Logs:Minions

Minions
Dramatis Personae B, Erik, Heather, Regan, Xavier
In Absentia	2022-04-09 "Everyone is -- Very eager to meet you."
Location <NY> HAMMER Black Site - Visitor Center
This nondescript facility is far from just about everything in the pine barrens of northwestern Suffolk County. There isn't much to it, really, just a couple of beige prefab buildings, a garage connecting them, and a lot of empty ground between these and the tall razor wire-topped fence with the familiar "US GOV'T PROPERTY NO TRESPASSING" signs. Visitors are placed inside a repurposed conference trailer; Erik Lensherr (aka Magneto) has already been brought here, the initial prep work for his visit going through its final touches. A single guard is posted inside the trailer, with two more outside. All in all, the visitation center is significantly smaller than the main site, comprised of only six trailers in all -- with a few trucks and a small defense force posted. Shortly after Magneto's arrival... something comes up. There's a knock on the door; the soldier opens it, peeks outside -- speaks with the others in a hushed voice -- then throws a glance back at Lensherr, scowling: "Stay here." He steps outside, their conversation continuing, muffled through the trailer wall. Magneto is left alone. Outside the trailer, the soldier confers with the other two -- something's clearly going up, though they're not sure what. Radio contact with the other facility has gone suspiciously quiet. "Probably some training exercise bullshit," one of the three mutters. "Fuckin' hell, why's it gotta be today of all days...?" Erik, in his prison uniform, is unpacking the glass and ceramic chess set he's been allowed to bring with him, setting up a game in progress. King, queen, knight, rook -- he looks up, blinks at the guard in an owlish, harmless old man way. "Where else would I be going?" He stays still when the guard leaves, listening to the muttering outside the door, before resuming setting up the game -- though the white queen is replaced with a pawn after a moment's thought, and the queen is tucked into his sleeve. Whatever disturbance has riled up the guards, here, at least, it's absolutely quiet. Regan seems very unconcerned with being noticed as she strolls up toward the trailer, comfortable in jeans and tall boots and a black v-neck sweater over her red blouse. The blanket of illusion that obscures her approach is not flashy -- just imposing on the guards' minds that her team simply is not there. A small metallic dragonfly descends from the sky to light on her shoulder, and it's not long after that that the door unlocks. Evidently unhurried, she holds it open for her much faster teammate. Heather is dressed in rather less eye-catching clothes than she would normally wear, in a plain outfit that matches with the colours of the guards at the facility. She has on a canvas backpack with multiple pockets, and then another couple of pockets hanging off of a belt. She nods her head in acknowledgement as she speeds on through the door that is opened for her. She moves to a position up against the wall, to avoid collision with any lingering staff. The three guards outside the trailer don't even react to the presence of Regan and Heather, their confusion continuing unabated: "...much longer till we're done with this?" -- "...dunno, these things usually only last an hour, then we gotta process him..." -- "...is even going on? Anybody just try -- texting them?" In fact, one of the guards, in an unconscious gesture, almost... steps aside, as if to absently give Heather and Regan the space they need to step through the trailer's entrance...! There isn't any staff inside -- just Erik, who seems to have been expecting someone, or possibly something, else. His grip on the piece in his hand tightens when his eyes land on the speedy stranger, relaxing only minutely when he spots Regan through the open door. "You've been recruiting," he says, at last moving to join them. "I take it that's why this has been so delayed?" Regan just dips her head in a small nod, still holding the door open -- though now for their exit. "The world has been changing a lot, the past few years," she replies evenly. "We've had to expand quite a bit to keep up. Everyone is --" The beat of hesitation here is small. "Very eager to meet you." "I brought your hat," says Heather's recorder as she removes the backpack, and pulls said helmet out wrapped up in a cape which, though recently ironed, is a bit ruffled from the mode of transportation. Her expression remains inscrutable behind the black reflective lenses of her goggles. "It is nice to meet you. I like chess too." She gestures vaguely towards the set and then, once relieved off her meeting gift, zips back out through the door. Erik takes the helmet and cape with an amused smile. “She is fascinating,” he comments to Regan after Heather has zoomed off, dropping the helmet onto his head. The cape gets a moment’s consideration before he fastens it on. “Wherever did you find her?” Magneto steps out to join both women, stealing a holstered pistol from an unseeing guard. Dressed impeccably in a navy three-piece suit, with a red hardbound copy of Selected Stories of Sholom Aleichem in his lap, Professor Charles Xavier has been working his way methodically through security, bored and as much on autopilot as the COs who know him well by now. One of the guards is wheeling his metal-free chair out to replace the powered (and rather metal-ful) one when his head snaps abruptly in the direction of Magneto's holding cell. His telepathic awareness spreads out, rapid if graceless, to see through the eyes of the guards, his focus mostly on those with a view -- visual or electronic -- to the man he had come here to visit. Through Xavier's telepathic link to the soldier, nothing seems particularly strange or off-putting -- Regan's