I don't think your arrest of me was a good one, was it? And nobody has read me any Miranda rights or given me access to an attorney. I know that I'm not a traditional criminal, but I also don't think there's much chance of me going into a real prison. Either I end up down some FEB black-hole somewhere or you let me go. I do want to do something to make it up, in some small way, to the people who died because of the attack in New York. I think I could do that better if I wasn't in prison."

"Oh," she smiled slightly, "And just in case you were worried, I wasn't thinking of doing it the 'Blur' way. No more robberies."

[Anowa]

Having made her introduction she turned back to Bill, "Okay. It's just what I came up with on the spur of the moment. I trust you, Bill, and I'm happy for you to take the lead on this one. What do you want us to do?"

JJ looked between Bill and Imogen, then shrugged noncommittally. Apparently she was happy to go along with whatever Bill came up with as well... but then again, JJ Triggs was practically indestructible. She didn't have the most destructive set of powers but she was next-to impossible to kill.

Bill looked at those assembled, mildly surprised he didn't hear the most recent addition arrive. After surveying them for a few moments, his gaze turned to the warehouse, gears in his head turning. Taking stock of what he knew of those present and how they were geared, a plan started to form in his head. In a moment, the somewhat friendly and relaxed face of William York shifted to that of a man who had spent most of his life in warzones, "Insect, see how many bugs you can get from the surroundings, as many as your comfortable with. Weyland, any pump action shotgun you can think of, load it with beanbag rounds if possible."

He continued, now looking at those assembled. "Stage 1. Samson, Insect, and I will move to the side of the warehouse opposite the main door. Samson, since you look it, you'll be creating maybe a basketball sized hole in the wall maybe two if possible. Insect you'll be moving all those insects you gathered through said holes. All of them. Hopefully a mass of insects will trigger some part of the hostage's primoridal brain and snaps them out of the funk. If that doesn't work, I'll start popping tear gas through the holes."

"Stage 2. Weyland, Kaleidoscope, Cuddlefish, Jumper, you'll be waiting at the entrance. If the hostages come walking out under their own power, simply get them out of harms way and wait for Insect to clear out his bugs. If the insect plan didn't work, and they come out coughing, restrain them. Cuddlefish, call the local PD and inform them of the situation. Samson, Insect and I will move to you to help. We don't have enough restraints for all these people, and we still don't know for sure what their reaction will be."

"Stage 3. If, and only if, they show no effects from the insects or the tear gas. Attempt to disable them with non lethal injuries. Broken limbs, pressure points, so on so forth. If peacefully restraining them, or maintaining a stance of non lethal approach can no longer be used, I will take full responsibility for any fatalities that occur if you need to truthfully defend yourselves from death. If we need to start causing actual bloodshed, Cuddlefish, inform EMTs of the situation and tell them there's a mass casualty incident." Bill pulled his Glock from his hip and offered it to Imogen, "Take it, don't argue."

A pause, "Any questions, concerns?"

Harriet seemed to be opening up quite readily to Ingrid now. Apparently treating her like a person had it's advantages, "Until what happened in New York, I'd never done anything worse than giving the odd security guard a few bruises. I thought I was the new Robin Hood, stealing from the rich and redistributing the profits from the fenced gear. I'm not telling you which charities, before you ask; they need the money more than the people I robbed do. 'Harriet Newton' was a perfect cover. I could scope-out expensive places and everyone thought I was a drunk, drugged-up waste of space. Anyone serious, like police officers and similar, tended to view me with contempt. I was never looked at as a credible possibility for Blur."

She went silent for a few moments as she wolfed down her food, eventually setting the plate aside, "You know," she said pensively, "And I'm not saying this because I want to get away, but I don't think your arrest of me was a good one, was it? And nobody has read me any Miranda rights or given me access to an attorney. I know that I'm not a traditional criminal, but I also don't think there's much chance of me going into a real prison. Either I end up down some FEB black-hole somewhere or you let me go. I do want to do something to make it up, in some small way, to the people who died because of the attack in New York. I think I could do that better if I wasn't in prison."

"Oh," she smiled slightly, "And just in case you were worried, I wasn't thinking of doing it the 'Blur' way. No more robberies."

