Logs:Doomed

Doomed
CN violence
Dramatis Personae DJ, Steve
In Absentia	2021-07-08 "So sayeth 'DOOM'."
Location <LTV> Doomstadt
Latveria is a small country -- so small even its capital and largest city probably looks quaint to a New Yorker. The streets are paved in white and the houses favor glazed terracotta roofs. Though there is plenty of foot and bicycle traffic, there are relatively few motorized vehicles to slow the progress of the supply truck wending its steady way up to Castle Doom, the seat of the Latverian government. In the back of said supply truck where, from dense cover beside a country road earlier DJ had neatly deposited them (hopefully) unobserved, Steve has tucked himself beside a crate. He's in his red, white, and blue tactical uniform -- no masked hood here, though his blue helmet has wings painted on either side -- with two matching pistols mounted in secure drop holsters on each hip, his shield slung across his back. He has his head bowed, lips moving in silent prayer while his left thumb taps each of his fingertips in turn. When the truck slows he looks up. Stalks to the back of the truck and peers out through the canvas flaps as he mounts his shield to his left forearm guard. Just before the truck comes to a full stop he glances to his teammate. Gives one quick nod before vaulting the tailgate to land in a crouch, scanning the castle courtyard. DJ is much less eye-catching than his teammate. No uniform here, just khakis and a green-trimmed grey polo shirt, both rather less crisp than they had been in New York. He's been silent on this ride, though not quite still, leg bouncing restlessly, hand tapping rapidly at his knee. Though Steve vaults out of the vehicle first, he lands before the other man, blinking into the air and then to the ground before Steve's boots have hit the ground. Castle Doom is almost like something you'd expect to see on a tourist brochure. It's a handsome structure, with white brickwork and reddish-gold parapets above; the truck itself arrives via a long bridge extending over a cliff that separates Doomstadt from the castle itself. Once through the bridge (which extends directly into the courtyard's main entrance), the truck slows... and the two intruders spring forth. Castle Doom's courtyard is -- perhaps unsurprisingly, on account of DJ's earlier recon -- sparsely populated and mostly unguarded. The truck that they've been inside of continues rumbling along, heading toward a small raised platform where an opening provides quick access to the castle's store-rooms; it will take some time for the truck to line its back-end up with the platform. Meanwhile, the two have plenty of time to scan their surroundings -- There's the raised platform itself, along with a service entrance besides that -- maybe 10 or 15 yards away. There's also the main entrance, to their right, at the far-end of the courtyard... a good 30 yards away. Two men dressed in Latveria's uniform -- muted greens with caps atop of their heads -- stand guard, rifles slung over their shoulders. Neither seem to notice the men that have sprung off the back of the truck. The men are talking in accented German -- if Steve or DJ strain, they can hear the edge of the conversation: "{--told me that that idiot was trying to build his own 'Iron Man' suit.}" "{Out of... a microwave?!}" "{Yes. We're not supposed to bring him any more appliances, for fear he might electrocute himself.}" "{Doesn't he... make electric cars, or something? Does he not know how electricity works?}" The other man shrugs. "{Americans.}" Steve pads quietly, almost casually, toward the guards, leaving DJ to his side of the plan. "{Hello there!}" he calls out, his clumsy German heavy with both French and American accents. "{Speaking of Americans -- terribly sorry to bother, but you can show me way to men's toilet, if you please?}" DJ is gone before Steve starts moving, vanishing from the courtyard in a barely-there blur of motion. His path through the castle is visible, but only just so, hard for human eyes to catch if not specifically looking for it, a ghostly flicker that is gone as soon as it appears. He stops only when he gets to the first -- cell? -- looking around with a touch of bemusement. A growing frown. A slightly disgruntled: "I'm here to -- rescue you." He doesn't wait for permission -- just a clap of his hand to the shoulder of his newly-discovered billionaire, who is now trading their plush surroundings for a stomach-churning whirlwind of a ride back out, jerky and disorienting until they are deposited quietly out of sight on the far side of the