[Earth][2nd/3rd/5th/9th/10th/12th/O] Week 323: Operation Concrete Whiplash

[K3]

WARNING: Determined casualties oh-four-six. Determined fatalities oh-oh-nine. Remaining heat signatures oh-four-oh.​

The trio made good time, quickly disappearing around a corner and leaving Annika and Michael to their triage. A small amount of time passed, the distant booms of gunfire and the crackling of flames providing a dire ambience as they desperately moved from patient to patient.

A women clutching a child sobbed, cradling it in her arms and unwilling to look away. A man rested his hands on her shoulders comfortingly, blood streaming from the side of his face.

Two others approached the site, reiryoku rife on their forms. One wore the battered jumpsuit of a prisoner. The other appeared to have draped some manner of bedsheet or curtain over themselves as a cloak. The prisoner, male, clutched his hands forward as he neared the pair of makeshift medics.

"Oi, don't suppos'n you could lend us a hand?" He spoke, thick cockney accent slurring his words as he gave a lopsided grin. The other stayed near him, but did not speak, preferring ambiguity.

Meanwhile, Mouko had rounded the corner to find herself staring at the source of the incredible heat signature. His feet drummed against the broken concrete, scorched imprints suggesting the worst. Behind him lay the husk of a mortal he had drained.

His face, freckled and gaunt, curled into a slight frown. Tobacco wafted from him, and at his feet lay what remained of his blunt. Exhaling, he gave a dry chuckle as vents of steam jetted from between his lips.

"Well now, quite the assortment you have Major," He spoke, dim amusement in his hazel eyes.

Mouko's eyes widened, and she was immediately on guard. The wrapped bundle held in one hand shifted, and the man's posture became aggressive. "How do you know who I am?"

He laughed more harshly, an almost choked sound as he stepped away from the rubble, where another blackened streak signified where he'd been leaning. "So quick to forget me? So quick to forget us?

"I remember." The man's amusement stopped suddenly, frown retaking his features. "I remember oh so well how you let those beasts tear us apart."

Confusion laced into the woman's dark eyes, and she dared not allow her eyes to stray from him. "Edward, take him and search our surroundings. I'll keep you covered."

"Will you?" He snarled, his hands flashing outwards at the pair of Quincy. His palms seemed to glow red-hot as he unclenched his fist, molten iron launched with terrifying speed at the two!

[ 409 / 2266 ]

 

[Bish]

Tama had followed along silently, eyes wide with fear and anxiety. The trio had marched through an innumerable amount of rubble piles strewn about on the once thriving streets of Tokyo. He could not discern whether they were innumerable due to their sheer quantity or because he was too jumpy to notice.

When they came upon the burning man, he could feel the heat emanating from both him and his victim. He could only stare on in horror at the arid monster as the Major managed to have some semblance of a conversation with... it. Something with a power that terrible and no visible remorse about using it couldn't possibly be a person. Instead, he was becoming overtly hostile towards Mouko.

Then came the stream of molten iron.

With a response that could have only come from spending months running away from his fate, Tama launched into a Hirenkyaku out of pure instinct. The Quincy reappeared several meters to the right of Mouko, landing rather heavily on his feet. When he reappeared, the Native was wielding what appeared to be crescent moon in his left hand.

"Major, I don't know what you've gotten us into," the Quincy said in a forced tone of calm, his eyes still fearfully focused on the man's glowering palms. "But whatever his problem is, it's pretty obvious that he's not fucking around. Tell me you have a plan."

 

[Time Lady Katie]

The kitsune was not a doctor. Not even close to a doctor. But she had cobbled together a rudimentary sled and was helping some of the more critically wounded people onto it. Where she could, she repaired the gravest injuries, at least temporarily, but making animals, false skin, anything living that she could make in order to be used as a tool to stop bleeding. When the large sled was loaded up, she quickly painted a large horse that could drag the injured to a hospital.


As for the people with more minor injuries, she did the best she could not know what she was doing; she imitated people on television shows. Stop the bleeding, flash a light in their eyes and try not to frighten them with the random creatures she was using to treat their injuries. She was nearing her limit of artworks, though, and she didn’t have the kind of energy it would take to sustain this many for very long. The horse had to make it to a hospital. Other than that, she was going to have to scale down her tools.


“We need an actual doctor!” shouted the American, “Is there any real doctor among you? A nurse? A medic? Anything?” She just couldn’t do it. People were going to die and it was going to be because she had no clue what the hell she was doing.

