ArchivedLogs:Tick, Tick, Boom

Tick, Tick, Boom
Dramatis Personae Ash, Hive, Jason, Jax, Jim, Mirror, Ryan, Sage, Benjamin, Flicker, Joshua
In Absentia	2014-07-23 Well, that went well.
Location Prometheus facility, Vermont
It's almost /alarmingly/ pretty up here -- an expansive view of the verdant forest-covered mountains rolling off all around them, dips of valley and distant higher peaks, a stoney building tucked up against one side of a winding road -- its large glass windows command a good view of the world around it. There are birds chirruping in the nearby trees. Sunshine sparkle-dancing off a creek that curls around the yard. Idyllic, really. Tranquil. Out on the lawn a young man in khakis and grey button-down (labcoat abandone on a picnic table back closer to the building) is having a smoke break. There's not even so much as a fence to bar any approach. Joshua is eying this charming little stone building with a faint skepticism. "We sure we got the right place? I don't want to crash some -- /mountain/ resort for rich New Englanders." Behind him Flicker is in matching X-Man uniform (though his has one empty sleeve pinned in out of the way) -- making their way /not/ up the road in the vehicles but through a small copse of trees, vehicles parked out of /sight/ around the bend. His eyes close briefly at some unheard mental commentary, a small shiver running through him. A moment later Hive actually speaks to the /rest/ of the team, the telepath's quiet mental voice slipping into their heads -- softer than his usual hammer-heavy thud but there's a sharpness to his /tone/: << Fuck you. Do your damn job. >> He /might/ be slightly on edge. << Hive -- keep everyone together, alright? We'll need you for a little bit to tell where each /other/ are. >> This is because as the woods taper off into lawn, the team is starting to /fade/ out of visibility one by one, blurring and then vanishing entirely. Though /hopefully/ with Hive's help still able to navigate without bumping /into/ each other by virtue of telepathic guidance -- because Jax very much wants to make sure that /this/ time of all times they make it to the building without notice. He's heading across the lawn, giving the smoking scientist a wide berth to instead lead the team around towards a back door. The trees along the route here had on occasion offered the quietest creak of /protesting/ greenwood as Jim sucked in ever more of their energy. The glut or power has given him a bright-rapid aura of liveliness, the crusty old bark of before replaced by something greener, sapling-springy and narrow-eyed. Or there was - it's all fading from visibility, and for now he's focusing on trying to gird up the grass of the lawn to keep it from shifting as much as possible beneath the feet of the moving team. << this is some Skyrim invisibility potion shit right here... >> Ash is hanging back in the rear, not necessarily guarding it just yet, but being ready to once they get inside. Despite this, he keeps looking over his shoulder in case some other vehicle or patrol group approaches. He looks over his shoulder until that looks funny, then glances down at the rest of him until the dirt covered kevlar starts to disappear as well, the thick material still requiring a little care so it doesn't make noise as he moves. He's quiet otherwise, listening with his ears and paying close attention to whatever thoughts happen to pop into his head that don't seem his. The smell of grass fills his nostrils as well as the tang of that cigarette. << Yeah well let's hope you're better at this than you are at Skyrim. >> Hive does as he's instructed -- the team's mental signatures are quietly tracked, relayed back to each other, a constant /awareness/ of their teammates even if they don't have the benefit of seeing each other. The back door, also helpfully, opens for them. The bespectacled woman, ID badge in hand, who opens it has juuust the slightest /vacant/ look about her eyes, a little unfocused as she opens the door -- politely, even! -- to admit the team and then heads back to her work. Before invisibility enveloped him in psionic camouflage, Ryan fronted the group of raiders, his form the first to vanish but also the first imperiled in its all black attire. He also hefts a large stereo styes on his shoulder, arm wrapped tight around it, volume dialed all the way down for the silence necessary for stealth. It's preparatory. For when things likely go south. At least he didn't bring along a guitar and cordless