raised platform. Blip. DJ is gone again -- somewhere flitting back through the halls of Castle Doom in search of more Luxury Prey. Events unfold in rapid succession: Both the guards are continuing their conversation when Steve arrives; the manner in which they turn to face him is almost... casual, unconcerned -- certainly not the sort of rapid-fire anxiety you would expect of those on-guard for an assault. One lifts an eyebrow; the other steps forward, arm extending in a sort of 'you're-not-supposed-to-be-here-but-it's-fine' sort of gesture... but then their eyes seem to translate what they're seeing, finally transmitting the colors and appearance of his uniform to their heads. And suddenly... ...now both of them are on high alert, their rifles instantly snapping up -- the one who stepped forward immediately shouting, in German: "{Hands up! Hands up --}" "{--is that --}" The billionaire that DJ has rescued -- a rumpled man in his 40s, wearing an incredibly expensive (and incredibly poorly fitted) suit and tie -- blinks owlishly, struggling to understand what has just happened... a moment after DJ has disappeared. On his second run, he comes across a young woman pacing back and forth along a rug, dressed in a red dinner gown. She manages a yelp right before -- -- a towering figure of metal stands in the hallway, directly in DJ's path, hand raised -- a metallic voice thundering for just a moment, the half-uttered syllable lost in the blur of rapid-fire teleports as DJ leaves it behind -- whatever it was, though, it was clearly aware of DJ's presence. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Steve does not, in fact, put his hands up. "{You could only just say 'no',}" he comments lightly as he swings into action, sidesteps the line of fire and runs up the outer wall of the castle to drop down behind the guards. His shield slams hard toward the back of the nearer guard even as he aims a kick at the back of the other's knee. It seems impossible that he should know DJ has returned with one of the hostages already, but he speaks into the comm device in his helmet. "Big Bird, you are clear! LZ is behind that truck in the courtyard." "I'm with Captain America. We're getting you out of here." Once again, this is all the explanation -- or time -- DJ offers before he blips the young woman out through the hallways, depositing her neatly beside the first man and turning right back around. He does not stop for the towering figure en route to his next hostage -- but he does flick it, quick and light, atop its head. With a blip as swift as his own, the metal thing finds itself displaced -- just a few feet to the side, with an odd heavy crunch as it becomes enmeshed with the wall. DJ doesn't bother to tell the next rescuee what the situation is. Just -- yoink. The rifle in-hand goes off; a single shot that flares out and misses Steve by a good three feet -- right as he dashes up along the wall and descends down. One of the guards -- the one getting the brunt of the shield -- starts to spin, but he's far too slow; he crumples beneath the force of the blow that slams him into the ground. The other guard is stumbling, trying to bring his rifle to bare... only to collapse with a shocked cry as his knee gives out. An alarm goes off throughout the castle -- a shrill klaxon, repeating in pulses. As DJ blurs past the towering figure of steel, there's a dull crrrkt sound -- accompanied by a series of sparks. The figure slumps as DJ blinks past -- "This is Big Bird, on route -- that's a Roger, Rogers," the comm responds -- he's probably been holding that joke in for a few days, now. But a moment later, and: "Uh -- we're getting some chatter over here -- not ours, and it's in English. Sounds like --" As DJ grabs the next person without a word -- klaxons baring -- he catches a few curious details. The next guy he 'blips' out is holding a small, slim little communication device in hand, shouting into it. DJ doesn't catch everything he's saying, but at least manages to hear one word before a confused and disheveled Justin Hammer is delivered to the pick-up zone. "--DEPLOY--" Suddenly, there's a very loud explosion -- from the back of Castle Doom. And then... a lot of gunfire. Steve is in the process of punching the guard he just kicked to make sure they stay down when the explosion rocks Castle Doom. "What the heck?" he asks aloud as he turns toward the noise. "Copy that, Big Bird. Can you see what's happening over there? We could always do the more distractions, but I'd rather not be someone else's distraction." He sprints over to the small but growing