illusion holds. But that lasts for only a moment, because now, amidst the center of the trailers -- there's a dull buzzing sound, followed by a pulse of light, and then -- FWOOM. Four figures stand at the center of the camp -- a short man in glasses and a suit ('Scrambler'), a tall, lanky man in a military uniform ('Harpoon'), and another man in a military uniform with a shock of bright white hair ('Riptide'). Behind the three of them, another man, bald-headed, looking rather nervous -- mumbling something about 'checking on the others' -- before immediately vanishing in another flash of light ('Vanisher'). The moment Scrambler arrives, he scrunches his eyebrows... and suddenly, all telepath-sensitive people become aware of a strikingly sharp, confusing buzzing filling the air, rendering psionic abilities... not impossible, but significantly reduced -- like they have to fight through a static-like soup to push through. Whether Regan's illusion holds for the soldiers besides them (they look briefly confused, but not immediately noticing her and the others) -- it's no longer holding for anyone outside their immediate range. In the distance, a soldier near another set of trailers points at them, shouting -- Magneto in his helm makes a pretty obvious target. Harpoon and Riptide turn, moving in fast. Meanwhile, Scrambler steps back, slowly making his way to cover... rubbing his forehead and grimacing. "Fighting very patriotic Nazis in lower Manhattan." Regan waits for Magneto to obtain himself a sidearm before continuing out past the guards. "Our ride is just --" Here she cuts off, lips compressing and eyes narrowed when Xavier comes into view. Her hand drops to the gun at her hip, though she doesn't draw it -- -- until the four new figures come into view. Her brief flinch is noticeable, eyes screwing up in discomfort at the unheard buzzing. She doesn't hesitate when the pair of newcomers start charging them, lifting her pistol and firing two quick shots at Harpoon. To -- nobody apparent, she's saying, calm: "We might need an exit. How's it going with Ion?" "He's still busy," pipes back a voice from the metal dragonfly on Regan's shoulder. "Do y'all need backup?" Far out there's a distant glint in the air, two more of the drones rousing themselves from their truck past the gates. "Something weird going on with this connection." Heather's mouth presses into a fine line as these other figures suddenly appear, and her hand is instantly down in one of her pouches to retrieve a baseball. A bit of quick decision-making has her pitching it at Scrambler (her pitching form demonstrating how much she's been practicing!). She then blurs forward to tag Riptide with a super-speedy fist to the jaw. “Nothing ever changes.” Magneto is trailing just a half step behind Regan, but pauses when Charles wheels into view, pale face going paler when Regan goes for her gun. “That will not be necessary—“ he starting to say, but his attention is quickly drawn elsewhere, to the shouting soldiers, to the sudden teleporting arrivals. “I take it that is not backup.” In lieu of raising his gun, the helmet comes off again — leaving bare the rush of his thoughts, not at all calm underneath the careful demeanour he’s been showing out loud. << 'Get out' >> is broadcast loud, firm, the lower level thoughts (of powerlessness, of << who the hell is that are they yours >>, of fear [for himself, for Charles, for this new mutant he's only just met]) likely lost in the psionic static. “I hope,” he remarks, to both the dragonfly and to Regan, “that this plan accounts for my demagnetized condition. “ Charles is in the process of fumbling his phone from the inner pocket of his jacket when he flinches -- briefly, so briefly -- at Scrambler's static. With the helmet off, Erik catches through the noise << -- is wrong with you why are you taking that off you're going to get yourself killed -- >> He sounds less angry than just flabbergasted, much louder than usual for the effort of cutting through the jamming. "Blast," he grumbles, actually to no one in particular, and brings the full weight of his attention to bear on Scrambler in an attempt to stop the interference. The instant that Regan points that gun toward Harpoon, Riptide lifts his arms and steps forward, his face splitting into a reckless grin... and when the bullets rush out, the air around him is filled with a slow, building whistle. The bullets have been yanked into an orbit around Riptide, spinning in a wild, frantic pace... an orbit that seems to extend wider and wider as Harpoon stumbles away, spitting out curses. A moment later, and Heather's baseball rushes by -- Riptide doesn't even see it, but the baseball is suddenly part of the very same orbit, now rapidly accelerating. The whistling sounds increase in pitch. Meanwhile, Scrambler grimaces briefly, both hands fluttering up to his forehead, a series of curses escaping him: "--shit, shit -- what the..." Despite the powerful clamping force crushing down in the region, Xavier's direct power, focused on him, is seeping through, and... that suppressive field of static wavers as Scrambler drops to one knee. As it starts to waver, Xavier's ability to exert force atop of him increases rapidly... causing a feedback loop. It isn't long before Scrambler's eyes are rolling back as he just -- drops unconscious on the ground, the suppressive field dropping in that very same instant. And in that same instant, the whistling sound has grown faster and faster, right before Riptide flings his arms forward -- releasing the orbit of the baseball and bullets. They launch toward the group of mutants -- the accuracy is a bit off, the baseball slamming into one of the trailers behind them with enough force to tear a sizable chunk out of it, leaving a smoldering crater... as for the bullets, one hits the ground in front of them, blasting up a puff of dirt -- and the other is heading straight for Magneto. Right before Heather slams into him -- launching Riptide back with a very loud CRNKT, taking one hell of a hit to the jaw. _ _ Harpoon, meanwhile, out of Riptide's range -- has lifted his hand, filled with a bright bolt of light -- which is being flung straight at Regan. Heather moved so fast he hasn't even noticed her, yet. "Yes, don't worry," Regan sounds just a touch distracted, "we weren't hinging this plan on your abilities." << ... also weren't hinging it on your conjugal visit being with the king of assimilation >> is sharper in her mind alone. Her jaw tightens the moment Scrambler drops and her telepathy snaps back into focus. She's moving to push Magneto aside in just about the same instant that Riptide is flinging his bullet -- which would put her right in its path. Its solid thud against her chest knocks her back, though there's no blood apparent. At roughly the same time her field of illusion is re-asserting itself decisively. This time it's far less subtle than before, the ground cracking and opening up below the guards and Marauders to drop them into a deep -- deep moat. The drones that have risen from the truck are busily cutting a hole in the fence with bright repulsor beams. It leaves space for the truck parked beyond to drive forward, entirely careless of the deep pits of water that have seemingly opened up around them. There is not, apparently, anyone at its helm, but it stops neatly short of the Brothers all the same. The drones themselves haven't followed -- they're moving towards the entrance where Charles has been arriving, humming quiet as they hover almost expectantly. "He good?" chirps the dragonfly. While Heather's exact thoughts might be hard to parse, her feeling of indignation at having her baseball knocked off of what would have been a perfect strike is overwhelmingly obvious. She crouches down and throws a few loose pieces of gravel into Riptide's orbit, and then starts to furiously slap at his face until she can see the orbit subside. Without the scrambling effect in the air, Erik’s thoughts are clear to anyone who can hear them: snips of a conversation across the courtyard << —get myself killed telepathy cannot stop a bullet are they yours? >> broadcasting loud across the courtyard, the frustration barely masking the helpless rushing fear underneath, barely covering the surging memories of another escape a lifetime ago, bullets ringing out over screams in a far away forest. Doesn’t seem to notice the bullets here and now until Regan has already shoved him aside — and now there is anger mixed in the fear, << how dare they >> and a stretch of senses that should, but aren’t, available to him. He shoots twice at Harpoon before turning his attention to the dragonfly, to the drones hovering around Charles. Only now does the helmet return to Magneto’s head, lips pressing into a thin line. “Take out the chair. Leave him alive.” With Scrambler disposed of, Charles has finally gotten his phone out, his thumb poised over the panic button. << Mind your manners, young lady, >> comes sharp and irritated to Regan then, to Erik, << Of course they're not mine, and the only minions here liable to shoot me are yours, lest you forget. I need to talk to you about -- >> This breaks off as he narrows his eyes at the drone. << Why on earth -- (knew I was going to regret this) -- do you suppose I'm going to chase you down in a bloody wheelch -- >> is about as far as he gets before the helmet blocks him out. He sets his jaw hard and stares into the nearest drone's camera. Meanwhile, it only takes one or two slaps from Heather to take Riptide out completely. As for Harpoon -- Magneto's gunshots manage to drop him, but right now he and several other of the soldiers on-base are collapsing to the ground as they're subsumed by the collective illusion of the earth opening beneath them to swallow them, prompting several screams (and one soldier to uselessly fire his rifle into the air, the illusion convincing him that Magneto and friends are far higher up than they actually are). Harpoon's blades of light slam into the trailer to the left of Magneto, before evaporating into waves of light. Finally, someone's sounding the alarm in the facility -- not an electronic one, but an old-style klaxon someone's gotten hold of. Not much good it's going to do, though. Regan yanks open the nearer two doors of the SUV when it pulls up by them. Her eyes don't quite roll at Xavier's chiding, but it's perhaps only annoyance at reinforcing the Young Lady epithet that keeps them from doing so. << who are they, then? >> is not directed at anyone, just a passing confusion about the Marauders that she isn't dwelling on. "Everybody in." She's getting into the driver's seat, ignoring the screams as the water in the illusory moats rises higher. The nearest drone stares right back at Xavier, it's camera eye blank and inscrutable. Its companion is buzzing lower, quick-precise repulsor blasts taking out the wheels of both the metal and non-metal chairs, as well as the motor on the power chair. "I could make him such a better one anyway," the dragonfly by Regan is lamenting, as all the drones swoop over to join the vehicle. Heather is up on her feet in an instant after her test gravel tumbles down to the ground. She reaches for one of her pockets again, but her fingers just twitch as she aborts the action. She takes a second to assess, and her own confusion at the nature and origin of these superpowered individuals is easy to determine. She dashes over to the SUV, and gets in the shotgun position, having the luxury of extra time to do so. Her lips downturn into a slight frown. Once she has buckled in, her recorder plays: "We will need to update our data." And then she turns back to look over her shoulder at Magneto. "Your patience is appreciated. Let's return you home."