2013.08.06 - Trump of Queens

11:45pm EST.
Cincinnati, Ohio.
The neighborhood is not far from downtown, and it's not the prettiest, to be sure. Most of the homes are run down, the streets are dark, and there are any number of neerdowells strolling the streets at this hour.
The house is nothing special. Two floors, three bedrooms, sparsely decorated with the bare essentials. Some of those who have been gathered here received a more personal invitation from Shift; the others, not so much. They were simply given an address, and an invitation to come on a job. Both delivered electronically, both with the promise of pay.
As soon as everyone is gathered together, including the young mutant known as Billie Circuit (who bears a mutated eye and ear for technology, if not a terrible, terrible nickname), Kwabena makes to gather them all together in the house's basement.
"Take a look around you," says Shift, while motioning around. "We have an assortment of weapons. A variety of armor choices. Military-grade field gear. Take your pick, and gathah your things. Anyone who has gear of dere own?" He grasps a trio of spray-cans and sets them upon a large fold-up table in the middle of the basement. "Camouflage paint. Washable after five hours. Dis will be a rural terrain, so, make it good."
Next, Kwabena opens a rugged laptop computer, the kind that are designed for heavy duty wear and tear, and spins the display around so that the others can see. He points out an area approximately twenty-six miles northeast of the city's perimeter, well into the rural fringes of the Tri-State area. With two fingers, he causes the display to zoom in, and as the image re-defines itself, the aerial snapshot reveals their target to be an old, abandoned quarry.
"Dis is de target. Dis quarry was abandoned decades ago, only to latah become a top secret Sentinel facility. On official channels, it has been decommissioned. Howevah, I have it on good faith that dere is an experimental Sentinel platform being designed, right here." He taps the map again. "About as off de books as it can be, but with enough funding to prove dat someone powahful was behind it. A person. Perhaps a government.
"If my sources are correct, de Sentinels designed here were to have superior combat abilities and a higher-order CPU processor. This means better and more varied decisions in a field environment." There is a pause. "As well as assuming local control of satellite Sentinels."
He gives that one room to breathe.
"We're going to go in, infiltrate, and grab as much material and data as we can. Hopefully, we'll be in and out without raising any eyebrows. Howevah--and I'm sure I don't need to say dis, but I will--dere is a chance that we will encountah defenses. We'll have to be smart, quiet, and ready to blow a hole in anything that comes our way."
Strilka arches a brow at the information Shift conveys. "Perhaps we should be blowing hole in Sentinel, too?" she suggests. She's heard all the information before, since much of it was filtered through her sources in the Brotherhood. "Before is operational." Her accent is thick, Ukrainian, but her English has improved significantly in the past year. 
(Yes. It's been a whole year, now, since she was freed from Poznyar. And it's been one hell of a year since then!) 
Aside from that, however, she doesn't much comment on the rest of the plan. It's Shift's show. She gave him what feedback she could, earlier, and now sets to ensuring her regular gear, and what extras she decides to pack, is ready. She spends considerable time inspecting the payloads of several high tech arrows, however, whose use isn't, remarkably, purely destructive in nature. They're not the only surprises she has available to her. Only the most obvious.
She also, however, keeps her senses open, observing the strangers that have been invited to join them. This is the first time, actually, she's off on a op without the usual people she relies on around her to back her up. And she really doesn't know just how reliable her companions truly are, yet. The best she can do is speculate, observe, and... trust. 
And trust doesn't come easily to the Ukranian archer.
One of those personal invites managed to find its way to Domino. She's ditched the antiquated gear she had pulled out of some poor, unsuspecting farmer's barn and helped herself to the new stuff that Kwabena had (somehow) managed to secure. She's not going to ask.
What results is a standard all black ensemble that's complete with more straps and buckles than an inner metropolis Goth Night, fitted with sidearms, blades, explosives, spare mags, and a suppressed M4 Carbine that practically looks like a pistol with a stock slapped onto the end for good measure.
To be fair, the upper receiver had originally been intended for use with a pistol. Laws, what are those again?
An orange tinted pair of ballistic glasses rest atop of her head, leaning against a nearby wall as Kwabena runs through their plan of the evening. She could almost applaud the guy, it's a good presentation. But, she's more focused in examining the other individuals that have agreed to be a part of this run. It's a curious mix.
Billie looks like the hacker sort with zero combat experience. Lunair, last Dom heard she had been running with Deadpool. So..insane, but familiar with fighting. The other woman must be the one he had called Strilka before, already she's one to keep a close eye on. There's something downright peculiar about the woman. Dom's not sure if she likes that or not.
"I'd agree with that call, but we wouldn't be a stealth op if we're blowing things up. Best option, remote shaped charges. Flip the switch once we're already gone."
"..." Poor Billie. Lunair might seem sympathetic. She has the red and black armor Deadpool scrounged up for her, though she never did figure out why he fought crossdressers (?!). "... I have some gear, but I'll have to be painted," She offers quietly. She will listen, more than speak. She remembers Kwabena. She emotes a little better, but there's still something very, very off about Lunair. She peers over as he explains. And Lunair's ... saneish. (ish is close enough, right?! ... right? Wait, this isn't government work) At least she's lucid enough to take orders and do her thing. She seems to quietly trust Kwabena. "Explosions and stealth do seem to contradict one another, remote detonations aside." Says the chick who pulls mortars as a party trick. She looks to the others, familiar with Domino and Kwabena. The Ukranian lady she's entirely unfamiliar with, although she seems polite.
"...Which, we have plenty of," interjects Billie upon the end of Domino's statement about remote shaped charges. "And if one of you lovely ladies will be nice enough to cover me when we're in there, you know, when the bad guys start shooting, I'll make sure to place them all where it really, really counts."
Kwabena slowly turns to look at Billie Circuit, fighting hard to keep the smirk from his face. "Fair enough, but your priority is collecting data."
"Yeah, yeah," he mutters. "Always with the da-"
"And keeping your mouth shut."
That seems to shut Billie up good and proper.
"Dat being said," Kwabena continues, while crossing the room toward one of the many supply racks in the basement. He reaches into a certain box and retrieves a number of small devices, which are little more than data storage units with universal connection ports. He starts tossing them toward each person. "I want everyone to keep dese, just in case something happens. Our numbah one goal? Information. Our numbah two goal..." He tips his head toward Olena. "... is blowing holes in Sentinels. If we actually find any, I'm pretty sure we'll be moving on to numbah two in short ordah. I'll be calling de shots on this one, so don't do anything funny or stupid unless I'm dead or undah mind control. Billie?" He gestures toward Lunair. "Paint up Lunair for me. Make it good. We move out in fifteen."
Fifteen minutes later, Kwabena is suited up. His uniform, of sorts, seems a bit more like that of your conventional superhero(villain?) than what paramilitary types might wear. That's because it is made of unstable molecules, which are capable of changing with his body's unique mutagenic ability. It is padded in places, giving it the appearance of being armor, even though that wasn't really a necessity. In addition to basic field gear, everyone has been provided an in-ear comm unit and a backup GPS locator device.
Outside, there is a nondescript black SUV. It's windows are tinted just beyond the legal limit, but considering the neighborhood they're in, that's not at all abnormal. The vehicle is, however, armored, and bears some juicy modifications to its engine and transaxle to improve its performance. Parked in a narrow driveway between two houses with the front facing the street, its open doors will block the team as they enter from the back of the house. As for Kwabena? Looks like he's driving.