knot of half-rescued hostages. "There's a jet on its way to pick you up. Please do as the pilot says and he'll deliver you to safety." By the time the explosion booms DJ is already back inside, one new and newly perplexed industrialist in tow. The gunfire arrests his progress very abruptly, though; he drops in an instant from the path he'd been skimming along the ceiling, tucked around a hallway corner with a slight pallor to his expression as he looks quickly over his cargo for signs of injury. "Sorry," he says, quiet -- maybe to the person he's trying to rescue, maybe to the team on his small earpiece. "Small hiccup here. Might have to find a -- different way out. Is one of our rich people trying to kill us? I think they might be trying to kill us." He's chancing a glance around the corner, hand dropping to the pouch he wears at his belt. "Eight men, looks like PMC." Big Bird's tone has lost the earlier joviality; it's all quick and sharp business, now. "Coming in for the pick-up." A rush of air swoops down through the courtyard as the slim, black Quinjet descends, hovering above. It's surprisingly quiet -- not silent, but certainly, you'd expect there'd be more noise involved in the process of making a rather large jet just... hover 50 feet up in the air. Soon enough, it lowers -- the back-end opening to reveal a cargo bay -- as it quickly touches down. A woman in kevlar emerges, rushing out to start moving the industrialists in -- inside the cargo bay, a small emergency response crew stand by, even though it's quickly becoming apparent that they won't be needed. Or at least... not needed yet. One of the hostages -- the disheveled Justin Hammer -- turns to Steve as he arrives, still holding the slim little communicator in his hand -- looking extremely dazed: "Captain...? Wait. Did -- are you part of my... extraction team?" he asks. Inside the building, a cloud of smoke and dust rushes out from farther down the hallway. DJ can see two armored personnel in sleek, black suits -- covered from head-to-toe, armed with extremely threatening-looking assault rifles. A third figure moves behind them... similarly armored, but with clunkier motions, its steps jerking about. Nearly 7 feet tall, its body-mass and shape imply that it might not actually be human. And then, from behind DJ -- a voice booms. Deep, rumbling, metallic -- low and hollow: "Doctor Allred, I presume. Touch me again at your own peril." Something hums around the figure. The industrialist in DJ's arms (an extremely confused, extremely panicked Elon Musk) manages a choked, raspy "what the fuck is going on?!". _ The front entrance to Castle Doom -- some 30 yards from Steve's current position -- bursts open. Striding through the doorway, each step descending with a heavy thump... is a man in armor. His steel face-plate is frozen in a perpetual scowl; his green hood and cloak are pinned to his immense shoulders by a flattened plate of gold. His eyes -- pure black, with pupils of moon-yellow -- focus first on the two guards on the ground... then, move on -- to Steve Rogers. "Captain Rogers," Doom booms. "Pray that my men still live." In that precise moment, both Doombots -- along with a third, deeper within the castle -- activate their internal suppression fields. A tingling sensation sweeps across DJ, along with any other mutants in the area of effect... as their powers are suppressed. Steve lifts two fingertips to the side of his helmet as if that would make DJ's question through the comm less perplexing. "What? Well, I wouldn't put it past --" Here he cuts off and stares daggers at Justin Hammer. "Extraction -- sir, I don't know who you think you are, but you need to call off your men. They're attack your actual rescuer." He ignores the CEO and pitches his voice lower for his communicator again. "Apparently one of them hired an extraction team. Are you hurt?" He cannot quite keep the tension out of this last question. His eyes snap to the armored figure, and he moves to put himself between it and the disoriented captains of industry, shield held neutral in front of him. "My mama brought me up better than to kill folks over something like this. Holding these people --" His right hand gestures vehemently at the half-rescued group behind him. "-- is liable to start a war. If you'll let us prevent that from happening, I've no quarrel with you." "How --" DJ starts, abruptly shifting in place to face the voice behind him. Cuts himself off short, his grip briefly returning, harder than before, to Musk's arm. "Didn't plan to touch -- you? I just want to get these people home. Don't