amplifier. Inside the door things look just as peaceful as outside. The walls painted in pale pastels with an eclectic assortment of artwork -- kind of lack some of the /institutional/ feel other facilities have had. There are even helpful directions on the wall, placards informing people which way to the /dormitories/ and which way to the /solarium/ and which way to the library and which way to the /fitness center/ -- maybe they did accidentally raid a spa. But Sage's helpful monitor, once inside the building, is definitely picking /up/ the signatures of brainchips. Quite a few of them -- in the vicinity of two dozen, mostly in the dormitories one floor down and its nearby library, though a tiny few are on this floor. Taking in the sun, perhaps. Sage moves in the middle of the group of raiders, wearing her X-Man uniform and carrying some sort of..smartphone? in her left hand. She's constantly scanning her surroundings, even when the invisibility kicks in. Sage is paying close attention to the brainchips on her monitor, for when she has to react. Benjamin is more towards the front, looking rather ill-fitting for a raid with a black hoodie and a pair of jeans on, a kevlar vest possibly the only protection, until one realizes all of this will be destroyed rather quickly. His senses are tight, nose sniffing around for basically anything that would be good to know about. Hive is picking up those mental signatures even as the actual /technology/ picks up the digital ones. Just like the rest, information gets relayed to the team; the locations of all the labrats in the facility that he can find. Though unlike most raids, today he -- refrains from actually /hiving/ them all. Just in case. << Not yet, >> Jax's quiet mental command comes back. << We'll move once Sage has the chips in check. >> << -- Till then we just hang out in the /sunroom/ and enjoy the view? >> Joshua might be sounding just a touch cranky now. << How come /I/ did get the lab with a spa? >> << My lab had a spa. And an indoor pool. It was like a google headquarters. There were even nap pods station out for us to use, and once a year they //paid// us to work on independent projects. Free babysitting too, if you had kids. And oh //man//, the company retreats. >> Lies, all lies, woven with so much snark from Ryan. Who is particularly chipper, actually /waltzing/ into the sunroom with his boombox, pausing to bask unseen in all that glorious light. << Wonder if this one has tanning beds. I'm kind of pale. >> Somewhere among the invisible crew there is a /second/ Joshua -- though Mirror's mental voice is distinct from Joshua's snarkier one in that ze is quieter, less sardonic, more just thoughtful right now. << Yes. Enjoy the view, >> Mirror!Joshua answers actual!Joshua in the mental airwaves. << It's what I'm here for, anyway. >> Though mental connotation fleshes /out/ this statement -- with a videocamera at the ready, the reporter is here to /observe/. Enjoy -- may be a touch of overstatement. << My lab had... >> Ze has to pause a while, sift through /Joshua's/ lab memories to find hir own. << Mostly torture. Decent food, though. >> << Do you think... this'll be a lab of willing victims? >> Ash's mind flashes back to the few that capitulated in his lab, played nice, and got special treatment. There's also a horrified thought about lobotomy victims wandering around, harmless now, allowed things like sunlight and romps in the grass. Of course, any of this will make it harder to take them home. He starts to quell his thoughts and fears and settles into a quieter state, fingers rubbing against the cool stone strapped to his thigh as he finds some space in the hall where he's out of the way, watching. << I was in that lab with you, >> Jax's thick drawl answers Ryan's pack of lies. << I think you're misremembering. >> There's a beat of pause. << That pool was definitely /out/ on the patio with the tiki bar. >> For all the joking there's a wired knot of tension coiled through the photokinetic's thoughts that isn't /just/ from the strain of keeping the team unseen. His mind is flitting to Ash's question, flitting to their Rather Nice surroundings. Flitting to dreams of the future with a faint queasy unease. Meanwhile, Sage is quietly tapping at the remote, before her own mental voice pops up, calm and emotionless, almost robotic. << I believe I have it in check for now. We should be able to keep going. >>. Another few taps at the remote, << I do not believe willing victims would have bombs in