"Don't care how or when hole in Sentinel blown," Strilka notes practically, glancing between Domino and Billie as she does. "Only that is done. Most advanced Sentinel in world -- capable of... what? Hive-mind? Is good to kill before active. Before kill us, da? Otherwise, whole world become Poznyar." A beat. Ignorant Americans probably don't have a clue what that is. "Auschwitz," she substitutes. "But for mutants."
There's a happy thought, neh?
So, yeah. She's all for covering the geek while he does his stuff.
The hyperperceptive mutant reads the body language the lucky merc gives out, however, and cants her head to one side, returning the albino's gaze cooly. Her hands still move automatically and efficiently over her weaponry, in an experienced manner Domino will no doubt appreciate. She just happens to prefer bows to carbines. That, however, doesn't stop her from adding firearms and blades to her personal arsenal -- a high-end sniper rifle among them.
She catches the tossed data unit effortlessly and adds it to a pouch on her person. Her own 'uniform' probably rivals Domino's in that it's black, high tech armour. A new set she's still breaking in, actually. The higher her star rises within the Brotherhood, the more accessible the really good stuff becomes. (Well, that, and she's made 'friends' with a really inventive black market supplier, recently.) 
Still, the archer will follow Shift's lead. She knows the drill well enough. So, fifteen minutes later, as ready as she can be, she's in the shotgun position of the UV, ready to roll.
Dom's worked in teams before. Mercenary stuff aplenty. The others here might not be traditional merc varieties but the atmosphere is close enough to accurate.
WHen Billie speaks out she glances his way with a bowed head and an amused smirk. "And you're going to be the annoying dick of the operation. Glad we got that cleared up."
Ah, so blowing up Sentinels is a goal. To that she lets her cut-down carbine hang from its sling, not saying a word as she returns to the weapons rack and retrieves a single shot grenade launcher to supplement her own gear with. And a bandolier full of extra shells. Eat your heart out, Schwarzenegger.
Gear in place, two angled black lines beneath her non-marked eye, and the pasty little albino with fifty-odd pounds of ordnance is good to go.
Huh. That black SUV is his? "Hell, Shift. Thought you had federal agents camping out here."
The sniper beat her to the front seat. That means Dom's in the back with Lunair. And, wouldn't you know, she brought that Savage 99 along just for the heck of it. That's '99' as in '1899.' It's old. It shows. Don't ask her why she brought it with, she honestly couldn't tell you.
Lunair is quiet, though her face goes red at the being painted thing. Wait. Wasn't she just borrowing paint? She has a baffled, muted, distant expression as if she's not /quite/ sure what face to make. "Cover is good," She offers quietly. She'll be armored and painted. She isn't hyperperceptive, but she does know how to pay attention. Strangely, she feels somewhat odd out as one of the few metahumans here (what is it with serums, really?). Happily, her armor is, well, itself. She's a decent team player and has no objection to quietly following along. She smiles faintly.
It's hard to knock classics? She does ... seem a bit off, no weapons with her. She folds her hands in her lap, over a copy of: 'Miss Manners for Mercenaries. Missiles or Rockets?' Oh no. OH NO. Lunair's still trying, it seems. Regardless, she tilts her head, puzzled by Billie. He doesn't really make sense to her. Not really. She is in back with Domino, and smiles politely over. At least... she's slightly, VERY SLIGHTLY (like Sheen on a 24 vs a 48 hour winning bender) better about facial expressions. Ish.
Billie Circuit is about to snark back at Domino. Before he can, he's introduced to the very firm grip of Shift on his upper arm. Wincing, Billie looks over at the African, who merely shakes his head and gives Billie a very firm, warning expression.
There are many ways to silence an annoying dick.
"If you knew how much hard is passed through Camp Washington," Kwabena answers Domino while referencing the neighborhood and its influx of crack cocaine, "you'd realize we fit right in."
That explains the lurkers.
The trip out of town is long, for Shift isn't interested in breaking any speed laws. He keeps the radio silent, and fortunately, Billie Circuit isn't really bothering anyone, for he's got his face balls deep in the durable laptop throughout the entire trip. Soon enough, the SUV is pulling off a main road in the hilly northeastern rural area of Warren County, and making its way down an old road toward the quarry. Tall trees nearly blot out the moonlight, leaving a thin peppering of stars in the clear skies above.
Shift turns out the headlamps after placing a set of nightvision goggles over his face. A stern frown has taken him, and he's gone utterly silent. Soon enough, however, the SUV slows to a quiet halt. There, in the dim light of the moon above, it is easy to make out the lines of a tall, durable fence. Judging by the thick, metal bands and occasional bump of insulation, it's an electrified fence.
Shift puts the car in park, and glances toward the back seat. "Looks like we walk from here." To Domino and Billie, he says, "Make sure it's not bearing current. Lunair, cover dem up close." Then he looks toward Olena, giving her a slow nod of his head. Seems he intends for she to stay behind with him, offering cover from behind until the fence has been breached.
Strilka nods lightly to Shift as he gives his orders. She pushes her door open and climbs out, taking a moment to resettle her gear about her -- slinging things across her back where they couldn't be before. She unslings the sniper rifle, however, raises it to her shoulder, briefly, and sweeps it slowly across what can be seen of the perimeter in the distance from here.
Nothing immediately apparent. So, she waits for the others to move forward and stays by Shift's side. She'll scan again, properly, once they're in better position.
(Like a bunch of kids out for an evening of Airsoft Wars.)
They're a person short but it still kinda reminds Domino of her time with the Six Pack. The energy's way off, not everyone here knows of the other. For that matter, she's still trying to work out how it is that Shift knows Strilka. Albino senses tingling... Not that she's going to say a word about it. If you can't make nice with your team's sniper then at least try to stay on neutral ground with them. The gal's confident. She'll be cool at the trigger.
So why hasn't Dom heard about her before? Strilka can't be a merc... There's a few large, colorful pieces missing from this puzzle.
When the SUV stops Dom's out of it without delay, keeping low and leaving the Grandpa Gun tucked away in the back footwell. A glance is passed over to Lunair, followed by a twitch with her head. This way.
Confirmation doesn't take long. Over the closed circuit coms she says "Watch the wires, they're hot." It's not the wires that hold her attention, however. It's that keypad.
The collector license plates on her 'borrowed' Porsche, those are all numbers. With an amused smirk she keys it in, rewarded a second later with a green light and an unlocked handle. (The universe provides.)
"Looks like we're in, kids."
Cover them close. Okay, then. Lunair can do that. She doesn't seem surprised she's not heard of Strilka. She tends to follow Deadpool around and do quieter jobs, herself. And she's on close cover. Looks like it's time for her old friend, Mr. high end Rifle and his friends, Shelly and the Fleshwounds. It's a very top end hunting rifle, and strangely? The black rifle just freaking /appears/ in her hand. How strange is that? She listens, but seems uncertain at talk of crack cocaine and fitting in. She's pretty much always perfectly sober, which might make her dysfunction all the more terrifying. She's quiet and well behaved today. She nods at Dom's headtwitch, slinking along. Cover, cover, cover. She beams as Dom manages to open it. She glances over to make sure Strilka and no one is missing.
Shift climbs out of the SUV along with Strilka. He is lightly armed, it would seem, for given his mutation, it was difficult to carry too much gear. It seems his role in this operation is to rely on the others, for all he carries with him are one of the data-storage units, a handgun, and a rifle.
That being said, the rifle is unlike anything any of them, save Strilka, has ever seen before. It is long, sleek, and seemingly crafted out of one piece of metal, jet black in color. Upon its barrel are a number of thin venting grills, and two LED lights blink a soft red. Where the shoulder stock would be, however, is a hole that resembles, of all things, an intake valve. This he readies up against his shoulder, taking up a position of cover.