Ingrid gave a slight frown, a look in her eyes giving a sign of remorse, and sadness, "You and I both know that I can't let you walk out of here. No matter how much we see it as the better option. It's easy to see the world in such divisions as black and white, or good and bad your arrest in my eyes was grey. I understand your intent, what you wanted to do and the goals you were looking to accomplish, I'm sure your followers did as well and I'm sure people can very easily sympathize. They are noble goals. But the powers that be don't recognize that intent, instead they see only the actions and associations."

A sigh, "I'm sorry, but my words are just that. Words. I can provide advice, calm people's anxiety and give some form of closure, but that is all. I'm not a member of the United States Government, nor am I a judge, nor the leader of the FEB. My opinion can only give ideas to those who are well and truly in charge of this situation. It is outside of my control." Ingrid picked up the plate and stood, "I will talk to Raynott and see if I can at least plant the seed in his mind... But I can't promise you anything."

[A Paradise for Few]

Ellehau "Elle" Oan Maker/ Omboovmatu
Elle was currently leaning back against a tree, listening to the conversation around him. Bill's plan, from Elle's perspective was the most reasonable, or entertaining, though he had no objection to a bloodbath, but it was also out of the question, as per the preferable publicity of himself, and FEB at the moment, too. Imogen's was sound, but needlessly complicated, with unlikely differences in results.
"Well, in my opinion Bill's plan is good and sound," he said, "it's common-sensical enough that we are to uphold our advantageous, and," he added off-handedly," perhaps an essential reputation, and we can always switch to more convenient methods if the situation becomes too bothersome.", he said. "Just like Andrew had said, I wouldn't be surprised if we were in for a surprise. It's doubtful what this faculty is Master's idea of a base of operations. We'll know soon, I suppose." Most likely the Puppets person knew of the FEB's arrival. "Bill's plan appears to be the best possible choice, and your was close as well, Imogen." he said, looking over the group, and Imogen at last. Of course, it'd easier, if perhaps more monotonous, to do a massacre/let a few live to question, but perhaps not as easy in terms of the future, and besides, in this hack-and-slash case, some constrains could prove to be fun, though a possible trap for something else was also likely. Noticing a new figure appearing, he shifted, and turned his head to look to the new arrival. 'This man is a relative giant with pale, almost blue skin. What would appear to be a real-life Frankenstein, heh.' He chuckled inwardly. This momentarily brought to his attention an observation of the plethora of personalities at FEB. A giant robot, among other things, and now this man. "Hello, Williard", he addresed the man, and then proceeded to introduce himself to the giant. "My name is Ellehau, or Elle, or Omboovmatu as per the hero occupation. Welcome to the group. I hope, no, I think we'll get along just fine", he smiled. Returning his thoughts to the situation at hand, he said, "I am quite curious how this whole situation with seemingly mind controlled people will turn out", he decided to remark, and he happened to feel quite, well, curious.

[Lessoni]

Jack Dredd

Jack listened to Bill's plan, and half listened to Elle's bit of conversation. What he was really thinking was how he could be the most helpful, while also walking out with the fewest wounds. Probably not the heroes mindset, but it worked for him.

"Well, nothing's getting done with us standing out here. Let's get going, I say we take Bill's plan. And every second we waste is another second where someone might spot us. So, we ready?", said Jack, shifting from foot to foot. He was starting to get a little restless, sitting here. He felt exposed.

[Anowa]

---

Anthony Cross
Being a mildly hazardous driver
Maine

Things weren't going great in the grand old US of A, one didn't need to have a degree to see that, but Anthony did. His reputation, social and economic standing, and general foresight made sure that unlike most of his fellows in corporate America, he could actually do something about it. Or at least he could, if he ever bothered to make connections with members of the government. Sadly, Anthony's lack of heartlessness and 'fuck the people' attitude meant that shoveling cash into G-Men's pockets was difficult to stand. There would be no strong arm lobbying for him, at least not for the near future.