need to ruin everyone's day over it." His eyes cut from one metallic figure -- to the other emerging from the cloud of dust -- to the panicked man beside him. His grip eases even as the rest of his posture tenses. In another lightning-blink he's moved again -- once more it is hard to track, but almost as soon as he's shimmered out of place one of the assault rifles seems simply vanished from one of the mercenaries' hands; where it has disappeared to is anyone's guess. His partner's rifle is, for a moment, aloft in the middle of the hallway. It doesn't get a chance to clatter to the ground -- it's in DJ's hands when he drops from the air with a heavy whump, eyes narrowed on the Doom who has been speaking. His breath sucks in hard through his teeth, chin lifting slightly. "Not -- yet." In the earpiece, his voice sounds -- considerably tighter than it was before. "I -- I think I might." "Wh -- I can't -- they're already --" Justin Hammer's face stiffens. He struggles between the two poles of denial versus the very real risk of his own life should this spiral any farther out of control. It's the latter that eventually wins out -- even as Steve turns away to speak through his comm, the CEO lifts the slim communicator to murmur: "Cancel that order. Cancel that order. I repeat, cancel that order..." SHIELD agents usher him into the back of the Quinjet. Meanwhile, the towering metal-clad brute that is 'DOCTOR DOOM' regards Captain Rogers through a mask of steel -- eyes burning like spotlights. His voice booms; a hollow, metallic bass... low enough to make glass shake. Simultaneously, the Doom that DJ encounters speaks -- perfectly synchronized. As they speak in tandem, both hold their ground: "Given your history, your presence here is... unexpected. Neither of you struck me as comrades of the bourgeoisie." Missing an assault-rifle, one of the members steps back, panicking and shouting into his comm as he pats himself down for his sidearm. The other one opens fire -- bullets whizzing above DJ's head, klink-klink-klink-ing against the monolithic DoomBot's frame. He hasn't seemed to put together that DJ's the one who snatched his comrade's gun, just yet. Meanwhile, the HammerBot charges -- each step producing a low WHUMP, its movement jerky and clumsy -- targeting Doom. But it's going to have to get past DJ to reach him -- unless he moves, it'll barrel right through him. Outside, Steve!Doom unfolds his arms... by his widening stance, it is likely clear that he intends to prevent Steve from entering the castle to support DJ. Divide and conquer. Steve's jaw tightens. "I'll take a few living fat cats over a lot of dead people -- your people among them." He lifts his shield slightly and glances at the reflection of the Quinjet in its concave inner surface. "Big Bird, get out of here with who you've got," he whispers urgently. "You can come back for the rest when we get them out of the castle." This said, he bursts into action, inhumanly fast. At first his attack looks like a straightforward charge with an eye to tackle, but he feints left as he nears his opponent and then suddenly drops to the ground, skipping between Doom's legs. In the process of rising he slams his shield into the back of one armored knee, but does not stick around to engage further. "I'm coming," he tells the comm, his breath quicker -- though not that quick. He clears the loading dock in one effortless leap and continues on toward the gunfire echoing from the bowels of the castle. "Not fond of them," DJ admits, a little jerky as he steps back and presses Musk back out of the path of the clumsy HammerBot as well. "Even less fond of war, which you might get if you don't let us get these folk home." His eyes sweep the hallway cursorily as he speaks, ticking rapidly from the strike team -- to Musk -- to Doom. His eyes narrow, slightly, his grip shifting on his stolen rifle. "...What do you know about my history?" Steve!Doom hardly seems to react to the feint -- though, for just a moment... the eyes seem to -- move? An instant later, and he's underneath Doom's legs, slamming the shield in the joints behind the knee. There's a crrrrkt -- Doom stomps forward, the armor producing a series of heavy clicks. For just a moment, he sinks down on one knee... but otherwise does not pursue Steve. Instead, he extends his arm -- holding it out toward the rising Quinjet. Inside, DJ!Doom is hit full-force by the charging HammerBot. The floor scrapes underneath his feet; he's forced back several inches, skidding -- immense gauntlets clamping down with a low whirring sound to grip the HammerBot's