As soon as Domino notices the keypad, Billie Circuit is right upon her, tailing her like a hungry dog. He's about to edge her out of the way when she starts keying numbers into the pad, and his eyes go wide. "What are you doing?" he hisses.
Poor guy doesn't understand probability manipulation.
When the unit shuts down and the handle unlatches, Billie shoots Domino an altogether unimpressed scowl. Stubbornly he reaches out and pulls the handle, opening the door. A rather sarcastic gesture is given, his own way of saying, 'Ladies first'.
Hearing Domino's report, Shift gives a nod to Strilka, and advances along behind the others.
The group walks along in silence. Beyond the crest of a treeline, an impressive hole in the ground opens up before them, descending deep into the ground and extending in what must be at least a quarter mile radius before them. With no light but that given by the stars, it's impossible to see where, exactly, the entrance to this secret installation may be. There are no visible bunkers, no massive warehouses, no signs of military presence.
It's going to be a long night.
That is... until Strilka's foot catches on something in the ground.
Domino just missed tripping on it. Probably because had she done so, she'd have fallen on her face. Strilka, on the other hand, with the grace of an Olympic athlete, will be able to keep herself from making a fool out of it. However, that probability manipulation sure is doing its thing, for the device turns out to be a crank of sorts, which was hidden in the dirt and out of sight. Once Strilka's foot catches on it, a hatch in the ground opens nearby, descending into the earth with the quiet sound of servos running.
The hatch reveals a stairway descending downward, lit dimly with old utility lamps strung upon the walls.
Strilka's got more than grace on her side, when it comes to avoiding tripping hazards. The moment the edge of her boot even begins to press against the crank, she pulls back and twists automatically to avoid it. But, she spares it a second glance and crouches down to clear debris away from it. As she does, it turns... and the hatch reveals itself. 
A dark brow arches. Softly, her accented voice sounds over the closed-frequency com. "Hello. Avon calling..."
Well, hey. They've got enough makeup, right?"
"Doing your job, apparently."
Domino is just all grins when she rains on Billie's parade before it can get started, making a kissy face at him as she slips through the now open fence. No explanation is given for what no doubt seemed an incredibly reckless and stupid act.
She's familiar with Lunair's 'weapon out of nowhere' trick. Doesn't stop her from whispering "You're still creepy." And that book she had been reading before..! It's like the Little Mercenary That Could.
The perimeter layout is ..confusing. If they really were making Sentinels here then there should be some really massive doors somewhere for them to find. Sentinels are not tiny, they can not be flushed down the pipes when they're ready to be deployed. They're missing something here, she can feel it. It's close. Probably right under their noses--
Strilka finds the hatch.
"You're welcome," Dom offers, knowing perfectly well that most of the people here aren't going to understand why she would ever say such a thing here.
While the hatch is opened she takes cover on an armored knee behind an overgrown bush, the stubbiest of M4's tucked into her shoulder to provide some cover. Not that it seems necessary.
(Don't Sentinel facilities also have better exterior defenses..? Motion, starlight, infrared..something? This is way quiet.
"Clear east and south, got our backs." She'll fall in line after the others.
Uh oh. She seems surprised by Shift's weapon, but takes a note of it - perhaps for inspiration. Her eyes widen at Billie, from her spot nearby. She is close cover, after all. She seems confused at mention of Avon. Didn't they blow one of those up once? Oh well. She's never sure. But she is painted.
Poor Lunair. She's going to keep trying. She sadfaces at Domino for a second. But she seems aware that it might be true, or it might just be teasing. Maybe even both. She doesn't seem to mind one way or another. She might or might not get there. But if Miss Manners can handle a rocket launcher, she can figure out salad forks and greetings, dammit. She just smiles after a second. "... wonder if that's like having my fly down eternally," She whispers back. It's a good question, and at least Lunair's good natured enough to go with it. For her part, though, she seems to be businesslike today, staying near for cover. (But not too close because then it goes from close cover to creepy cover)
"Uh..." Billie stays close to Lunair, after seeing her little trick. "That's cool." Kid's at least being hush hush about it, even though the rest of the team probably wishes he'd keep his little trap shut.
Once Domino reports, Shift reaches up to switch his goggles from night vision to infrared. He does a slow scan of the surrounding trees and the canyon below, then reaches to remove the goggles. "Area secure," he reports, and hands the goggles to Billie. "Stay frosty. Look for traps." Then, he turns to Strilka, nods his head to her, and takes point by entering the stairwell.
The stairwell is long, and bears a slight curve in a direction that indicates it to follow the pattern of the circular shaped quarry. The stairwell itself is fashioned in a half-moon shape, much like the tunnels that lead into the Tube stations of London. Strilka will notice that there are thin slits cut into the metal-encrusted walls and ceiling, behind which are nozzles that appear to be designed for emitting high powered energy. Lunair will notice that there are panels in the wall, positioned at erratic intervals. If investigated, these panels are easily removed, and will reveal sophisticated power junctions that are currently not being fed electricity. However, they all appear to be thoroughly intact.
Strilka has range and heightened awareness on her side. She's perfectly happy to take up the rear. Though, frankly, as they begin descending the stairwell, she slings the rifle back over her shoulder and pulls out her bow, instead. It's 'friendlier' in the enclosed environment. Quieter, too. The report of the longarm in the enclosed stone space would be almost as deadly as the projectile it fires. 
She pauses, however, briefly, to inspect the slits in the wall, acute vision piercing the gloom to take in the energy nozzles. Her nose wrinkles. She twists and fishes into a pouch, pulling out a small object and a small tool. She fiddles with them for a moment and then holds her palm up to the nearest slit. The object in her hand rises on little spindly legs -- a micro spider -- and skitters off her fingertips to ease through the hole in search of ways to disable the power matrix that controls those defenses. 
Wouldn't want them going off accidentally, after all. And Strilka does so love sabotage. 
Besides, Mouse said he wanted to know how well the design worked. She'll know soon enough. 
Mischief managed, she nocks and arrow against the string of her bow and continues her way down the passage.
Dom makes sure that the hatch is closed behind them. Just in case. She's got her high contrast ballistic glasses and a holosight to aim by, not ideal for dark conditions but overall more durable than Shift's fancy goggles. Stairs are taken quietly but swiftly, shielded eyes searching everything and everywhere since the chances of anything sneaking up behind them at the moment are slim to nil.
"It's a tomb," she mutters into the mic, her expression settling into a light but persistant frown. "Keep an eye out for automated defenses, just because we don't see people doesn't mean the place isn't still breathing."
When Strilka holds back she instinctively stops as well, it's never a good idea to leave any one person out there all on their own. She's kinda glad she stays behind, too. This other woman uses a bow, yet she has small, automated spiders at her disposal..? Orange-shielded eyes stare at the Ukrainian for a moment, her expression saying everything that would need mentioning. Who is this woman? Someone with her own agenda? A spy? Well backed financially, it would seem. Why, then, does Dom not have the slightest idea who the hell she is?
"Party's getting away from us," she says without any emotion, falling back into motion without ever fully turning her back to the archer.
Weirdly, Lunair doesn't seem bothered by Billie. Maybe for once being slightly out of step with the rest of the world is paying off. She still seems quietly fond of Domino in her own way. She blinks at Billie and whispers, "Thanks. That's nice of you to say." She pauses, noticing the panels. "There's panels here, with electronics," She offers, in a whisper. She seems curious about the others. She says nothing, her own gear likely giving her some sort of night vision or holosight thing. She keeps quiet, but she seems curious about the panels. She keeps her rifle close.
Noticing some of the motion behind him, Shift stops near the bottom of the tunnel. He turns only briefly to glance back toward the others, before turning back forward and covering the unknown below.