Given who he was, and what he worked with, picking up on the fact that the FEB was likely hiding out after their HQ got bombed was a no brainer. Figuring out where they were took a bit of digging, mostly private aircraft tracking through a reasonably illegal ATC scanner, like the one's people used to track squad cars. Instead it just used the radio frequencies of Air Traffic Controllers. It was incredibly illegal, but then again nothing was really illegal so long as the police didn't know.

Which lead him to Maine, with Theo's help, they narrowed it down to a single manor in the countryside of the rather wet state. It was helpful that Epoch had property in the state to test and develop some of the more potentially hazardous things that they were researching. Mainly around the whole Quantum Entanglement based power supply. But also anything that required radioactive materials or anything that emitted electromagnetic disturbances. It wasn't exactly a public site, people knew it existed and that it made stuff there, but not to the degree that people would panic.

But right now, Anthony was almost wholly consumed by a report that had been sent to his phone detailing the trial runs of the Tokamak Cells on exoskeletons. It was... disappointing, to say the least. Well, progress was made, but not the kind of progress he wanted. It was like fueling a pen light with a car battery, most of the circuits burnt out or caught fire.

Theo spoke up, "Mister Cross." The voice was soft, somewhat nasally, as close to a representation of Theodore Roosevelt as one could get with the limited recordings and testomonies of the man's voice.

Anthony didn't look up from his phone as the vehicle rounded the curve, "Yes Theo?"

"We are approaching the manor. I would suggest leaving the report for a later date."

Anthony sighed, "I already read it, I'm just trying to think of a solution. But yeah."

With that, he tucked his phone back into his coat's pocket, now looking out the windshield of his Bentley. Time, temperature, compass, and a myriad of other environmental factors were displayed on an OLED layer sandwiched between layers of bulletproof glass. Even if the autopilot of the car failed, him going off the road would more than likely do more damage to everything else than the car. Taking control of the vehicle by taking the wheel, Anthony cruised along into view of the manor.

Upon initial viewing, there was no security beyond a fence, but Anthony, knowing how groups like this operated, knew it was likely that whoever was home already knew he was coming. From any number of cameras in the wilderness leading up to the manor, the driveway was as expected, gravel, leading up to a garage. The mild rumble of the W12 engine echoed across the well maintained garden as Anthony stepped out of the vehicle. As he approached the front door, the vehicle's engine keyed off and it's doors locked. Leaving it nothing more than a luxury tank sitting off to the side in the driveway.

Up the steps the tall man strode, before smacking the knocker into the door thrice.

[Communist Xomaniax]

Jean-Baptiste Strauss

"Hello Willard."

That elicited the giant's attention. He listened and smiled warmly as Imogen made her introductions, and chuckled when she asked him what his skills were. If only you knew. He thought to himself.

"You guess correctly, Ms. Vaughan. I can pull steel apart like butter, but that's not all." He pulled open his coat to reveal his twin holsters, one holding his net gun and the other a colossal revolver.

"I've got a launcher here that can shoot a metal net. Whatever gets caught in it ain't getting free 'neither. Can't catch a whole crowd with it, but could catch us two or three if they're clustered together." A massive finger pointed back to his piece. "And this'll put down anything."

When Bill spoke, Strauss listened. This one seemed like he knew what he was talking about, or at least like he had some experience. He nodded as the man laid out his plan and agreed when he'd been assigned his role. The other one, his eyes darted to Imogen and back, had seemed like the leader at first. A curious dynamic the doctor made a note of. Perhaps it would be useful in the future. He drank in the sight of the others and gave them friendly glances. It would pay off to get on their good side as soon as possible.

"Hi there, Ellehau. I'm sure we'll become fast friends." He said. He'd read this one's file, he'd need to keep an eye on him.

[Dyelli Beybi]

The Warehouse

Bill looked at those assembled, mildly surprised he didn't hear the most recent addition arrive. After surveying them for a few moments, his gaze turned to the warehouse, gears in his head turning. Taking stock of what he knew of those present and how they were geared, a plan started to form in his head. In a moment, the somewhat friendly and relaxed face of William York shifted to that of a man who had spent most of his life in warzones, "Insect, see how many bugs you can get from the surroundings, as many as your comfortable with. Weyland, any pump action shotgun you can think of, load it with beanbag rounds if possible."

