ArchivedLogs:Server Fault

From X-Men: rEvolution
Server Fault
Dramatis Personae

Anette, B, Dusk, Flicker, Goblin, Micah, Tag, Tian-shin

Monday, May 18, 2020


"You're not supposed to be here." (Part of Future Past TP.) (Warning: violent)

Location

<NYC> Oscorp Tower - Midtown East


The main entrance of Oscorp Tower is a sprawling space - the ceiling is five stories up, with balconies for various offices exposed to the lobby interior. The front desk is manned at all times by no less than three secretaries prepared to direct you where you need to go - or file an appointment with the appropriate manager. Two escalators flank the desk, extending up to a third story pantheon - where tour guides regularly take visitors through a variety of hotspots, including Oscorp's biology and engineering departments. Two elevators are set aside beside the escalators, with a third private elevator that is guarded at all times by a guard and requires a security card to access. The place is crawling with guards, all of whom are watching for the first sign of funny business.

Team Nerd has entered the Belly of the Beast.

Access to Oscorp Tower's basement is accomplished via a large, spacious, executive elevator; one designed specifically for use only for high-ranking members of Oscorp elite. That group largely includes only two people: Norman Osborn himself, and Lucien. Luckily, one of those two people are on Team Nerd's side... and the other person is -- thanks to a little schedule manipulation on Lucien's end -- currently dealing with a matter at the Osborn Institute, far away.

Considering what some of the team-members may have been told about Norman Osborn's... 'capabilities' -- that's probably something of a relief.

Nevertheless, that doesn't mean this mission is without it's dangers. The elevator reaches the bottom of the sub-basement levels -- the lowest of Oscorp's secret labs. The places where Norman Osborn keeps all his *personal* projects; his *favorite* toys. The doors make a delicate, pneumatic hiss... and a hallway is exposed. On both sides of the hallway, there are glass walls -- revealing rectangular rooms, each about 15 yards in depth, and 20 yards in width. Both rooms are accessible via keycard locked glass doors; the glass is tempered, designed to be bulletproof.

Behind the glass... experimental Sentinel drones are laid out, alongside Osbot drones -- many of them disassembled. All of them, it looks like, currently deactivated.

The main lights are out, leaving only auxiliary lights on -- casting the whole area in dark, muted reds. It gives the place a spooky feel... a feeling that's highlighted when Team Nerd notices that, on one of the tables -- covered in glittering, fish-like scales -- the massive form of a highly modified Mark 4 is laid out, partially 'dissected', its internal 'wiring' exposed.

Ahead of them -- past the two glass rooms on either side -- is a double-door -- solid metal. A sign above it conveniently proclaims: 'DATA-CENTER'.

There are other drones in the air -- not Osbots or Sentinels but a fleet of small humming insects, buzzing quietly down the hall. They're circling the shoulders of a tiny blue shark, dressed in stompy black boots and black cargo pants, a tight pink and grey running shirt. B has a tablet in hir hands and a worried frown on hir face. "There's like. Seventeen million Sentinels in this building. You guys are all aware, right? Seventeen /million/." Not that ze's nervous or anything. Hir gills are just rapidly fluttering for no reason at all as ze approaches the double doors.

Micah rather fits the theme of robotic parts on display, his own robotic legs visible beneath torn-off jeans that likely saw many, many better days before this. A dirty, faded-grey shirt that might once have been black covers most of his arms and torso, scars peeking out from sleeves and collar. His grey-streaked red hair is pulled back in a short ponytail to keep it out of his eyes, face gone just the slightest bit scruffy. A navy bag on his back is filled with additional supplies, a handgun in hand and at the ready. He might be sticking a little close to B where he can. Old habits. "That's...hopefully kinda the point of comin' here," he answers quietly. His eyes and ears are too busy taking in everything they can for more insightful commentary.

"Most of these look borked, at least." Tag is in a ragged t-shirt, bright despite its age with a tie-dye rainbow spiral, a TARDIS tumbling in the center, and black cargo pants with gold lightning bolts running down the outseams down to hot pink hiking boots. His brilliant rainbow hair is tied back with a purple bandana covered in silver vine patterns. He carries a yellow backpack emblazoned with a blue star of life. "I'd paint 'em all for good measure if I wasn't afraid of tripping some alarm...that we're probably gonna be tripping soon anyway, right?"