233 Words
648 Total​

 

[K3]

WA//RN#%%NG: Sit))at&&&& detereorating. Determined fatalities o/h'''-on@-f4u4. R<<mai>ing;;; \\]/at si--+?atu////s oh,,,-tttttW-^^^^^^^^.​ FATAL ERROR DETECTED​

A shaky looking civilian stood, raising a rattling hand and nodding his head. He took a deep breath to compose himself, and looked to move towards another person. The prisoner's grin slipped into a neutral look. "Rude, that is. You should know to be more..."

He took two strong steps forward, clutching the doctor's head and slamming it into the ground. Blood leaked from underfoot, and screams sounded outwards. "... cordial!"

The man stood upright, looking at his now-bloodied hands. He gave a single chuff, and turned to the two makeshift medics with an unhinged look. "Now then, would ya kindly answer me question?"

Another sloppy grin painted across his face, more menacing than cheerful. A mere few steps away, his companion remained both silent and ambiguous.

The molten metal slammed harshly into Edward, a hoarse groan of pain escaping his lips before he was slammed against the collapsed building's wall. The metal spat and burnt on his unprotected skin, his spine aching in protest as the remaining steel rain pelted the concrete around him in great plumes of dust and steam.

Tama's accusation fell on ears that were no longer present, the Major was already in motion. The man's freckled face contorted in surprise as he caught the haymaker Mouko had sent at him. A moment later, he was launched bodily away and the woman rolled her shoulder. Steam rose from her knuckles, unharmed.

She didn't say anything, instead moving back towards Edward as her energy began to pour forth. A great weight settled onto the Native American's shoulders, but remained largely unaffected. Furiously, she gestured to the inside of the building, her words a stern order. "Less mouth, more action. Check the first three floors and no further. I don't care if you have to drag casualties down the stairs, get them near the front door. Go!"

The dark-haired man was already approaching once more, his humor and patience decidedly worn through. The heat wafted from him in great vents, and Mouko had only time to immediately stabilize Edward's wounds before her opponent was charging her down. Cursing, she rushed to meet him. Ducking low, she hissed as steam pressed against her skin like a prickling itch, his fist soaring over her and sending forth a gout of sparks.

Their melee intensified, leaving Tama to his work and Edward to watch. In the distance, they could hear a clamor of jeering and laughter.

[ 405 / 2671 ]

 

[Thanatyr]

I froze up, his heart beat faster and time seemed to slow down. Adrenaline surged in his veins. Then the pain hit. Searing along his neck and legs that faded with the branding wounds which stung on the open air.

The heavy flak jacket he wore was nearly on fire, reacting as quickly as he could Edward unclasped the harnesses and shoved the entire thing off. His rifle’s strap had burned off, but the stock and barrel luckily only looked dusty. Using the length of the gun as a makeshift crutch Ed stood shakily and began making his way to the front entrance as ordered.

“You can count on me,” he rasped to the Major. God, everything hurt. No matter the training, nothing prepared the young man for a stream of molten metal. Still, to be frozen in the spot like a deer in the headlights. Shaken and wounded in more ways that physical.

Spinning away from the combatants, he saw a single opening away from them and towards the stairs. Energy pooled at his feet and carried him away. On the far end of the step he staggered and roughly began to climb the stairs.

“If I can walk, I can still help,” the half-German promised to himself with a whisper.

[218/1420]


OW

 

[Apeiron]

Rising to his feet, Michael narrowed his eyes at the convicts. Without speaking another word he began wiping his hands of the dirt and blood that had sullied them.

“I apologize about that,” he told the convict, his tone oddly distant from what it had been. “But as you can see we’re quite busy.”

Moving very carefully around the wounded, Michael started making his way towards the convict. When he was almost within arm’s reach he rummaged through his pocket for a small metal tube.

“Here,” he said as he handed over the vial. “It’s not much at the moment but this’ll stop the bleeding. Just pour it over your wound.”

[558]

 

[K3]

Accepting the vial with sloppy grin in place, the man popped the cap off quickly. His expression slipped slightly as a waft of silvery mist blew into his face, and he cast a wary expression to the man. Then, with some hesitance, he crouched down and rolled back his pant leg.

A small pool of blood had begun to gather beneath the man, the source revealed to be a nasty gash along the side of his left calf. Allowing the contents of the vial to pour across the wound, he hissed lightly in pain, and cast a half-strained look to the pair of makeshift medics. "There, now was that so hard?"

The cloaked one had, with attention drawn away from them, managed to place itself between the Mephisto, the patients, and Annika and Michael. In the distance, a rumble sounded.