their heads. >>. Sage's eyes turn around the room, scanning every nook and cranny, keeping out of the labs discussion due to not having been ine one herself. One beat, two beats, three beats of silence after Sage works her magic. Her device is still tracking, the chips' signal blocked and, though the chips still register to her remote as /present/, there's very little by way of activity for them. It's possible someone at Prometheus has /noticed/ the cutting-off of signal, though. Down the hall there's flutter of activity from one of the rooms -- which happens to be where a guard is /monitoring/ all this. But then still quiet. For a moment. Two seconds later an alarm is starting to blare. The chips, though -- just stay in faint quiet ping on Sage's radar, little blips that say the pack of labrats is definitively still alive. << Remind me why we /ever/ left, again? Oh yeah. Captivity's just so not rock and roll. >> Which seems to be the mantra for the day. Although Ryan has no sound to provide a backdrop for it, his inclination to /push/ feelings on others feeds a pump of adrenaline and mind-numbing alertness through Hive, for broadcasting. Jim hasn't much to offer; the sunlight passes through him, and he takes it with the singularly simple-plant appreciation of ready energy... but unlike simple-plant thought, it's rapid still. Deeply settled like an anchor, the altered state of nerves means the alarms do not make him jump. Only turn his head to look down the hall, pulse slowing with internalizing plantmatter. << Show time, kids. >> With his mind opening up to be spoonfed knowledge of where the stairs might be. Like a little MIND babybird. Cheep cheep. << /Guess/ that's our welcome. Sage, how're the labrats doing? >> It's a passing thought from Jax as he starts to lead the team towards the stairs to the dormitories. With the chips deactivated and the alarms blaring /anyway/, there's a small squad of tiny dragonfly robots slipping into the building -- though these don't stay with the team at all but whisk off somewhere intent on mission of their /own/. For Jax's part he's moving to the stairwell door, fading back into /visibility/ there because, convenient as it would /be/ to do the whole raid invisible, his brain would probably melt if he tried keeping this up for much /longer/. He's already looking just a little pale from the strain of sustaining invisibility for /everyone/ even this long. << C'mon. >> Could probably be /aloud/ now that he's in plain sight, but. << Bah. These people put things in your head when you are asleep. It's not like you know it's a bomb. >> Ash tenses first at the alarms and then at the jolt of adrenalin. He takes a quick visual headcount of those who are on their team and then looks back towards the exit, trying to keep a clear a path as possible. His hands slip down to the first set of stone discs and pulls them free of their straps, holding them at the ready. << Alive. Most likely not in the best of conditions, but most definitely alive. >>. Sage's voice comes back in rapidly, as she moves forward with the others, map popping up in her mind for the purpose of being shared with the others. Benjamin's own thoughts come through, << Tell me when. I'm ready. >>, hands on his neck as he anxiously looks around the corridor waiting for the guards. Mirror seems oddly calm in the face of the blaring alarm -- but then, Mirror /usually/ seems calm. In Joshua-form ze slips into place just behind Jax at the stairs, taking quiet mental /stock/ of hir current roster of abilities (Kate's otherpeople!healing, Spencer's teleportation -- and /Eric's/ own-self healing because ze wouldn't be a very /effective/ reporter if this raid /killed/ hir) which probably explains the calm. << I think this is /when/. >> "Seriously? With the /babysitter/? That's so...cliche." There's a break room somewhere in this warren and in that break room the shift's guards are...well...breaking. Sgt. Hopkins has just miserably confessed her suspicions to Cpl. Damon. Cpl. Damon is as delighted at the prospect for drama as she is appalled on her friend's behalf. Their squad leader is over there waiting for the fresh pot of joe to brew, while pinching the bridge of his nose and wondering if maybe, just maybe, he should take a sick day tomorrow, see his family doctor--these headaches, they've been getting worse, and he's starting to get worried. All this and more, on the next...As the Lab Turns. But the alarm puts a neat end to brewing drama and health worries. It's