Billie smirks at Lunair, and reaches out to run his finger along one of the panels. He pops it off quietly, and peers inside. "Power junctions," he whispers. "No juice." For a moment, he eyes Strilka, then shakes his head and motions back toward Shift, saying to Lunair, "Come on!"
Once the team is back in sorts, Shift leads them down until they come to the bottom of the stairwell. Judging by how far they've gone, the stairwell has led them well over halfway down the depth of the quarry itself. Once the bottom comes into view, Shift holds up a hand, motioning for the others to follow. His movements come slower as he creeps toward the precipice, then flattens himself up against a wall just before the tunnel's exit.
Beyond, a massive room opens up. Where the tunnel flattens and ends, it leads to a catwalk that overlooks a very large and very Sentinel-sized laboratory warehouse. There is plenty of open space, and a number of sophisticated computer terminals that seem to be offline. The place does seem to have been emptied, with a number of empty boxes littering the room here and there, and other signs that much of what was contained in this place was cleared out.
Rifle held at the ready, Shift motions for Lunair and Billie to hang back. Then, he looks directly at Strilka, points at her, then motions toward the wall opposite him. To Domino he points next, then aims down toward the ground. A crouching position would keep her hidden from whatever lurks in the laboratory below.
Once everyone is in position, he looks across to Strilka. His mouths form the words, 'One', then 'Two', and then on three, he swivels around the edge and onto the catwalk, quickly making a visual scan of the area below with his eyes, sophisticated rifle at the ready.
There are no soldiers. No sentinels. Domino described it best; a tomb. However, that doesn't mean that this party is necessarily alone...
"Hey! Hey guys! HAAAAY YOUUUUU GAAAAAAHHSS!" 
Deadpool tilts back a bit drunkenly on top of his perch. His perch happens to be a giant dismembered, skeletonized Sentinel head in the center of the major assembly room, left slightly askew under the weight of a collapsed structural support. "What 're YOU doin' here?" he slurs. He takes a few very unhealthy belts from his bottle of tequila, then with a waAAaugh falls backwards off the Sentinel skull. 
The D to the Pooly staggers around the Sentinel, both arms in the air, walking up to Shift and The Gang. " 'sh like WOAZ hai guys!" he cheers, obviously drunk. There's more than a few tequila bottles laying around. "So /I/ was all 'Ok events at liek 5:30' then ol' Shifty texts me an' he's all No it's at THREE thirty an' I'm liek wtf mate so-" he belches sonorously and produces a chimichanga. "So /I/ was all 'what, screw that guy' and then yellow text box was like, 'Domino's gonna be there! She's hot!' He lurches, pushing a finger into Shift's sternum. His mask eyeholes get very big as his finger jams the phase-shifting mutant hard enough to punch a little gas hole in his sternum. He looks at Shift groggily. "Now you can't say you've never had a dude inside you. NEITHER CAN HIS MOTHER! Deadpool 
"An' we ALL KNOW that the yellow text guy is a jackass," Deadpool says, as his original train of thought resumes boarding at the station. "But then the /white/ text box was like, 'You should RP more' and I'm like, well, sure." He belches again and kills the tequila bottle, then hurls it at Shift's head. It whizzes right through, and Deadpool cheers. "Hah! 'never gets old," he slurs. He leans on Lunair's shoulder heavily, using her as a convenient armstand. "So like, I didn't bother to read th'event thing, what's going on here again?" he asks. "Something with Sentinels, and way too much cross-alt RP? Becuase liek, we've got like three *whispercoughBrotherhoodtypes* here, counting my alt, an' that begs a lot of conflict with the game and internally, or whatever." He ruffles Lunaire's head, wagging a finger scoldingly at all your players. "This gal's the only one who's not cheating! Also seriously, Domino, I bet ol' bucket head's gonna be all 'Waaaugh you got made' an' 'Jean spotted you!' " he points at Olena, "an' shame on /you/ for usin' your alt to spot her mentor doin' her thing when she's RPin' with her own mentee's alt!" 
"so like, who's next up for posing, or what?"
 
"An' I don't /care/ if I screw'd up th' formattin' on that pose, you can't read the yellow text ANYWAY!"
Strilka moves across the catwalk, finding the position Shift indicates. She watches his signal and, as he sweeps up, so does she. Her bowstring draws back and... Deadpool is lucky he doesn't get an arrow between his drunken eyes. 
That said, the merc with a mouth proceeds to run off at the mouth in that way only he can -- a completely new experience for the Ukrainian archer. 'Cause, really? He wasn't nearly that off the wall in the froyo place way back when. 
He gestures around, makes all sorts of wild, insane, and totally unfounded (!) accusations, his volume doubtlessly announcing him to the rest of the facility, if they weren't already aware there's an intrusion afoot. Strilka stares at him, decides he's had one too many bottles of tequila, and promptly ignores him in favour of making a sensory sweep of both the Sentinel lab itself and what means of egress she can perceive at the edge of her awareness. Just in case there are people sneaking around or hostile machines powering up, doncha know. 
Yeah, that whole stealth element they were shooting for? Gone. Gone and then some. Domino's on one knee covering her point when an all too familiar voice yells out, echoing in a way that only creepy, vacated underground facilities can manage. If that isn't out of place enough the ranting that follows sure covers all of the bases, including some she didn't realize even existed.
"What. The fuck. Is he prattling about."
When said prattling turns in her direction she snaps the tiny little carbine with the big scary suppressor back up to her shoulder, zeroing in on Deadpool's head. "The hell are you talking about!" she hisses. "Got made? Jean spotted me? Jean who? Doing what?"
The plane? New York Harbor? China? The rest of his rambling makes absolutely no sense to her, yet one random comment out of one warped little head happens to fall right within a designated ballpark. It's probably a good thing that he threw that tequila bottle when he did or she would have shot it right out of his hand. It's only through impulse control that she didn't pull the trigger the instant he called out to them all.
Maybe she'll have to shoot his head, instead.
Lunair nods at Billie and stands aside. She follows as he tells her to come on. She takes in the ways and rooms, the catwalks and tunnel. And then at Shift's motioning, Lunair will hang back with Billie. Cover and Billie-minding. She can do that. Though, she has to wonder why this place seems so quiet. Skynet? Loss of wi-fi? Outbreak of super food poisoning? But then, her already crazy train of thoughts is derailed harder than a forum discussion on politics. She blinks, eyes widening as Deadpool staggers around. "..." Weirdly, she shrugs and smiles. She stifles a giggle at her boss' dialogue. She looks over as she's used as an armstand. She looks baffled by it alll. What's this about Jean and conflicts and alts? Lunair goes cross-eyed a moment. Well, at least they can't get any LESS stealthy! It's the small things, right? "Hi Deadpool!" She offers, in a soft voice and waves.
... it is kind of alarming that Lunair seems completely accepting of Deadpool's antics. And maybe a little bit telling about her. "... I have no idea what it all means." But it sounds important.
Stiffening, Shift swivels his rifle and aims it directly upon Deadpool, only the sight of him brings more pause than the incessant and absolutely senseless rambling does. The rifle begins to drop, but as soon as the Merc with a Mouth approaches him, the rifle comes right back up. "---De hell are you-" he starts to interrupt, but in short order, he's accosted and silenced when his head briefly turns to smoke.
Seeing Strilka stalking off, Shift comes right back to the moment. Disregarding Deadpool, he snaps his head to the side. "Billie! Terminals."
He'll leave Lunair to attend to Deadpool. Maybe that's the silver lining behind him showing up. How he showed up will have to wait. They have a job to do.