Mouko ducked low, bobbing beneath the rapid jabs the man lashed forward with. Tucking in and rolling away, the convict slammed his fist into a half-destroyed wall, spider-webbing cracks upwards as the very ground shook. Withdrawing his hand where a black pock-mark had been left, he lashed forward with a front kick.

This time, the Major caught it. Twisting her hands, he sneered and lunged forwards in a vicious hook. Ducking underneath it, she grabbed him beneath the shoulders and threw him bodily away. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could glimpse Edward propping himself up, rifle at the ready.

The glance cost her, a harsh blow across her cheek sending her spinning. Regaining quickly, she panted out her words in the midst of the battle. "Gunkou! That's what they called you..!"

"Damn straight!" He snarled, a stomp emanating scalding air about her. "Yet here I am, some fucking convict fighting for some fucktard out of his mind!"

Mouko crossed her arms, enduring the blast as layers of skin and flesh were torn from her arms. Quickly, the wounds began to seal over, disguising the damage within. Her own snarl answered back. "Birds of a feather!"

She punctuated the last word with a brutal knee to the man's sternum, a hook following it up and sending the man sprawling! Coughing lightly, she shouted out. "Edward! Hit him now!"

Tama only heard the tail-end of the cry, his mind elsewhere. Frantically, he was pulling up the prone and encouraging the frightened. Quickly, people poured from the ruined building. Then, voices below. The sound of shattering glass.

"Oi, look at this little crowd!" A voice cackled, "we must be on a roll, eh Izukawa?"

A muffled snort was the answer, and then the screams began. Chaos erupted and as he frightfully peered down the stairwell he was situated on, he could make out the forms of five people - four male, one female - standing over a prone form.

[ 469 / 3140 ]

 

[Thanatyr]

Hearing his name, Edward spun on the stairs in time to watch the major knock one of the convicts back and onto the ground. Taking a knee stabilized his aim, and though everything hurt his sights rested on the man who skidded to a stop.

He’d never shot someone before, and all he wanted was to live his life without ever having to. These men were trying to kill him, and would have succeeded if not for the fancy flak jacket that smouldered off to the side of the fight. They wanted him dead, so the feeling should be mutual.

An arrow welled up with the arms of the crossbow, released as soon as it was ready. Ed knew he had a little left for one more shot. A second arrow manifested in the chamber of his rifle. With a flick he sent it on the same path as the first, towards the convict’s center mass.

The thought of killing someone, even a ‘bad guy’, was sickening. Wincing, the quincy turned closed his eyes before the pair of arrows potentially snuffed out a life.

[184/1604]

 

[Apeiron]

“Painless, actually,” Michael replied. Turning his head away from the criminal, the man cried back to Annika, “You might want to start looking in another direction.”

The final word falling from his lip, the silver liquid erupted into a dazzling and brilliantly glowing white light. People flinched in pain and shock the moment everything happened. The injured cried out in surprise, many of them flinching which only spurned them to yell louder.

Whether or not the young woman had managed to look away in time, Michael didn’t seem to care. With the immediate spiritually aware hindered he unveiled himself and took action.

Reishi drew around his left wrist where a small silver pendant and chain hung, carefully concealed in his sleeve and away from prying eyes. With his right hand he drew it back, like the draw-string of a bow, towards his chin, an arrow formed from the sparse existing reishi.

In a heart-beat his bow was nocked, arrow ready, and loosed in practiced fire - a solitary arrow fired from point blank at the criminal’s head.

[735]

 

[K3]

A hoarse cry of pain accompanied Allen's shot. By the time the flash cleared, the unhinged man was already upon him. Blood poured from a wound in the side of his head, a sizeable chunk of his ear missing. At his temple, the pale gray of bone could be glimpsed between the rivulets of precious life fluid.

The haymaker swung fast and hard, a half-slurred insult screaming down Allen's ears. "I'll have yer head for a mug ye scrawny shit!"

A sharp gasp split the newly-revealed Quincy's attention, and a form crumpled to the ground in the corner of his peripheral. He was too preoccupied to hear the distant wail of sirens. A roar in his ears drowned it away, a flash of vermilion in his vision before his own opponent was upon him.

Light spun in Mouko's eyes, Edward's shots blue and bright. Her eyes scrunched briefly, leaving seared imprints behind her eyelids before the ground beneath her trembled. Gunkou gave a raspy cackle, and Edward felt the air leave his lungs. Thrown bodily into the street, he could feel blisters curl at his chest - the volatile energies of the Advent stinging at his skin - and looked up to see the fast-approaching convict.