a little like kicking a very well-organized ant hill. Within seconds, the break room door slams open and the squad is pouring out. Elsewhere in the lab, other doors are also opening. Guards. So many guards, helmeted, armoured, and /armed/, with some bearing semiautomatics and others clutching modified pistols. Radios crackle to life and ear-pieces hiss with check-ins. "Beta squad, in position." "Gamma, moving." "Alpha, moving to perimeter." "Delta squad," says he of the forgotten headache, spearheading the team pounding down the solarium corridor in a tattoo of rapid bootfalls, "securing positi--Delta, intruders in B Wing!" Or intrud/er/, singular. Rifles come up, but by the time his squad has fanned out behind him, their leader has lifted his pistol and already begun to smoothly snap shots off at Jax. /Darts/. "They're never very welcom/ing/," Flicker grouses in answer to Jax at the sound of booted footfalls -- and, "/Fff/," comes with the teleporter's prompt disappearance. Reappearance-disappearance-reappearance; he's shifting in a rapid blur at the sound of the Delta Squad Leader's voice. One hand lands on Jax's shoulder, and the photokinetic disappears /with/ him. Not far, though. Just a foot or so away to zip out of the /immediate/ path of those darts and actually /into/ the stairwell to put -- for a few seconds more, at least -- its walls between them and the approaching guards. Down /in/ the actual cages, the imprisoned (/comfortably/ imprisoned?) labrats are getting a mental nudge. A quiet voice blossoming in their minds with what has become a pretty standard greeting for Hive: << You don't know me, but a team of mutants is on their way to get you out of here. If you'd /like/ to get out of here, please try and remain calm, and go with them when they come. Things are going to be getting a little crazy, but we'll try and keep you safe. >> The sounding of the alarm flags the switch echoed through, << Alright team, we're spotted. Jax, cover down. Switch to offense. >> For Ryan, this entails materialization: one rocker-celebrity with a radio balanced on one shoulder strolling down the hallway, a saboteur to any sonic communication. The vibrating alarm system converts to silence, as he casts his range wide, so subtly plucking away all the noise from any enemy-affiliated device. Like the radios -- those get cut-off. Usurping this with new feedback: his raid soundtrack, starting with a classic "We Will Rock You" as he turns the knob to increase his volume. Totally befuddles the approaching guards too. << Good enough for me. >>. Benjamin's mental voice comes back with a sort of /enthusiasm/, as he quickly seperates himself from the rest of the group. In seconds, his adrenaline is skyrocketing, as his bones begin to shift painfully as he turns into..something else. Giant demonic dog transformation done, Benjamin is /charging/ at the nearest guards he can see, so so many fangs in a 'sweet' smile as he prepares to use them to chomp up the guards, mist flowing from his body in an attempt to blind and obscure. Visible again, Jim is armored in thicker growths, one forearm a flat hardwood spade to serve as abbreviated shield. Branches spreading out like gnarled spider legs from bare arms and - yes, he is wearing a kilt to battle. Doing it OLD school. Standing between the offensive group and the group heading for the stairs - which he is also backing towards - the moving thicket creates just one more obstruction for the majority of darts. Just NOT DEALING with the fact that their team has THEME MUSIC for to raid by. Despite /everything/ Jax can't help the tiniest blossom of amusement in his mind, growing there at Ryan's choice of soundtrack. It's a short-lived mental smile, popped like a bubble at that first barrage of darts; there's a quiet scratching sound as one /hits/ in the moment before Flicker moves him to (oh-so-brief) safety though with thick X-Men uniform, thick /body/ armour beneath, he brushes this away kind of like an /irritation/ -- and pokes his head /back/ out to peer down the hall, a fierce-hot blast of light sent towards the hand of the squad leader shooting at them before Jim's thickets grow up to guard the team. << Yeah now is /definitely/ when. Ash, Jim, you can cover till everyone's down? Ryan, Joshua, Benjamin, help me on Flicker. >> Since the teleporter /tends/ to take the massive bulk of fire as he evacuates the labrats. << Sage, Mirror, stay close -- keep a good eye on those chips, Sage, if anything's /off/ -- >> Jax just