He continued, now looking at those assembled. "Stage 1. Samson, Insect, and I will move to the side of the warehouse opposite the main door. Samson, since you look it, you'll be creating maybe a basketball sized hole in the wall maybe two if possible. Insect you'll be moving all those insects you gathered through said holes. All of them. Hopefully a mass of insects will trigger some part of the hostage's primoridal brain and snaps them out of the funk. If that doesn't work, I'll start popping tear gas through the holes."

"Stage 2. Weyland, Kaleidoscope, Cuddlefish, Jumper, you'll be waiting at the entrance. If the hostages come walking out under their own power, simply get them out of harms way and wait for Insect to clear out his bugs. If the insect plan didn't work, and they come out coughing, restrain them. Cuddlefish, call the local PD and inform them of the situation. Samson, Insect and I will move to you to help. We don't have enough restraints for all these people, and we still don't know for sure what their reaction will be."

"Stage 3. If, and only if, they show no effects from the insects or the tear gas. Attempt to disable them with non lethal injuries. Broken limbs, pressure points, so on so forth. If peacefully restraining them, or maintaining a stance of non lethal approach can no longer be used, I will take full responsibility for any fatalities that occur if you need to truthfully defend yourselves from death. If we need to start causing actual bloodshed, Cuddlefish, inform EMTs of the situation and tell them there's a mass casualty incident." Bill pulled his Glock from his hip and offered it to Imogen, "Take it, don't argue."

A pause, "Any questions, concerns?"

Imogen (Kaleidoscope) shook her head, though JJ (Cuttlefish) raised a hand, a cheeky grin forming on her face, "One quick question: when you called me 'Cuddlefish' was that a Freudian slip? If so, that's cool, but maybe we should wait until after the mission. I like to be the little spoon and I have a few rules. First, my safe word is 'guava', second -"

"JJ!" Imogen hisses irritably, "I hate to quote you right back at yourself, but maybe you should save the comedy routine until after the mission."

JJ pouted, then stuck her tongue out at the other woman, "Fine, but you guys are no fun."

"I think we're all clear on the plan," Imogen confirmed, with an eye-roll, "Like I said before, I'm happy to take your lead on this one, so whenever you're ready, I'm ready to go in."

---

Back at Base

Ingrid gave a slight frown, a look in her eyes giving a sign of remorse, and sadness, "You and I both know that I can't let you walk out of here. No matter how much we see it as the better option. It's easy to see the world in such divisions as black and white, or good and bad your arrest in my eyes was grey. I understand your intent, what you wanted to do and the goals you were looking to accomplish, I'm sure your followers did as well and I'm sure people can very easily sympathize. They are noble goals. But the powers that be don't recognize that intent, instead they see only the actions and associations."

A sigh, "I'm sorry, but my words are just that. Words. I can provide advice, calm people's anxiety and give some form of closure, but that is all. I'm not a member of the United States Government, nor am I a judge, nor the leader of the FEB. My opinion can only give ideas to those who are well and truly in charge of this situation. It is outside of my control." Ingrid picked up the plate and stood, "I will talk to Raynott and see if I can at least plant the seed in his mind... But I can't promise you anything."

"I know," Harriet gave a slight sigh, leaning back on the bed, "I'm just telling you how I imagine this will go. I am a pretty high profile person to grab so obviously. You can also tell Raynott I'd be willing to run with some story about how it was all a big misunderstanding or lay a smokescreen and blame someone else."

Despite being locked down here on her own, Harriet had managed to figure out that her capture had been a bit of a PR disaster for the FEB, but then again, she had had plenty of time to think."

She cocked her head to one side as she heard the door knocker pounding above them, "Sounds like you have a visitor," she commented.

[Anowa]

Imogen (Kaleidoscope) shook her head, though JJ (Cuttlefish) raised a hand, a cheeky grin forming on her face, "One quick question: when you called me 'Cuddlefish' was that a Freudian slip? If so, that's cool, but maybe we should wait until after the mission. I like to be the little spoon and I have a few rules. First, my safe word is 'guava', second -"

"JJ!" Imogen hisses irritably, "I hate to quote you right back at yourself, but maybe you should save the comedy routine until after the mission."

