Spacer Unfriendly Pillagers 10
  | Asymmetry | Role-Playing | What If | Unfriendly Pillagers |





    While fighting against the storm, Adrian grits his teeth behind his helmet, aching for an opportunity to incapacitate or capture one of their main opponents before they can leave. "A captured officer is better than a captured soldier, and I don't even know if we have any of those!" Despite his anger, prudence takes hold—he might, if he were lucky, be able to contain Skurge on his own, but both of he and Thor (if it is the REAL god of thunder), alone, in this hurricane? Never happen. *Stick to the plan—let them go, regroup, analyze what happened, take the fight to them later.*
    Union finally gets around the wreckage and begins magnetically and physically moving it about in hopes of finding a survivor from the Thunder-God's devastating attack.
    Union is relieved to discover Emerald had dived clear of the car just before the explosion. "Thank God you're alright! I'm Union. Stay low and we can ride this storm out. y the way, quick thinking on the warehouse fires—and very impressive!"
    Emerald picks himself up from the ground, dazed but not injured by the explosion. Any thoughts of taking the offence against the God of Thunder are forgotten as he spots the rapidly departing dragonship. He looks around, the concern etched on his face.
    Further away, near the water's edge: "It's good to see you're alright," Curt says to Darkangel as he continues to pedal to shore. "It looks like this round goes to the gods."
    The pale man brings a hand up to his head as he shuts his eyes against the stabbing pain that jolts through his temples. A slight moan escapes his lips as he turns his gaze upon the man who it appears, had saved his life. "Hey buddy," he says weakly, "Did you happen to get the number of that truck?"
    Very dimly Darkangel becomes aware that he's standing in the middle of a powerful tempest, his already battered body buffeted by wind and rain. With effort he manages to stagger to his feet as he slowly shakes his head. He once again turns to face Connors, shielding his face from the storm. He casts an almost casual thumb in the direction of the retreating God of Thunder.
    "Don't tell me, let me guess," he screams over the storm, "Ol' red is throwin' hisself a little hissy right? I may not be in the shape to chase his Godly butt down right now, but I'm sure gonna see that he don't hurt nobody else around here.... hold onto yer tights pal," Darkangel calls to Connors as he waves his hands, feeling the darkness rise once more within him, he blankets the entire area in a dome of sheer darkness in an effort to protect whoever is still left from the fury of the crashing storm.
    About the same time, trailing blood from his stinging chest wound, Captain America reacts against the sudden storm. "Oof!" *Alright, man, keep your head clear, get out from under this weather, get up, up and away.* Rolling to his feet, the Captain takes a 5 step running start, his powerful strides carrying him to the edge of the dock even against the gale, and with a final push...
    ...collides with a curved wall of solid, pitch blackness that instantly appears in front of him. Looking around, everyone can see the enormous dome stretching from the water's edge to more than 200 yards back into the city, covering most of the battlefield and protecting everyone and everything therein from the freakishly powerful storm, still audible as it pounds the outside of the dome with hail, rain, and lightning.
    Darkangel closes his eyes as the pain lances through his skull. Dark beads of sweat begin to form on his pale brow as he strains to keep out the storm. *This would be a lot easier if old 'Thunder Thighs' han'ta use my head fer a freakin' volleyball,* he thinks to himself.
    Slowly he opens his eyes to see Dr Connors dragging himself up on the shore. The pale man forces a smile as he speaks to his rescuer, "Buddy, I just wanted to tell yah thanks fer savin' my hash out there. The handle's Darkangel by the way. I really owe yah big time." The pale hero winces as another wave of pain floods over him, causing his forced smile to waver slightly. *and I owe Mr. Thunder God pretty big too...* , he thinks to himself... *That boy is gonna get a grade A butt-whoopin' when my head stops pounding...* Continuing to hold his smile, he continues to talk to Dr. Connors in a voice completely at odds with his appearance. "Don't worry, In spite of the whole 'Angel-of- Death-Steal-yer-Soul' rap, I'm one of the good guys. I can hold this storm back for a while I think. Can you check on the other guys and see if they made it in one piece?"