stops there. Maybe not wanting to think /quite/ so much about what happens if anything /is/ off. He's heading down towards the dormitories, and the labrats tucked into their rooms down there. In one of the dorms, a sandy furred cat-like humanoid was laying on his bed when the alarms started to go off. His golden cat-like eye opened up and peered toward the door, as his tail twitched gently. The other eye then opens as he sat up slightly and just stared at the door. He had on a pair of jeans that sat down low in order to give the tail room, and he reached over to get his a tan underarmor sleeveless shirt off the dresser next to him, before he slipped it on. Those clawed fingers being careful as he did so and his bare feet walked deathly silent across the floor. Thankfully for many, this 'lab-rat' has calmed down, once he got over the horror he had become. At least in his mind the horror, but no one was sure what he could do-- not even himself.. or maybe they /did/ know, and they just haven't told him yet cause he /did/ need to calm down before he hurt someone.. or himself. So in this current time, he has calmed down just-- very confused on what is going on... That is when he heard a voice in his head and he narrowed his eyes, with his brows furrowing. "...you got to be kidding me.." He then paces a bit at the door in the realization of what is coming. The only question was-- what will he do when they do /get/ here... The labrats are still tucked away down there! Some of them respond with confusion, some with /elation/, some with an uncertain unease. Some with a fierce surge of /determination/ -- with reinforcements on the way they're gearing up to /join/ this fight and finally get free. If there was any doubt before about whether or not people were here voluntarily it's evident enough to Hive's senses -- though with most of the rooms equipped with suppression devices most of the labrats will have to wait to get /out/ before they can be any use fighting. Somewhere down there, one very /familiar/ mind responds to Hive's with a surge of relief, joy, /welcome/. Maybe a faint tinge of what-took-you-so-long. << Cover our asses, got it. >> Ash lets fly one then two of his stone discs, letting them bounce off the walls as if they were made of rubber, ricocheting down at gun hands, probably breaking fingers and hands as they smash hard against the weapons pointed at the team. He sticks close to the treeman-roommate, leaving his back toward him, trusting that side of him is safe. << Point me at anything worth smashing, too. >> Chaos! Confusion! /Teeth/! Delta squad...hesitates. Maybe it's the mist, or the sudden blast of music (and more) from Ryan but crucial seconds are lost. Then someone screams, as Benjamin finds his mark. After that, there is a great deal of shouting and the deafening roar of a rapid gunshots in close confines. "...--it's got me, it's fucking GOT me...!" "...can't see a goddamn thing!" "Delta squad, I repeat, intruders in--nngh I'm hit!" There's the squad leader, his hand snapping out as fingers curl and then spasm. The pistol is lost. But others still have /their/ guns--or some of them do, anyway, others swearing as bones crush and weaponry clatters to the ground. Cpl. Damon has hugged a wall and dropped to a knee, her weapon held firm against her shoulder. She can't see...she can't /see/ and it's fucking /chaos/ and oh to hell with it, her finger squeezes the trigger in three second bursts down the corridor. Behind her, hunkering low, Sgt. Hopkins steadies her dart pistol and likewise aims down the corridor. At /what/? She has no idea but she is silently praying she sees her lying, cheating, beloved husband again as she blindly fires--and then screams, as she feels her fingers shatter. The pistol dings off of Damon's helmet. Racing his way down to the lower level, Jax steels himself against the sounds from the corridor above, trusting in Jim and Ash to cover the worst of the barrage up there. For /his/ part he is starting to laser open the doors downstairs so that the labrats can get out, Flicker can get /in/, quick and dirty where he slices through the doors' latches to leave them open. There's a couple doors he gets through /before/ Jason's but eventually he is there, very /familiar/ from the bookstore even if the other man is not any longer recognizable to him. "You okay?" he checks in with the pacing feline, "If you want to get out of here, come with us." Flicker is quick behind Jax, blipping down to the basement -- avoiding