JJ pouted, then stuck her tongue out at the other woman, "Fine, but you guys are no fun."

"I think we're all clear on the plan," Imogen confirmed, with an eye-roll, "Like I said before, I'm happy to take your lead on this one, so whenever you're ready, I'm ready to go in."

Bill paused for a moment, wondering how JJ managed to differentiate, given both words were pronounced the same. Relenting, he shook his head, "No, just that someone failed English class apparently."

With that, Bill started towards the rear of the building. "Let's get this done then folks."

Bill elected to ignore the CCTVs, it was unlikely that any response would arrive before they were done here. And if the folks inside got alerted from such a revelation their plan would still work to a degree.

Prepping the underbarrel grenade launcher, Bill simply waited for the big guy and insect manipulator to catch up. They knew the plan, now Bill just had to wait for everything to come together.

[Lessoni]

Jack Dredd

Jack gave a nod at Bill's words, mostly paying attention. As he walked away, Jack snapped back into reality and hurriedly moved towards the entrance, his back against the wall next to the door. He raised the metal baton, flipping it from one hand to another to test its weight.

"Let's get it done ladies and gents," said Jack with a wry smile.

[A Paradise for Few]

Elle
Elle perceived a feeling what he had forgotten something for a moment. Ah, yes. Bill hadn't said anything about his part in the plan, so he supposed it would be for the best if he asks now. Seeing Bill start walking towards the warehouse, Elle called out to him."Hey, Bill, I just noticed what you haven't given me much to do in terms of your plan." He supposed a show of embarrassment was in order, so he made his body smile slightly and scratch it's neck in a sheepish manner "Sorry, must have slipped my mind while I was listening." He looked Bill in the eyes. "So, what is it do you want me to do?"

[Endem]

Andrew Scott

Andrew sighed after hearing the plan and everyone agreeing to it, he didn't like it, but what did he have to say about it. After Bill made his way to the side of the warehouse Andrew got up and started to walk there in a faster pace than usual. About in the middle of the way there his eyes became clouded, then milk-white and a small column of insects and other bugs formed behind him, with every step the column widened, eventually when he arrived on Bill's position every insect he connected to was there, the insects surrounded them on all sides, now it was just the time to wait on the big guy.

[Communist Xomaniax]

Strauss nodded as the assembled team began to go to their positions. Soon enough he found himself at his position at the back of the warehouse. He turned and offered a wink and a smile to Andrew. Slowly he placed both his palms on the walls, arching his fingers so only his fingertips touched. With the slightest rotation of his palms he began warping deep circles into the corrugated metal. Satisfied at the rings, he reached into the new grooves, poking holes into the metal like it was soft butter. He crumpled bits of the wall in his hands and pulled slowly outwards, being gentle as to lessen the dull whine of shearing steel. When he was done there were two perfectly circular holes in the wall, each one about a foot in diameter. He let the bits drop down from his palms as he turned to face the bug man.

"It's your turn now, buddy." He said.

[Endem]

Andrew Scott

Andrew did not look at Strauss but smiled and said "thank you" nonetheless, maybe he didn't do it because he couldn't quite see him from the position of the insect he took as his eyes, he kept switching between them before he found one in a good position. After getting his vision Andrew then pointed his finger at the circles and about a thousand or more insects moved into the warehouse, though, there was still a lot of them on standby, but the horde has definitely thinned "I think this many will be enough"

[Dyelli Beybi]

The insects had no discernible effect on the people in the shed. Nobody moved a muscle, they just stood there, eyes fixed forwards. Not one of them even turned to look.

"Is it working?" JJ asked Andrew, "I have a really good feeling about this plan. When we let Immy come up with plans they all basically boil down to 'Immy puts herself in danger while everyone else provides backup'. And her plans are boring. They lack any flair or sense of fun."

"Your last plan was to have the men on the mission take turns trying to seduce Harriet Newton," Imogen pointed out in an irritated whisper, "And before you say 'it worked, didn't it?', the only reason that plan worked was because Wikus is so indiscreet that Newton immediately picked him out as one of the FEB and she thought he'd help her commit suicide-by-cape."