As Shift hustles Billie along down the catwalks and toward the computer terminals, Strilka also remains mindful of the operation at hand. Her hyper-perception will pick up on many things. For one, there are more slits in the walls and ceiling, suggesting that the defenses she'd located are not limited to the passageway. However, she took care of those above, didn't she? Well, there's more. The large Sentinel head doesn't seem at all dissimilar from the others that have been encountered before, and oddly enough, there don't seem to be any other Sentinel parts lurking about. What she will notice, however, are a series of ports in the quarry-facing wall, which very much resemble large torpedo tubes. Most of them are closed, but one seems to be hanging open, revealing a long tube lit with tiny blue LED lights.
Still, there are no signs of troops.
Billie gets to work promptly, fussing with one of the terminals in an attempt to bring it online. Shift stand guard nearby, trying so hard not to glower at Deadpool. Instead, he keeps his eyes trained on the surroundings, watching the movements of Domino and Strilka. "Start cataloguing everything you can," he announces, no longer seeing need for quieter tones (and needing to talk over the blabbering of Wade). "Any small pieces you can gathah, do so."
Suddenly, the terminal comes online, and Billie hops out from beneath it. "There we go, now we're cooking!" He promptly removes his data storage device, finds a plug, and gets to work. "Oh man. There's lots of data in here to download."
 
"And there's a /button!/" Deadpool immediately charges right for the center of the console, ignoring everyone's statements of outrage and protest. Especially Domino. Man, that chick is nuts. He shoves Billie out of the way Billie is how /girls/ spell it. Slooooowly he peeks up from the lip of the command console, staring at the big,shiny red button surrounded by big, yellow and black stripes. 
"Look at it. So... shiny. I shouldn't press it, right?" He looks at Shift, one hand poised and ready to slap the button. "Right? Even though it's totally begging to be pressed?"
Strilka stands quietly, turning in a slow circle, observing, analyzing, considering. "Shift," she says softly into coms, steadfastly continuing to ignore Deadpool (at least until he presents a clear and present danger to her and, maybe, the others). "This room. Is mousetrap. I am sure. There are too many weapons and power systems in walls and ceiling." A beat. "How big is new Sentinel? We no standing inside its chest or something, da?"
Because, you know... Could happen. 
And that button?
Her bow comes up. All she needs is the micro-movement of his finger towards that button and she will fire an arrow through his hand to keep him from it. (At least, that's what she'll aim to do.) The last thing they need is the idiot activating the Mighty Morphin' Power Sentinel Zord or something equally stupid.
Aaand she's ignored. After all of that. Potential major breach of security. Domino's ignored. In favor of a candy-colored button.
When Deadpool's hand starts to hover over that button she can't help but breathe out a quick sigh. "Oh to hell with this."
Strilka has the right idea on how to handle the Mouthy Merc. The stubby carbine merely taps Dom on the shoulder with a single Thip! of a subsonic round passing through the suppressor. The shot's lined up with Deadpool's arm. The one that's outstretched toward that big red button surrounded by caution stripes.
How else is she going to try and discourage the guy from where she's stationed? It'll get his attention and he'll heal, probably before the spent brass finishes bouncing and rolling across the floor.
"We're not at commercial break yet, Wade. Don't touch that dial."
..Did the Ukrainian chick just say this was a trap..? She's about had her fill of mousetraps lately, too.
Something about Rita Repulsor and her monster growing. Was that a naughty metaphor? Lunair isn't sure, but she never trusts a lady with boob cones. No siree. She watches Billie and the others from her spot. She goes wide-eyed as Deadpool zooms for the button. She looks around the room. Someome say something about a trap? She looks to Domino, "Sorry... Er." Lunair really isn't sure. She's apparently trying to pay attention to too many things at once. She does have her rifle steady in her hand. Also, she calls dibs on not being a foot if it's Voltron or something.
"Hey!" cries Billie as he's tossed aside.
On instinct, Shift's rifle whips about and takes aim at Deadpool's face. He glowers at the masked merc while listening to Strilka's report. "Pahhaps. We have a job to do," he reminds her, while keeping his eyes glued to the merc. A subtle reminder to keep collecting data.
Meanwhile, Billie has recovered, and has the data-module tucked close to himself. He eyes it for a moment, scanning it with the telepathic ability that seems to be able to read computer data from any device. He frowns, glances toward Shift and Deadpool, then goes scampering off toward one of the other terminals. If the weird red and black guy is going to press a button, he's going to see if the other terminals have more data. So far, all they have is garbage. Nothing of real interest. The primary storage core is, literally, -gone-.
"Deadpool, do not--" Shift begins, but the strike of a bullet against the terminal silences him. He doesn't know who shot it (probably Domino), nor does he know if it even hit the merc, but he's had enough.
An instinctive twitch, Shift clicks the firing stud. The weapon sucks back against his shoulder in an odd way, and then with a very quiet, muffled 'pew', a burst of white-hot plasma is sent at relativistic speed from the barrel of the rifle, headed straight for Deadpool's face.
You paged Deadpool with ‘Hit the button! Hit the button! And when you do, simply pose that a few red siren lights come to life, and a soft 'red alert' kind of sound. I'll handle the rest. Got a fun surprise in store for the big reveal.’
 
"OW! Fudder MUCKER!" Deadpool spins and whirls around as the bullet tears a big hole in his arm. "Ow ow ow! Ok, I'm better." He glances at the giant plasma scorch just past him, then frowns at Shift. "Shoot me again, and I will beat you to death with a Dyson vacuum. It'll suck as much as his mom! HAAH! "I'm /super serials/. Luna! Vacuum!" He pauses. "...or a vacuum /gun/! Whichever is easier!" 
He holds Shift's gaze for all of three milliseconds before boredom sets in. "And I'm /not/ gonna press the button, just because a /certain someone/ in this room wants me to press it! So it can just sit there! Unpressed and unloved!" 
He squints up around the room, standing akimbo. "So like, what is this place?" he asks, sounding completely sober. "And where can I get chimichangas?"
Strilka relaxes her bow slightly, enough to ease the tension back on the string, at least. Since everyone else is shooting at the merc, she doesn't need to waste her ammo. Instead, she moves to the edge of the room and starts checking doors and exit strategies.
True, the goal of their mission is information, but... she just doesn't buy the idea that the base is entirely empty. She starts wondering about hidden surveillance systems and starts listening for the hum of electrical current, trying to mentally trace where the circuitry in the wall is going. Perhaps another one of Mouse's little bots?
She fishes in her pocket for a moment and pulls out three of the little beggars. Again with that micro tool. She sends one of them skittering down the hallway to check the rest of the base and report back, but lets the other two do their bug sweep.
"Is computer geek done yet?"
This really is turning into a fustercluck. For Domino, the important part is that Deadpool hasn't pushed the button. (He probably will, given enough time. The trick now is to be ready to bolt by the time he does lean on it.)
The really weird thing, amazingly, isn't the other merc. It's Kwabena's strange new gun. (Is that--?)
"Great, now he's got a gun that shoots Shift," she mutters.
Point to Strilka and Billie, honestly. With all of this going on they're the two that are managing to stay focused on the gameplan, more or less. She'll be the third one to follow that mindset. This is Shift's operation. It's his responsibility to handle the obstacle known as Wade Wilson. They've got an entire facility left to sweep. Strilka goes one way, Dom goes the other.
If she's lucky they won't fire upon one another by the time they reconnect.
Haaah! It's shoots Shift! Take a letter away and it makes a naughty word!
Wait, two letters.
No wait, I was right. One letter.
....Spelling is hard.