the actual /rooms/ with their suppression fields but moving towards the labrats once they're /out/ of their cells. He disappears with the first one, but stops for the second, twitching briefly in unease. "-- I'm usually getting shot at a /lot/ more by now." His head tilts towards the stairwell, a small uncertain fidget to him before, regardless, he moves to talk to a nervous young boy about getting him out. Several bullets impact Benjamin, but nowhere that would impede his assault. Quickly thwipping his body and his large tail in order to knock down anyone right around him, a slow mental confirmation is made, << Yes. Protect. Okay. >> And then back to maiming and knocking out any remaining guards near him. Sage moves up after Jax, still watching her device intently, but she also draws her webgun as potential protection. << Roger that. Keeping a close eye on the remote at all times. >>. Sage turns towards Jason as they reach him, "We are here to help.". << I am getting no pings off him. >>, Sage is helpfully noting in case of importance. Big brutal blocks of sound, compacted into a vibrating wall of kinetic force shoves door after door open, siphoning off all available audio to foment the sheer impact of each attack. Voids of sound drift in and out, staccato chaos a-rhythmic as Ryan alternates between concussive blasts channeling his broadcast of his waning mantra into a next ballad of "I've Got a Feeling" drowning out the unpredictable sounds of human carnage and ensuing combat. Interspersed with all of this, he provides a much more calm void for the lab rats passing by, filtering out all the trauma of violence and immersing them in empathic calm, an almost psionic charm that invites amiability. << Things are quiet. >> Oh, the //irony//. << I mean, I'm the loudest one. Keep a tight watch on Flicker, and keep our front moving. >> Flicker usually /is/ getting shot at a lot more by now! But there doesn't seem to be a big /rush/ on the basement level just at the moment. For all the chaos and noise going on upstairs, down here where the labrats are actually locked up in their comfortably dorm-like rooms, it's just quiet. Mirror hangs slightly back, quiet, filming. Sage's remote is still not pinging -- at least, it's done its work in making sure no signals are getting through, no labrats are getting hijacked into attacking them. But -- some seven minutes after the remote first cut the chips /off/ there's a sudden brighter flicker of activity. They're /still/ not communicating with Prometheus's systems, admittedly -- just waking back up as though on a timer. And then blipping out. Tick-tick-tick. It's unceremonious, it sounds less like an /explosion/ and more just a quiet crack-pop. The labrat beside Flicker crumples. And another, and another. And there goes Damon, toppling over with a shout of pain as something goes boom in her left knee. With her compatriot slammed into the wall immediately following the loss of her pistol--and the use of her hands--their leader laid out flat thanks to Benjamin, and the rest milling in confusion courtesy of mist and Ryan's efforts, Delta squad seems handled. Alas, if only it were that easy. Behind the group, around the corner in the solarium--is that a snack bar?--there is a cheerful *ding*. Hello, Epsilon! Three blocky armoured guards, just the first of the squad to emerge, swing around the corner, drop to a knee and take aim at certain exposed backs. This bunch? Like well-oiled machines, they are. And they've switched to full auto. It takes them just a splitsecond to begin doing their best to mow these intruders /down/, man. When one of the Mutants comes to Jason's door the feline-humanoid was ready to strike, and it came with a quick punching motion, however it came short as he realized /just/ who he was looking at. That snarled fanged teeth display quickly became one of some realization, "You?! What are you..?" Those gold cat-like eyes peer over to the one who has a web gun. "Help?" He stares at Sage for a moment before his gaze looks side to side. He then takes a step back as he growls lowly. "They are the ones trying to do the helping." Yeah-- he is probably a /confused/ one. He looks ready to bolt by his body language and confused. That tail of his moving side to side rather quickly. His mind is-- very scrambled on what to do. Years of military training going right out the drain right now due to just sheer instinct wanting to override... Run or fight-- fight and run.. For a moment -- just a moment -- there's