JJ shrugged, "Explain it away as much as you like. The plan still worked, ergo it was a good plan. And I got to watch our guys trying to play Casanova."

[Endem]

Andrew Scott

"It isn't, at all" Andrew replied "And why the hell did you not tell me I was supposed to seduce Newton, it would fun", he then pointed a finger towards the ground and the insects came out of the warehouse "Bill, pump it full of tear gas" he said to Bill as he tried to not step on the insect he choose as his eyes "Can I let them go?" He asked, obviously he was referring to insects as 'them'

[Anowa]

Elle"So, what is it do you want me to do?"

Andrew Scott"Bill, pump it full of tear gas" he said to Bill as he tried to not step on the insect he choose as his eyes "Can I let them go?" He asked, obviously he was referring to insects as 'them'

Bill frowned, "Yeah, drop the bugs." Within the next few seconds, Bill fired a trio of tear gas canisters at the edge of the concrete holes, leaving them to bounce harmlessly into the warehouse. "Come on, let's regroup with the others, you too Elle."

With the first stage of the plan a bust, Bill was starting to have a hinting feeling that things may turn out much worse than expected. No reaction to the bugs meant they weren't even remotely conscious. If they showed no reaction to the CS Gas, then they'd go for non-lethal injuries. At which point Bill would seriously be praying that they stopped there. "Cuttlefish, get your phone out and have the cops on dial. I don't want any hesitatrion to result in someone getting brained by a lead pipe.

The man took a position with a view of the main door, waiting for anyone to walk out, coughing or screaming.

---

"Sounds like you have a visitor," she commented.

Ingrid nodded, "Sure does." grabbing the collected assortment of things she brought down she gave a nod to Newton, "Until next time." the sound of the door's lock engaging echoed through the otherwise quiet section of the building.

Depositing her belongings back where they belonged, she moved to the front door. Noticing the state of the weather outside, and seeing a tall silhouette standing behind through the frosted windows, Ingrid suddenly felt, vulnerable. It wasn't a common feeling, but seeing as she didn't know anyone in this little cabal that was that tall, and people weren't really supposed to know about this location, it didn't point to anything positive.

Her Browning materialized in her hand as she approached the door, keeping said hand furthest away as she opened it. Her anxiety very quickly vanished as she noticed exactly who was at the door. Anthony Cross, was no real threat. Despite his height and understandably incredible amount of knowledge, the only real power he had was that of money. Why he was doing here, she didn't know, but her Browning re-materialized into hammerspace as she opened the door a bit wider.

"I'm surprised that you of all people are here Doctor Cross." came Ingrid's somewhat apprehensive response.

"Joint interests. Neither myself, my company, nor you kind folks at the FEB have anything to gain from widespread civil discourse. Especially not from walking WMDs. Pardon the allegory."

Ingrid raised a brow, despite his outwards, well dressed and well kept appearance, and his career as a technologist and engineer, Anthony's bassy southern drawl did not fit him at all. "So you're here to help us?"

Anthony nodded, "In incredibly brief terms, yes. Though I don't think talking about this though a door frame is the best way to go about it."

Ingrid agreed, stepping back for the man to enter, closing the door behind him. "Well, I'm afraid most of our number are out on assignment, so you may be waiting a while."

As Anthony hung his coat up he commented, "Decentralized council then. Not what I expected, but, I suppose I can't exactly comment."

[Dyelli Beybi]

Cuttlefish nodded and had her phone out a couple of seconds later... To take a selfie, "I'm going to caption it 'me and my buddies out on patrol'," she paused to give people time to glare at her before adding, "Oh, relax! I'm not going to tweet, post or anything else until after the mission. Hey, bug boy, want to pose with me later and try to stay some rumours? I can be anyone you like -" her accent switched to a very good impersonation of Kaleidoscope, "- particularly of it's me."

The comment drew an eye roll from the other woman. It wasn't always clear with JJ of she was really as shallow and frivolous as she made herself out to be. Kaleidoscope nodded in the direction of the building where there continued to be no response from any of the people inside. No gaps of surprise or any sound of movement, "That isn't good. I was expecting people to be streaming out by now. Did anyone ask Blur what the 'Master' can do? She wouldn't talk to me."