Dusk has his wings pulled in tight against his back. They're still painted, deep pitch black with talons in shining chrome and a shimmer of silver circuitry drawn across their membranes. The rest of him is in dark clothes, too; dark cargo pants, dark boots, dark wrap shirt. "Nah, the point is the servers in this room. I just want their memory. I could do without the actual bots." He has a tablet of his own, though at the moment his is just settled -- holstered! -- at his side. There is an Oscorp ID card -- not his own -- in one hand, and he wears the faintest note of worry as he approaches the door with B. "Luci said this'd get us in but I guess we're going to find out. Soon." He taps the card to the electronic lock. Hopefully. Maybe preemptively bracing just in case of alarm. Possibly he's been just a little braced this entire time.

Anette is sticking to the back of the group, much like the kid being dragged along shopping with her parents against her will. Still, she's prepared for anything that happen. Her hair is pulled back and she's dressed simply in a white tank-top tailored for her wings and black pants made to move in. Forgoing her usual coat, her wings are tucked in tightly to her body. A recent change however is the lack of hands: now she sports talons to match the wings and permanently bright yellow eyes, something that used to only occur under emotional stress. Still, she keeps her eyes open and quietly scans their surroundings, checking for any potential dangers which is really her only purpose here.

"I don't think they care about paint jobs." If Flicker is braced it's hard to tell. He looks remarkably relaxed. Calm, even. Kind of /ambling/ down the hallway in the rear of the group, eying the disassembled bots with a bland curiosity. "Still, probably not the time to test that theory."

Is it surprising that Dusk's key-card works? Maybe not -- the double-doors near the back of the hall promptly make a gentle 'clk' as he taps it against the appropriate console, and then -- ssssst! Just like Star Trek; they pull apart, revealing the interior of the next room. The next room, which is... a 'decontamination chamber'. Made of glass, it's approximately the size of the elevator they *just* stepped out of -- designed to carefully filter resident dust particles out of the air before anyone actually steps in. A few signs are posted, noting requirements for appropriate clothing, PPE, mentioning a ban on all electronic devices in the area -- through the glass of the decon chamber, they can see the server room beyond.

It's... a *big* room. Beyond massive. Easily the size of a gymnasium -- and every inch of its walls are *stacked* with data storage devices. Humming, silently; kept at room temperature, with filtration systems stationed along the ceilings and walls to keep them constantly clean. The center area is mostly clear, aside from a few tables set out with monitors and consoles for reviewing data.

Also? There are Sentinels.

A *lot* of Sentinels.

These appear different than the Sentinels they've encountered before; bright, sterile white, they resemble the Mark 3s, but sleeker in design. They're apparently used to interface, maintain, and handle the computer equipment -- built to produce very little static, with an energy-efficient design. There's over twenty of them, at the moment; all of them are just standing at attention, along the walls -- their eyes pulsing a gentle, pinkish-red.

There's one more important detail to note about the room. Sitting at its center -- at one of the consoles -- reviewing footage. There's a man. Middle-age, dressed in a sharp, black, expensive suit and tie -- a sort of hollow look in his eyes. As he looks up from the computer -- glancing up at the sound of hissing doors -- his expression shifts... from concentration, to surprise.

Norman Osborn *stares* at Dusk. And then, in a voice that's almost child-like, cracking and high-pitched:

"You're... you're not supposed to be here."

"/You're/ not supposed to be here." This is B's immediate counter-reaction. Not very quippy. Just a little wide-eyed, peeking out from behind Dusk's wing -- for all Micah might be trying to stay close, /she/ seems more interested in sticking close to Dusk's side than Micah's. Her drones are still humming quietly behind her -- though now a few of them are doing more than that, for all it can't really be seen by the /people/ around them. Reaching out to the Sentinels in the room, scanning for what signals they might be broadcasting. Working on generating their own friendly signals to send right back.