telepathic radio silence. It lasts through the crack-pop, the crumpling of bodies. When Hive speaks again, it's low and toneless. << There's only three left. Guys, get out. Get back upstairs /now/. >> Flicker is momentarily frozen among the wave of toppling bodies; it's only Hive's brute /force/ that shoves him back into motion, puppeting the teleporter to grab Matt, grab Jason, grab one small wide-eyed fluff-haired girl who is left among the dead. Teleporting with Flicker is kind of a /nausea/-inducing proposition, a rapid blurring shift of world that yanks Jason and the others from the quiet downstairs to deposit them up near the /door/ out. Ash growls as his armor takes impact from some of those hopeful 'lucky' shots sent out into the chaos, knocking him off his feet momentarily. He gasps as he gets to his feet, his movements shaky, but determined. One hand reaches out and grips Jim's shoulder hard as he starts flipping the catches on the rest of his discs, sending them whizzing into the solarium when the shooting starts from over there. He catches another bullet and drops to his knee, hand loosing its grip. He focuses on his volley instead of himself, wheezing as he grits his teeth. He's aiming midline on those damned guns and keeps whatever rocks and shards he can going after them for as long as he can, pulling himself weakly out of line of sight. The normally brilliant-bright planes of Jax's mindscape are shutting down into something dimmer and colder; there's a frozen moment where it seems like /he/ might need some forcible telepathic /shove/ before he moves, too. But he slowly works his legs back into order, face pale and a fierce swell of heat growing around him. << Fall back. Everyone. Get out. Now. >> /Actual/ Joshua is helping with this -- with nobody left to /rescue/, just turning his skills to the team to grab them -- though he takes a few /bullets/ thudding against his armour in the process -- and jump them far out to the vehicles. Hopefully whichever team members are left in the basement are listening to Hive and Jax's exhortions. Mirror is, at least, retreating -- a /little/ slowly but ze's got filming to do -- to the stairs just as there's kind of a /deeper/ creak. Crumble. Rumble. Some of the /rooms/ down there are definitively starting to cave in. Possibly the entirety of the dormitory wing won't be far behind. Jason finds himself wanting to charge one moment and the next he has been whisked away to another spot, which was jarring and he nearly falls over on himself. His claws on his hands try to cut into the ground just by how nauseous he suddenly feels in the teleported movement. Jason doesn't even have time to argue or even get his bearings as he is found himself being taken out and then shoved off into a vehicle. No real way to stay stop or even argue with the situation.. honestly-- after the teleportation, he doesn't exactly have the grounding to get in a fight. He'll-- figure this all out once he can get a knee. << Countermeasures? >>, Sage quickly pops back as the bodies fall, but at Hive's call, she's moving back up the stairs, close to Jax if he goes up as well. As Epsilon approaches, Benjamin /howls at them/, before moving rapidly to the side, sending all of his mist straight at them in an attempt to obscure their vision, before charging out to escape. Those labrats and raiders that flicker into the upstairs will find themselves on the other side of Team Sticks and Stones, where Jim and Ash defend the escape route from the remaining guards. The bullets impacting Jim earn only wooden THUNKS, heavy enough impacts to stagger him as he follows orders and begins also backing slowly towards the door. Though still squeezing off his own careful gunshots, he's not scooping an ARM around Ash so much as... a branch off one hip, for him to sink his weight down on. "Hang in there," he mutters grimly. And in mind... there's a deep echo of the same message, sent into the hive mind. Its center. "GO. OUT. MOVE." This is barked at any STRAGGLERS, like a dog chasing someone off ITS LAWN. BARK BARK BARK. Benjamin would understand. And so they end on the sad note of Les Miserables "Turning" -- because Ryan prepared a song to lament their defeat, playing over the wreckage and corpses as he evacuates the living, sad melancholy music a paradox in its empathic message: dullness, blunting the edges of pain and suffering, creating a blank space of feeling to insert calm in. Later. Once he reels back from the massive failure himself.