"..." Well, a request is a request. Lunair takes a moment to think about a vacuum gun. What if a dyson vacuum met ghost busters? "Wait, you're not going to-" Surely he's not going to suck Shift up!? But a vacuum gone is certainly doable and rests nearby Deadpool. It looks like a Dyson met Ghostbusters. Yikes. "I'm not sure that /works/..." And she pauses at mention of Chimichangas. "Not for a good distance." She looks apologetic. She watches Strilka go quietly. Then ponders shooting Shift. Shiftbullets? Shiftcannon? One eye kind of tics. Better not think about that too hard. She watches Domino go, "Be careful." And to be fair to Lunair, she's been covering them. Like a snuggie on a bored housewife. Definitely.
"Jesus Christ," curses Shift. He lowers the weapon just so, and turns away with a scowl, moving away from Deadpool. He's got a computer geek to cover.
Billie Circuit fiddles with the second terminal for a moment, only to find the same results. He sighs melodramatically at the device in his hand, then turns around to study the room curiously. "No core... no core... wait a second." He approaches the discarded Sentinel head, and crouches down to study it.
Meanwhile, Strilka's spiders are scurrying about, doing their surveillance of the area. The one taking to the hallway is sent off to find, well, nothing. However, the others are starting to collect information at a rapid pace. All throughout the compound, there are mechanical pieces that simply don't fit in with what would be required to operate the facility's computers and defenses. Each individual component inactive, yet self sufficient, with its own power supply, circuitry and mechanics, and a small, basic radio transceiver.
Each of them hidden cleverly within the very infrastructure of the underground base.
Finding a port in the Sentinel head, Billie plugs the data device in. He only has time to press a couple of buttons, when the Sentinel's eyes come to life, glowing bright yellow.
"It's a," Shift starts to say to Deadpool, against his better judgement, but his voice is summarily cut off by a mechanical one, coming from the very Sentinel head Billie just activated. It's voice cuts over all else, echoing through the facility with a tone that is somewhat more human than the voice other Sentinels may have displayed. "INITIATING POWER SEQUENCE. MUTANT PRESENCE DETECTED. ACTIVATING SECONDARY PROTOCOLS."
Shift runs toward Billie, but it's too late. The computer geek is suddenly ensconced in brilliant blue arcs of electrical current, scorching his skin and armor. His mouth is ajar in a silent cry as the electricity scores his flesh to a crisp, frying his nervous system.
Shift reaches out and swats the data-device with the butt of his rifle. It goes soaring across the room, and right into Domino's path, smoking and certainly hot to the touch.
Meanwhile, red lights come to life all over the place. The hatches in the wall slide open, and from all over the room, pieces of the wall, floor, and ceiling begin to eject from their places. Tiny jets fire upon each device, lifting those from below that came from the floor, and hefting those from above into a flight path. The pieces seem to move about as if they had a mind of their own, and one by one, they fire blasts from their jets, and go zooming through the hatches and into the tubes, out of sight.
Yep. Trap. Colour Strilka surprised. No. Really. 
Ok. Maybe not. 
The Ukrainian archer switches arrows swiftly, even as the energy net is humming to life. She sends a heavy explosive round winging its way toward one of the hatches and the pieces zooming towards it. It's not a hatch over or terribly near one of her current teammates, however. She's trying to disrupt the process, not kill everyone in the room. 
Even so, her attention, now, is on how to disable or kill the technology coming to life... before it can do the same to her.
"Hey, Archer," Domino quietly keys into her mic. "Ever feel like we're on one big Easter Egg hunt?" Things..just lying about. Curious in their own right, but how are they connected to everything else as a whole?
The unexpected voice is impossible to miss down here, instantly sending a chill through her spine. "Goddamnit, we've been made!"
If she didn't crouch down at that very moment she would have taken the cooked data device to the temple.
The problem is that discarded Sentinel head. To that she can only think of one possible solution, one which immediately presents itself when Billie gets fried to a crisp. "Shift, heads up!"
The 40mm grenade launcher comes up in her left hand, held out at the length of its strap as she aims down at the robotic head and bumps the trigger with a THOOMP!
And Deadpool, regenerate! Or better yet, "Wade! Commercial break, push that button!" ..Y'know. When he's able to after the high explosive shell does its thing.
At this point, what do they have to lose?
With a flick of her wrist the palm-sized chunk of brass rings out like a dinner bell across the floor, hands working to reload the single shot weapon while her legs are dashing the rest of her for cover.
Poor Billie. Lunair was pretty okay with the guy. She looks on in horror as the poor guy is zorched. But that's always how it goes, isn't it? She is stock still, watching things slide, open and come to life. She hefts her rifle, quietly dismissing it. She pulls an ionic rifle instead. She saw this on SyFy once, between Mansquito Battles the Half Clothed Cheerleaders and Pirhanaconda Goes To The Kiddie Pool. Something should probably tell Luna that TV and the internet are not the best places to catch up on things. And then there's a freaking head. And an explosive. And then - well, fighty. She takes cover, lifting the ion rifle. "I hope this doesn't blow up. Hey wait, the thingy." It's probably a hot thingy and grabbing hot thingies is BAD.
A heavy explosion erupts from Strilka's arrow, obliterating the hatch and the pieces of mechanics that was headed through it. Another chunk slams right into the wreckage left behind, clattering to the floor for a moment before righting itself and swiveling about to 'look' at Strilka, before blasting its way across the room in her direction.
With Domino's warning, Shift dives away from the Sentinel head and goes rolling across the floor, keeping his rifle tucked close. He's nearly cooked by the resounding explosion that wracks the Sentinel head.
"SECONDARY PROTO-- SECONDARY... SECONDARY..."
The Sentinel head is scorched, but its armor was tough. It's still intact, but the glowing yellow eyes flicker and disappear.
Rolling to a halt, Shift presses the gun against his shoulder again, narrowing his eyes reflexively as it fires three super-focused bolts of plasma across the room, tracing one of the mechanical devices. Two scorch marks appear in the ceiling, but the third finds its mark, blowing a hole through the device and sending it to the floor, sparking.
Save for the blocky device that was zooming toward Strilka, however, the rest of those pieces seem to have made it to the tubes. They are gone, out of sight, and soon enough, it would seem that the short-lived battle is over.
The data-device skids to a halt, still smoking.
Rising to his feet, Shift takes stock of the room and what has become of it. All over the place, there are empty holes in the infrastructure where those flying mechanical devices emerged. He looks off toward the row of tubes, uttering not a word as he looks on warily.
A few moments of silence pass.
".... REBOOTING. ACTIVATING MASTER MOLD BETA PROTOCOL."
Gusts of displaced wind come from the tubes in the wall, and a sound Strilka would be the first to recognize. The mechanical devices, wherever they had been sent to, are coming back, and they're coming back fast.
Even as the piece from the destroyed hatch comes rocketting toward her, Strilka calls out, "External incoming!" Yes, she hears them returning. It's not a pleasant thought. It's also not her primary thought. Her primary thought is: Get the fuck out of its way!*
(*Translated from Ukrainian.) 
Projecting it's trajectory, she dives, pulling another arrow from her quiver as she goes. She doesn't fire this one. There's not enough draw for her to fire. But she can fling it. And with her ability to manipulate trajectories, flinging it should work just fine -- providing she hits it at just the right point in its arc. 
The explosive head of the arrow smacks into the rocket part, sending up spectacular fireworks, while the archer continues to roll and come back to her feet.
(Master Mold..? The Hell is that, the world's largest Jell-O form?)
Those flying things are next to earn Domino's attention, though by the time she's got the carbine leveled at one of them it's already gone into the wall. It would seem that all which remains is the disconnected head, which barely took a scratch after taking a grenade to the face.