He didn't get far. A fist slammed against the center of his back, his form stumbling forward. Mouko, with fists blackened from fighting the incendiary man, reeled back and chose her moment. The world slowed and accelerated like a spring uncoiled, and she could glimpse the low jab Gunkou shot for her gut.

Twisting around it, she seized the arm and locked it behind his back. A jarring series of clicks had the convict's eyes widen. "No..!"

Spinning on the spot, the freckled man lunged forward, steam issuing from around him with the roar of a jet engine. Edward was blown bodily away, Mouko found herself grasped by the man's free hand. The air burnt at her clothing and skin, patches browning and flaking away with the burns as Gunkou refused to relent.

Then, horror dawned on him. Fire, bright orange and dyed in every color of the sun. It wreathed about Mouko's arms and legs, over her chest like a lordly robe. Her reiatsu soared, pressing into Edward like a vice. The convict's knees buckled, and the Major declared the ability proudly, "Kyoka, the Ignitor."

Gunkou withdrew his hand, gasping with the sudden heat of it all. An instant later, the same heat was scalding his wrist, and his other arm was yanked forward to reveal the one handcuff locked to it. Another series of clicks, and the whine of jets receded to leave the convict gasping and slumped in the concrete.

The dull crackle of Kyoka persisted, and a moment later Mouko's attention was drawn away. Shouting, and screaming. A moment later, Tama's form erupted from a window of the dilapidated building. Five figures rushed from the building, and her eyes widened. They had firearms..!

"Get to cover!" She screamed, slamming her foot into the ground with such force that Tama stumbled to get behind her. The concrete rent upwards, and she peeled it up to create a makeshift barrier for the two Quincy. An instant later, a lead curtain showered around them.

Automatic gunfire slammed against the sizeable chunk of earth, chipping away at it piece by piece.

"We got ourselves a live one lads!" One man shouted, bringing forth a rousing cheer.

White Horse agents! Mouko realized, ducking back behind the large slab of concrete. Bullets pelted their shelter, and the woman's mind raced for a solution.

[ 597 / 3737 ]

 

[Thanatyr]

The movement of the convict had been a blur before the impact knocked him around. Still he held onto his rifle. In a major stroke of good luck the impact of the attack took him away from the unpleasant people with guns on the other side of the newly formed rubble wall.

This street looked like it might have been quiet, a nice neighborhood, once upon a time. Now as far as Edward could see the cityscape was more akin to a warzone. Plumes of smoke streaked the skyline. Then there was the pounding of gunfire against the makeshift cover the Major had given them.

Mentally, in a moment that seemed to take hours between the thudding of bullets hitting the wall, he went over his injuries. A few ribs were likely fractured, or at the very least badly bruised. Although if any part of him wasn’t going to end up bruised after being tossed around like a rag doll, that would be a surprise.

My vision isn’t going cloudy, no vertigo, and I can still think straight. At least I don’t have a concussion, Ed told himself, bracing up against the wall. Everything was burning. They had no cover, and no backup.

Scanning the battlefield, the quincy found something that might help at least a little. Shouldering his rifle, and ignoring the stabs of pain as best he could, Ed let off a single arrow that burst open a fire hydrant. Water streaked over the street, and over them, to start striking the building the gunfire emanated from. A wall of steam from the fires filled the entranceway.

Better yet, the cold water soothed Ed as it fell more lightly over them.

[283/1887]

 

[Bish]

The eyes of the woman he dragged out of the building still haunted him like the specters that so often plagued his life. He found himself shaking from the force of Mouko's titanic strength, sinking to his knees from the tremors of her impact. The more he learned about this woman, the more afraid he got. The Native knew a little bit about the men in black from memories of his father, but humans who could shatter the very earth with impunity and summon tigers? What sort of enemy would merit a woman with this kind of power?

The firearms at her side disturbed him even more. If there were enemies in the world that could not be handled with the might of a titan, what kind of ammunition stood a chance?

Tama looked at the crescent-shaped bow in his hand. Whatever pride he'd acquired in his abilities suddenly began to sink into a slow oblivion. This weapon in his hand was known as a Sanrei, one of the more powerful weapons of his race. His angular face glowed in the moonlight of his weapon. Against such an enemy, could his arrows really make a difference?

He had to know.

The Native prepared a single shot, pouring as much energy into it as he could without hurting himself. Rarely had he used all of his power for the purpose of destruction, but there was no other way to stop this man. He could feel the man's energy calling out to him like a beacon, telling him exactly where he needed to fire. Tama popped up from behind the cover and let loose a bolt of spiritual power. It screamed toward the molten man's chest, powered by the fear and desperation of a boy with everything to lose. He then quickly ducked back behind the slab.