Tian-shin puts herself ahead of Tag and beside with Dusk as they enter the decon chamber. She wears a black tunic and trousers, both with red piping to match her red newsboy cap and the red bandana tied around her neck. She holds a Chinese longsword in her right hand, carried in a reverse grip to keep it out of the way in closer quarters with friendlies, another strapped across her back. In her other hand she carries a day-glo squirt gun--a mid-sized SuperSoaker, actually, and two more from her belt in holsters, the liquid in the reservoirs slosh when she moves. She drops into a fighting stance when she catches sight of Osborn, though he's quite beyond her reach. "Well. {Gan.}"

Dusk's wing curls out reflexively, wrapping around B in a protective hold. "This," he says wtih a frown, staring right back through the glass at Osborn, "is not Pennsylvania." His hand lifts, though. Hovering for a moment over the second lock panel, before he taps the key against it. "I don't suppose if we just. Asked politely. You'd go upstairs for a bit." His other wing is flexing, slightly.

Anette suddenly pauses, staring at Norman as he merely sits in his chair. She remains still but suddenly she's on high alert, wings tucked tight but talons stretched out beside her. She looks as if she's holding herself back. "Give the word...and I'll rip his throat out," she says with a rising anger, to everyone and no one in particular.

And then, the man that is known as Norman Osborn ceases to exist.

Physically, you couldn't tell the difference. Not at first. The man who's sitting in that chair is still wearing an expensive suit; he still has that ridiculous hair -- that hard chin -- those sunken eyes. But there's something *wrong* about him. B -- in fact, *anyone* with a particularly sharp sense of smell -- would pick it up quickly. His odor is *unnatural*. Like rotten eggs stewed in a pile of festering meat. That look of childish shock -- like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar -- is replaced with a grin so wide it seems to split his face in two. And his eyes... once, a handsome, rugged amber-gold -- are now... yellow. Bright, flourescent, *egg-yolk* yellow.

"Override: Goblin King."

His voice is a scratchy, shrill shriek; not at all the sort of voice that you'd expect a human to have. The moment it hits the Sentinels, their eyes go from bright pink to flourescent yellow -- matching the pigment of their Master. And then, with a gurgling, liquid giggle that surges up from the pit of Not!Osborn's throat...

"Sentinel drones. Attack anything alive that isn't green."

The friendly signals that B's drones are locking in on suddenly cut off; every Sentinel in the room promptly goes into manual command mode -- swiveling about like soldiers that have just received their marching orders. And as for Not!Osborn...

His skin is turning green. And he's *swelling*, his suit starting to split at the seams... while his eyes burn like torches. Patches of the suit sink 'in', as mouths -- lined with razor-sharp fangs -- begin opening over his body... tentacles tearing their way out of his arms, his shoulders... and a massive set of perverse, crooked, non-functional bat-like *WINGS* begin to surge out of his back and spine.

The second door emits a gentle 'ping' as Dusk taps the card against it. There's a soft hsssss, and -- both glass doors open.

Shrieking, cackling, squealing, high-pitched laughter: "GO AHEAD. RIP MY THROAT OUT. I'LL JUST EAT YOURS."

It's possible Flicker has been /apprised/ of Norman's peculiarities. Or it's possible he just doesn't show /stress/ in typical ways; at any rate, this change doesn't seem to startle him so much as snap him into a sudden methodical motion. Sudden blips of motion to move forward, pull Dusk and B away from the door in a heartbeat. For a second he glances to Dusk's wings, and then, oddly calmly, just under his breath as he sets them down by Tag: "... Tag. How's about you give us /all/ a new paint job, huh? Might want to make him -- purple. While you're at it."

Micah stands gun-ready, primary objective still to guard B and Dusk while they try to do their thing. Having less split attention can be a significant boon. His eyes dart over the robots, to Osborn, and back. His teeth clench as Dusk reaches for the lock panel. Then there is a horror-creature on the other side of the door...which is now open. Yay. But his shot is clear. While he hopes that it will do something, he is /not/ optimistic as he sights the.../whatever/ that is. He attempts to maintain some cover behind the door's frame, tense-readied, just waiting for the outcome of Tag's response.