A straight-out evac wouldn't stop the problem. They can't simply walk away from this. Something has to be done. Damnitall if she can't help but think that button Deadpool would have pressed before is the key to all of this. "Somebody try that button!"
She can't, on account of things about to shoot back out of the walls. Strilka is once again on the ball, and she's got the moves to back it! In similar fashion Dom's got that feeling in the back of her shoulders, doing a sort of backward flip/armless cartwheel as the M4 sweeps around and fires once more, straight into the path of another one of those devices being shot out in her direction.
Synchronized gunslinging. It's a thing now.
"We've gotta pull the plug before we evac, shut it down now!"
Where the scalded body of Billie lays, there also lies a satchel. Within that satchel is a whole heaping collection of remote shaped charges. Billie was a fan of Domino's idea, but Billie is toast.
Shift does not want to press that button. He's half tempted to tell Domino to push the damned button herself, with her luck, the Sentinel head and its drones would blow themselves up.
Regardless, it's time for a quick decision.
"Luna, get de explosives from Billie's satchel," he says into the comm, even while running through the fray toward the terminal and that big red button. What the hell happened to Deadpool, anyway? He was good in a fight! "Place dem at de base of every wall."
Skidding to a halt, rifle held aloft with one hand, Shift looks at the big red button doubtfully for a moment.
There's no time to lose. Domino and Strilka's marksmanship is beyond excellent, but still more of those mechanical devices are starting to flood through the tubes like a swarm of bees. One might come to think that thousands of them were scattered throughout the massive quarry beyond. As they fill the room, they begin collecting upon one another, quickly taking the form of something very recognizable.
"Damnit." Shift slams his fist into the big red button.
And, just like that, the lasers concealed within the walls and ceiling come to life. Strilka may have disabled the ones in their exit path, which is great and all, but these seem to be on a different power grid. Typical.
The bright red lasers begin to slice across the room in a somewhat random pattern, leaving behind smoking tracks in the walls and floor. The ever-forming monstrosity that those pieces of mechanized devices seem to be forming... scarred by the lasers, but intact.
... archery seems popular. Lunair's eyes widen at the explosions, though she ducks down so she doesn't get blinded. Lunair will see if the thingy is hot, carefully nudging it with a toe tip. If grabbable, she'll pick it up. Someone might say she's good at grabbing thingies. She would argue, never on the first mission (ahem). And she is loathe to just leave this be. And huh? A satchel. "Okay." She'll do as she's told, keeping her ionic rifle with her and scampering around laying the charges as told. Bases of the walls, bases of the walls... Though, she does say a quiet prayer to someone for Billy. Whomever listens and takes hapless, electrocuted nerds anyway.
Arrow after explosive arrow goes zinging from Strilka's bow. The woman hardly misses a beat. It's her gift. She immerses herself in the flow of the battle, in the flow of her body, and the flow of the bodies and objects moving around her. It gives her the micro-seconds she needs to adjust course, narrowly avoiding being perforated or splattered across the walls time and time again. She's not perfect, mind, but staying alive is a really great motivator. 
So, it's a dance of death. 
When the explosive arrows run out, she's cutting loose with what other ordinance and arrows she has, timing her shots and aiming for the weak points, where she perceives them. 
She doesn't know exactly what Master Mold (Beta) is, but she's knows it's BAD. And she knows it means to kill her and every other person of consequence on the planet. (Read: Mutants.) 
When she runs out of destructive ordinance, she starts pot shotting laser turrets -- redirecting them to fire on the construct forming in the middle of the room. 
 
"Ok, I'm back!" Deadpool skids to a halt in the middle of all that destruction and carnage, holding up a baggy full of tacos. "I had to make a taco run!" 
"And now, I'm going to PRESS THAT BUTTON!" He leaps into the air and slaps his palm down- 
-right next to the button on the console. "Damn! Critical fumble!" He falls down with a broken arm. "Someone get me a new D20! These dice suck!" 
He reaches up to the console and headbutts it several times, finally hitting the button. "There! Button hit! Multiple times!" 
"Why does it say 'Destruct' next to it, and why did I have to smash through plexiglass to hit it?"
Giant red buttons are not supposed to activate facility-wide death lasers. This much..Domino is acutely aware of. The odds of ..it's just..what?!
Definitely time to bring her A-Game to the dance.
One pipebomb is pulled from her combat webbing, jammed into one of the ports within the wall, then slammed home with a well placed kick before she's diving into motion, ducking and rolling passing lasers then springing up and flipping through more of them. The danger's everywhere, so long as she just..keeps..moving...
The suppressor gets diced in half at her side.
The strap for the launcher gets neatly clipped in two.
There's a moment in time where her eyes close, lost to the ministrations of her own X-Gene taking over, calling the shots before her conscious mind can keep up. Dancing with lasers is something she's done before. It's quite exhausting.
When those eyes open they also catch sight of Strilka up to the very same tactic. That girl... She's got moves.
Another twist through the air and Dom's combat boots launch off of a railing, limbs darting out through open air as those beams continue to shave close but never make contact. The next grenade thumps out of the drainpipe-sized barrel, darting across the room and connecting with one of those devices-turned-projectiles. With the explosion comes high velocity shrapnel, one piece embedding itself past a panel within the wall, interrupting the flow of power to the lasers. Deactivating them.
As feet touch ground the pipebomb goes up in a room-jarring blast, throwing a fresh spray of broken concrete into the room.
Billie's data device neatly drops down to the floor at Domino's feet, as if saying 'don't forget about me!'
Between Strilka and Domino, they sure are slowing the monstrosity down. The carnage they unleash matches that of the ever forming Master Mold prototype, but as more objects swarm through the tubes, it just keeps forming. Fortunately the lasers suddenly shut off, mere moments before one of them comes close to slicing Shift in half.
"SEEKING SATELLITE UNITS. ACTIVATING SENTINEL SUMMON PROTOCOL."
Looking up from the near-miss, Shift eyes the Sentinel head as it's collected by its swarming members and hefted onto what is now clearly a shoulder. "Oh, fuck you." He hefts the rifle, adjusts a small dial on its barrel to the maximum setting, and takes aim.
Here's hoping that Billie the Crisp's data-thievery survived electrocution. It's ripe for the picking, having been too hot to touch by Lunair, but probably cooled enough for Domino to snatch up. Lucky girl.
A chunk of Shift's shoulder is sucked into the gun, and a sizeable ball of plasma is spat out of the rifle. It blows right through the Sentinel's head, and the machine falls to its knees, half-completed arms flailing about. A few chunks of it fall to the ground, twitching and skipping about.
The red lights change, and a new siren comes to life.
Shift turns and looks over toward Deadpool, finally registering what the suddenly present merc says.
"It's gonna blow!" he shouts. "Grab everything you can and move out!" He snatches up a piece of disabled Master Mold machinery and throws the rifle over his shoulder. Just then, he winces and snarls a bit, as if wounded. Reaching out, grabs hold of a handrail and steadies himself, before muscling through the pain and moving for the catwalk.
"Move out! Move out!"
Yeah, the toe test seems wiser than grab 'n go. Nor is Lunair inclined to arm wrestle Domino over it. Poor Billy. Lunair will grab any little bits that look important, though... Destruct. Huh. "Wow, an honest sign." She seems quietly impressed. Either way, she starts- and pauses, offering Shift a hand. "Um, you look hurt." Poor guy. She'll follow him or Deadpool, depending on if Shift accepts help.