Notes

Sorry this took so long. Life just kinda socked me in the face. Bright side: I no longer have to move.

Anywho! That's an arrow worth 1450. Tama's Kyuuzu is around 1k, but he had a fair amount of time to prepare. No unusual effects attached.

 

[K3]

The keening wail of Quincy arrows matched the deafening cracks of gunfire. The makeshift screen of water elicited shouted cussing, the agents relocating only for one to be blasted off his feet by the screeching white bolt of Tama's.

Coughing and wheezing, the man whimpered enough to let Tama know he was alive. As the four remaining people filtered onto the street, the gunfire intensified. One fired haphazardly, focusing their efforts on freeing the slumped Gunkou, who had fixed the quickly-shrinking cover with a venomous look.

Hissing under her breath, Mouko couldn't help the cringe as more of the concrete curtain chipped away. She cast a look to Tama, and to Edward. The fear in both was palpable, Tama shrinking into as small a form as he could manage as Edward worriedly surveyed his wounds.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to find the words.

"You got a name, kid?" She remarked, voice even and calm.

He fixed her with a baffled, terrified look. She kept her gaze on him, not flinching even as he did whenever a particularly close shot buzzed past them. Finally, he stuttered out an answer, "T-Tama. My name is Tama."

Mouko nodded, before reaching into the inside of her leather jacket. The shoulder holster inside was matched by the glint of steel, and Mouko withdrew her revolver. As she spoke, she popped open the breech, withdrawing a single bullet. "You know, we all want to be heroes, if only a little bit.

"We want to be the person other people cheer for. The person that everyone looks to for answers. It's a rush, it's like finding your purpose in life." She placed the bullet on the ground, "I didn't join Orpheus so I could kill people, but that didn't stop them from training me to."

Leaving the bullet upright on the ground, next to Tama, she snapped the breech shut, brandishing the revolver. "This revolver has seven shots in it, Tama. I have four targets. I could hit every single one of them, but what kind of hero can I feel like after killing my villains?"

Mouko took a deep breath, and patted Tama's shoulder, before looking to Edward. "You did good, soldier. Rest easy, I can hear the sirens from here. Our relief squad is on the way.

"Tama?" She turned one last time to the teen. "Do me a favor: count to ten, and whatever you do, don't look from around this cover. Understood?"

The young boy froze, then nodded slowly. She smiled at him. "Good."

The word 'one' left his lips in time for one deafening bang to echo in his ears. Where Mouko was she suddenly wasn't. The gunfire from around the barricade intensified, joined by a fresh report of bullets, a trademark boom that drowned out the other weapons. Silently, Edward counted them.

Only four ever went out, and then they stopped. When Tama reached 'ten', the pair peeked out from around their cover. The four White Horse Agents were sprawled out, unconscious. Mouko stood, a condemning look painted onto her normally cheery face.

Turning back to the pair, she holstered her revolver. In the distance, another rumble.

Allen ducked low under the haymaker, and a third shot quickly put the rabid man down. He whirled on the cloaked figure, another pair of vials in his off-hand. The cloaked figure was there, a pair of short knives bearing upon him and then suddenly not. Abwehr did its job, the figure tumbling backwards before recovering, lurching forward.

The air around the Quincy distorted, and Hirenkyaku brought him swiftly around to the cloaked one's side. An arrow tore open the cloak, revealing a man of remarkably similar features as the first!

Lunging forwards, the man's face curled into a vindictive grin as he plunged his knives forward... only for them to meet nothing. The flickering image disappeared, and the crackle of energy behind him was enough to let him know of his mistake. He whirled, perhaps to plead or perhaps to resist, but he never received the chance to.

The arrow struck perfectly, lifting the man off his feet and sending him sailing backwards. He crumpled onto the ground, and lay still. Breathing heavy for it, Allen tried to ignore the spasms of his bow-hand and the burning just under his skin, forcing his mind to focus onto the now-prone form of Annika.

He held a hand to her neck, and breathed a sigh of relief. She was alive, if unconscious. A nasty hit to the head, but nothing immediately life-threatening. As the sirens grew in his ears, he looked up to see the approaching ambulances.

Mouko, Tama, and Edward returned swiftly. A crackle over her SIREN alerted them to the growing situation. "Communications reestablished. Confirmed that the Tokyo Bay has been secured as well."

Final [ 803 / 4540 ]