    Darkangel throws a wink at Connors then closes his eyes, concentrating on maintaining his protective dome until the swirling tempest has burned itself out....
    "It's good to meet you 'Darkangel'. You can call me...Delta V. I'll go check to see if everyone is okay." With that, Delta V races off to check on the other heroes and the innocent bystanders.
    Captain America ricochets off the darkness, thudding and sliding across the boards of the wet dock. As the young hero SLISHH skids to a wet stop against one of the timber pylons, he is only dimly aware of the trail of lacy crimson tracing the path of his crash landing. The salty smell of the harbor mixes with a coppery taste in the back of his throat. He numbly clambers to his feet.
    "Get-KOFF!!" he wipes flecks of red from his chin as he clears his throat wheeling around in a roaring address to wherever the source may be, "GET THIS BLASTED WALL OUT OF MY WAY! THERE ARE STILL PEOPLE ON THAT BOAT!!!" His voice cracks with desperate exhaustion. He rapidly shifts his weight from side to side, partially out of frustration, partially to keep from keeling over. *...Funny. Still no pain...* Another cough wracks his body, and he barely notices Delta V's approach.
    Delta V speeds through the streets making sure nobody is harmed. He skids to a stop when he comes upon Captain America. "That's a nasty wound on your chest, Captain. You're bleeding like a stuck pig. You'd better let me have a look at that." Delta V examines Cap's chest wound and tries to stop the bleeding.
    "No...*huff*...time. They'll be gone in a minute! I'm..." His eyes go glassy for a heartbeat"....Fffine. No" A vigorous shake of the head and Cap looks up, visibly more composed, but still weak. He gazes intently at the wall of shadow in the direction of the ship, as if fire were about to leap from his eyes. He appears to be mustering himself for one last charge on the ship, crashing through the shadow wall if need be...
    Connors, under the guise of Delta V, struggles to keep Captain America still as he examines the wound. It is quite deep and long, and Delta V is amazed that the Captain isn't dead, or at least in a great deal of pain. He is sure that the mighty Captain America is going into shock, which could prove deadly. If Captain America would just sit still, Delta V could stabilize his condition.
    "Now there's something you don't see every day. But then again, today's the day for that." Union's tone has a jauntiness that Adrian doesn't really feel—he's bruised, tired and downright angry about being so thoroughly beaten. On the other hand the enemy is gone, which means the civilians are safe.
    "Well, whatever the winged guy has done to protect us from the storm has also shielded the Vikings escape. We should turn our attention to helping the wounded and cleaning up." He lays a sympathetic hand on the young telekinetic's shoulder, seeing his own concern and frustration echoed in his crudely-masked features. "I'm going to go coordinate with the police and we need to get some light in here."
    Emerald looks around then concentrates for a moment. A bright green lantern appears in the air before him. He plays the emerald beam it projects around the dome, looking to see if anyone needs help.
    The green light casts an eerie glow across the scene. Emerald looks about and sees that there are many people wandering around in a daze. The EMS people seem to have things more or less under control. Damage to the neighborhood is extensive, what with the fires, the wreckage to the streets and storefronts, and the brief, but powerful, onslaught of the tempest.
    Union turns from the boy and flies quickly over to the emergency and Police vehicles. *It's been a few weeks since I was in the papers, but I home some of these people recognize me. I'd hate to get shot.* He gives the police a wave and moves towards one of the worst parts of the wreckage, where Captain's use of the ship as a crude bludgeon tore through the street. *According to my magnetic scanners, the power grid was exposed The damage doesn't look too bad. A few seconds of rewiring and a jolt from my own power supply should get all the street lighting on line until the winged guy gets rid of the dome or the city power officials turn it on themselves. Until then, the emergency workers will need some light to get these people taken care of.*

| Top |     Next Page


© 1999 Mark L. Chance et al