Strilka can sense the energy build up just by the hum it makes through the wires in the wall as soon as that button is... headbutted. The string of curses she lets out are thick and in her native tongue. (Though, when she runs out of Ukrainian expletives, she can always switch to German. German expletives always have the best gutturals.)
She scoops up what she can and hits a little button on her wrist to call the microbots back to her. Even as she's pelting for the egress, the come buzzing like june bugs through the smoke and debris.
All of those things that Domino had missed about working as a team? They're now placed aside within her mind as all of the reasons that she didn't miss the team dynamics start to return in force. She's barely aware of what's happening with everyone else. How they wound up in this situation. It would have been vastly different if she had run this op solo!
The damaged carbine drops across her back, swiping the data device from the floor before she sprints like mad for the stairs. (I am not dying down here, I am not dying down here...)
Another grenade shell is prepped in the launcher, this one meant to blast the hatch right off of its hinges before they can reach it. Launchers are wonderful devices for making timely exits!
What was Deadpool doing down here? What's a Master Mold? Who designed this bizarre facility out in freaking Ohio? There's too many questions. Hopefully one of their team happens to be in possession of the answer. Credit where credit's due, however. She owes Shift a drink for sacrificing his own shoulder to destroy that Sentinel's head.
There is a brief moment where Shift gives Lunair a grateful look. He takes her arm for help, gritting his teeth at the uncomfortable pain coming from his shoulder. The padding of his uniform hides what happened underneath, which is probably a good thing.
Up the stairs they go, one after the other. It's a damn good thing Strilka disabled the lasers in the stairway. They were on a different circuit, after all.
As soon as the group is halfway up the stairway, Shift retrieves a small comm device from one of his pouches. "Fire in the hole!" he announces, and presses the detonator.
Why?
Because for all they know, the place is about to go nuclear. Might as well put some destruction in the way.
The explosives placed by Lunair go off, collapsing the walls of the facility below. The stairwell is rocked, but its supported by Mother Earth. It'll stand, and though smoke and heat starts to chase them up the stairwell, they have enough time to escape before the real fireworks go off.
As soon as the team has emerged from the hatch, the ground shakes. Violent explosions erupt all around the circumference of the old rock quarry, spewing fire and plasma out into the valley below. The ground trembles beneath them, threatening to give way.
In fact, to Strilka's trained ears, if they don't get the hell out of dodge, they might all end up going down with the sinking ship.
Lunair smiles back to Shift at his grateful look. She won't press the issue, but she is going to help him. She stays with him then, watching as he presses the detonator. Her eyes widen a bit, and she hangs on to a rail or a wall with the arm not supporting the Shift. She winces, eyes widening. Right then, Lunair's gonna scoot like a walrus on a greased hockey rink. Moooooooove. Even though she's about as sheltered as they come, even she can figure out that this is Bad News(TM). She is determined not to end up a Darwin AWard Winner. And better here than Jersey. They could accidentally summon Cthulhu over there. But hey, team work is ... fun? Magic? ... painful.
"Gogogo!" Strilka snaps, pelting across the open ground toward the SUV, and possibly beyond. "Keep going! Sinkhole! Gogogo!" She does not stop running until she reaches that SUV, whereupon she slides Dukes of Hazard style across the hood and pops open the driver's side door. She's inside and reaching under the steering column for wires to hotwire the damned thing, yelling, "Keys!" to Shift as she goes. He's got the bum shoulder. He's not driving. At this point, given what she's seen, the only one she'll give the driving to, if not herself, is Domino. Domino's the only other sane person among them.
The wires connect and a spark flies the engine starts. "Never mind. Is good. Get in!" 
And as soon as everyone is in or at least somehow attached to the car, she guns the gas and takes off like a shot
(This is another fine mess you've gotten yourself into... Yeah, for fifteen grand, Domino. What's a little sprinting for that? You got to blow up some stuff. You got to shoot Deadpool. All it cost is the odd chance that your mug is now in some secret Sentinel mutant database so they know who the high priority targets are, and that's all fun and good, right?)
As the albino sprints from the smouldering hole in the ground the mangled remains of the hatch lands in the grass a good thirty feet away, popped like a cork on their way through.
Yet again..the Ukrainian comes through. Fast runner, good motivator, capable of hotwiring cars in fifteen seconds flat. (Where the hell did that lady get her training!)
Rather than waste time fumbling with doors and all of her gear flopping about Dom runs right up the front bumper, across the hood, then drops down onto the roof and grabs hold of the luggage rack bolted to the frame. One of her hands darts out and slaps the roof twice, signalling that she's good to go.
Just in case anything else comes flying through the air after them that needs to get shot out of the sky.
"Hope you drive half as good as you shoot!"
With a growl that borders on vicious, Shift fights to ignore the pain and picks up the pace, charging after the others. He could have just dropped the gun, but damnit, not only would Magneto be furious, he's not about to lose the very thing that wounded him!
Jumping into the passenger's seat, Shift rummages about for the keys. Of course, he left them in the SUV. There's no way he'd have just taken them with him, what with how hard it is to keep track of objects when he poofs to gas and back. Cursing in his own native tongue of Dangme, he rips open the glove box and grabs the keys, just as the car comes to life.
Whipping about, he checks to make sure Lunair is in. He'd make damned sure Strilka didn't leave without her!
Just in the nick of time, the ground behind the SUV collapses. The vehicle lurches, but the all wheel drive catches and it bursts free of the sinkhole, tearing off down the road. Behind them, the horizon glows with fire from below, and a cloud of dust and smoke rises in their wake.
"The next time I see Deadpool, I sweah to God, I'm going to blow his mutha fucking head off," he growls. "I don't care if it grows back." Breathing out a sigh to steady himself, he looks around the car with steely eyes. "Everyone alright?" He reaches up to tap the roof. "You okay up dere, Lady Luck?"
Lunair is talented in her own way. She's just young and - impressionable! She also overthinks it a bit, maybe. But she seems impressed by Shift and - dismisses her own gun. Just like that, as if it never existed. She will clamber into the car, like a ferret through a paper towel tube. "Thankyou." She blurts out. "And yeah, that seems cathartic for a lot of people." Lunair seems to like him, but she possesses the awareness that yes, shooting Deadpool in the face does seem to be a national sport. She blinks owlishly at Strilka. "Huh." Neat.
Yeahyeahyeah. Strilka waits until Lunair is in, too. No one gets left behind. 
Except Deadpool. To hell with Deadpool. He can find his own way out of the sink hole. 
She slams a foot down on the gas and throws the truck into gear as the earth starts shifting beneath the wheels. But, the treads grip and the vehicle lurches forward. Black pavement stretches out before them and she spares no speed ensuring it stretches out behind them, too. It's only as she looks into her rearview mirror and sees the plume of fire, smoke, and debris, that she grins, eyes gleaming.
Mutants: 1. Sentinels: 0. Score one for the good guys.
Behind an orange tinted eye shield, blue eyes grow wide. Sprawled out across her back, all Domino can see when she lifts her head is the very planet opening wide to try and swallow them whole. There's the edge of the SUV's roof, then nothing. Just..nothing.
"Must go faster must go faster..."
She doesn't remember to start breathing again until it's obvious that they're putting distance on the ever widening sinkhole, resulting in a spiky haired head thunking back against the roof. A few more times than anticipated. Fast speed, decaying road. Rough ride.
"Ow."
When Shift starts complaining about Deadpool she calls back "Didn't you just do that two minutes ago?" (Oh right, he dodged...) "Next time let Strilka do the shooting!"
A moment later she leans over the side of the roof, peering at Shift upside down through his window. She's covered in dust but looking no worse for wear. "Just peachy. Have my money ready by time I get out of the shower."
Category:Log