Tag /also/ drops into a fighting stance, though he stays behind Tian-shin, maintaining his line of sight into the next room. His magenta eyes widen at Osborn's transformation. Then he adds to it, a splash of white that for all the world looks like the result of an invisible paint bucket getting upended over him. He doesn't look at Flicker, but his smile flashes quick at the suggestion. The white consuming Goblin's body promptly changes to royal purple, and the Sentinels one by one turn solid lavender in a sweeping wave from left to right. "This one," Dusk assures Anette through gritted teeth, dark eyes wider at Norman's transformation, "you can sure as hell feel free to kill the /fuck/ out of." There's an unspoken: ... if you can, that makes it into his edged tone even if he doesn't speak it aloud. One talon nudges Tag lightly in the shoulder. The other wing stays firmly around B, his hand dropping (just as protectively) to rest against his tablet. "We gotta get /in/ there, man." He's maybe looking as much at the room packed full of Sentinels as he is at Goblin. "Little help?"

An electric hum emerges from each Sentinel drone; small 'plates' extend from their hips, their legs, and their palms -- B's hoverboard technology, put to villainous use. They're instantly levitating off the ground, humming and *charging* in tandem with the Goblin -- who's rushing forward too, now on all fours -- now on all *sixes*, ohGod when did he grow extra legs -- just as Tag's color swathe hits them all in a row. The flash of color goes unnoticed, for a moment, by the Goblin...

...but not by the Sentinels. Like a pack of wolves, their heads swivel in tandem, their yellow eyes flashing as they lock on the new and improved Not-Green Goblin -- and proceed to *hurtle* themselves at him, their arms extending for him. At least six leap upon him in the first instance; it's like watching a tribe of hyenas spring after a dinosaur. Suddenly, Goblin is smashing into the ground, skidding toward the Decon Chamber as he shrieks -- the Sentinel drones' hands flare as bolts of electricity arc through their fingers, channeling burst after burst of electricity into the Goblin's form. Several of them sprout blades along their arms and elbows, *tearing* chunks into his body -- greenish-purple blood emerging, splurting across the floor.

The Goblin's forward momentum doesn't stop, though. He slides right into that Decon Chamber -- with enough force to smash into the doors, into the glass -- and crumple it all, buckling in an explosion of glass that fills the hall. One massive, mishapen arm *rips* forward, claws sprouting along its length as it extends out for anything, anyone it can reach -- Tian-shin looks particularly delicious, maybe he'll try ripping into *HER*.

Meanwhile, several mouths are shrieking in anguish -- but also attempting (in a very uncoordinated way) to issue commands: "OVERRIDE! OVERRIDE! STAND DOWN! STAND DOWN!" The command is filtering through; the Sentinels are beginning to 'unlatch' from Goblin. But it's a painful, flesh-tearing process.

"Good enough for me," Anette says, squeezing her way to the front of the group just in time to see Goblin slam into the decon glass. She quickly ducks her head and covers her eyes in the onslaught of glass shards. Once she deems it safe to look up, she catches sight of the arm making its way towards Tian-Shin. "Not a chance," she growls, reaching out a claw of her own to tear it away from Tian, not really caring much of the talons embed themselves in his flesh.

"Working on it..." Tag's voice is quiet and ever so slightly strained. He pivots on one foot, eyes seemingly unfocused but flicking rapidly between his companions, whose clothing, hair, and skin take on myriad shades of vivid living green. Even B's drones come out of this sweep glossy green. Facing forward again, he singles out anything that even remotely looks like an as yet un-painted-over /eye/ on the Goblin and covers it a big black cartoonish 'X.'

"{Thanks.}" B stretches up onto hir toes, pecking Tag lightly on the cheek. After this ze is eying the bots crawling over Goblin warily -- but not joining in any of this. Instead ze tugs at one edge of Dusk's wing, pressing hirself into it at that shower of glass and then skittering -- very much to the /side/, away from the charging Goblin and into the mess he left in his wake to venture deeper into the server room. Evidently the others can fend with Monster. Hir drones are following after hir to scurry further into the stacks.