arms. He twists, flinging the HammerBot to the side... smashing it through a wall. The chassis cracks, metal splintering; DJ!Doom turns, extending one hand toward the approaching Hammer soldiers. Back to the Quinjet: "Understood, Rogers. We --" Their comm system cuts out. Steve has no way of knowing what's happening outside -- as the DoomBot outside holds its extended arm out... and the Quinjet's ascent halts... before it's slowly pulled back toward the ground... as if its engines are being forced to power down. "Enough to know that they do not deserve your protection," DJ!Doom responds. The Hammer mercs are apparently having some problems with their helmets. One of them screams, dropping to his knees, the rifle falling from his hands. The other falls to the ground, convulsing. Another explosion in the distance -- and another DoomBot appears, approaching from where the mercenaries entered... stepping over the convulsing body. Moving slowly toward DJ's position. "These are the men who will burn down the world." Then, the second approaching DoomBot speaks: "Surrender, and I will guarantee your safety." Steve is charging through the halls -- it won't be long before he'll reach DJ's position, where he'll see the Doombot looming over both DJ and Musk, 'monologueing'. "Big Bird?" Steve is frowning, but does not slow. "DJ, I think there's some kind of jamming, but the Quinjet is away for now." At the sound of the scream he puts on another burst of speed. Slams around a corner, running up onto the wall for a few steps, his eyes widen when they light on the Doombot bearing down on DJ and his panicking charge. "Get out of here!" Steve pulls the shield from his arm and flings it with all his might at the back of the Doombot's head. Doesn't slow down, though, on track to bodily tackle the giant figure, hand already outstretched to catch the shield on its rebound. "I'll keep him occupied." DJ is not getting out of there. It's only a regular human speed he moves at now, slinging the rifle by its strap over his shoulder as he sprints down the hall to drop to a knee by the convulsing mercenary. "What they deserve's in God's hand's, ultimately." His head is shaking as he tries to get the helmet off. "And all the people who'd die if our trigger-happy government decides to bomb you for this? What do they deserve? What's your end game here?" It's at that precise moment -- when Steve emerges in the hallway, flinging his shield at the DoomBot's neck -- that something seems to change. Given, it's hard to read the mood of someone fully clad in metal armor, but... wherein before, his motions have been slow, deliberate, and grandiose -- now they are precise and executed with frightful precision. The DoomBot spins -- almost impossibly fast -- as if it saw Steve coming. And that must be the case, as he extends a hand... and catches the shield. 'CLANG!' The tackle slams into him -- and, to Steve's credit, actually forces Doom back. But it's apparent after nearly two feet of skidding across stone that he's trying to tackle more than a man in a suit of armor... he's trying to tackle a 500+ pound machine. Steve can't immediately drop him, but he can push him. SKKKKRRRT. But then, there's a loud CRKT! from underneath Doom's ankles. Cracks spread out across the tilestone beneath him -- as his feet literally bolt to the floor. Using its newfound leverage, it proceeds to seize Steve by the throat -- shield in its other hand -- and turn, slamming him down against the ground. 'THWWWNK!' The gauntlet's grip tightens around his throat as he squeezes, preventing Steve from breathing... shield held tight in his grip. As DJ rushes to the man, he finds the helmet difficult to force off -- until he finds an emergency release hatch. Once removed, he's confronted with a man undergoing some sort of grand mal seizure. The helmet's interior HUD is briefly visible; it flashes with violently powerful bursts of strobing light. The Doom that approached from the other side is now standing near DJ, his hand extended. Plates along the gauntlet's forearm slide back and extend outward, forming a circular 'lip' around the circumference of that forearm... as if the arm is now protruding from the middle of a small satellite dish. The 'dish' idly thrums. Wum-wum-wum... _ When he speaks, his voice is different. The same pitch, but less... grandiose. As if several 'filters' have just been flipped off -- almost smaller, in a way: "...interesting." Then, in the more familiar, more booming tone: "Surrender -- and I give you my word that you shall both live long enough to see it. So sayeth 'DOOM'."