Tian-shin put up and arm to shield her face from the shower of debris, and leaps back, her sword flashing down to fend off the flailing, Akira-esque limb reaching. Annette's timely intervention, however, allows her to focus her real attack. This latter does not have an immediate visible effect, being aimed at the water in her opponent's ichorous blood, separating it out into oxygen and hydrogen...while still inside his body.

"Flicker, can you get 'em where they need to be?" Micah calls back as Dusk asks for help. There is plenty of Goblin to aim at, the only real trouble being finding spots that look sensitive and making sure not to catch friendlies in the line of fire. Then the decon room is crashing...crushing... The power in his robotic legs is /needed/ to propel him out of the way of debris and oncoming monster.

The Sentinels are all standing down, now; stepping back and away from Goblin as Goblin just... *gnaws* on the doorway, chewing and chomping at the portal, metal starting to buckle under the relentless pressure. Anette's claws catch thick, twisted meat -- shaving through it, carving a bloody, gruesome path that produces shrieks of agony -- slicing off a firm chunk of Goblinsteak to the floor. The arm retracts; egg-yellow eyes are blotched out with X-marks, blinding the Goblin -- though he's rapidly producing more, 'popping' out of his twisting, amorphous body like bubbles in a bath -- old, 'blinded' eyes being literally *devoured* by mouths which appear behind them, chomping down and eating them... cannibalizing himself for spare parts.

The doorway creaks and *snaps*; the Goblin's body -- easily the size of a small semi-truck -- is beginning to lumber into the hallway, more tentacles emerging -- snaking out with snarling, barbed claws. But that's when Tian-shin's attack hits -- and suddenly, those tentacles *twist*, writhing and becoming discolored, curling back in on themselves -- an inhuman shriek of anguish filling the room, dozens of mouths popping open and *screeching*. Two tentacles literally *explode*, fizzing greenish-blue blood splurting in thick squirts across the floor and walls -- while three more lunge out, attacking chaotically at random -- the barbed limbs slashing for Anette, Dusk, and Tag, almost *blindly*.

Meanwhile, mouths that aren't screaming are trying to issue confused orders: "ATTACK... ANGhhhg... ATTACK THINGS THAT ARE -- NOT ME!" The Sentinels do not respond. "--GRRGHSH--ATTACK ANYTHING WITH -- LESS THAN FIVE LIMBS!" Okay, *this* prompts the Sentinels to respond -- eyes churning back on, as they begin to shove their way past Goblin and into the hall, attempting to enter the room... while three, still in the server room, rotate around -- catching sight of B. And beginning to hover, *rushing* toward her...!

"Alright, you REALLY need to stop talking," Anette say, releasing what's left of Goblin's arm and making a pass for his throat. She carefully dodges the barbed tentacles swung her way, though there are several close calls and she does get splattered with blood. Still though, she seems pretty set on ripping his throat out, as earlier promised.

Dusk's wing whips out, not very /gentle/ as he shoves Tag bag away from Goblin's slashing limbs. His own wing takes the brunt of a slash; his teeth bare in a sharp hiss as the (now-green!) membrane tears. His talons dig back in, yanking -- /hard/ -- in response as he darts back away. Past tearing at the limb that slashed at him, though, he's not sticking around for more of this. Just darting after B. /He/ has six limbs, /ha/! The largest two of which are fanning out, wide and protective to mantle over B as he vaults after the tiny sharkpup. One wing slams up hard to whip into the nearest Sentinel to hir.

Tag stumbles back from Dusk's push, loses his balance and doesn't even try to regain it, dropping instead into a roll so that he comes up in a crouch outside of the reach of tentacles. For now. Since going after /Goblin's/ eyes seems like a losing battle, he turns his attention to the /Sentinels'/ sensors, covering them over with googly eyes and stars and at least one bright iridescent dragonfly.

B cringes, head dipping lower. Ze lets Dusk handle the oncoming Sentinels, though, wide-eyed and /trembling/ but busying hirself with hir tablet as hir own drones settle on several of the server boxes nearby. Hir fingers dance rapidly across its screen as ze crouches down, making hirself as small a target as ze can beneath Dusk's large wings as ze works. Somewhat frantically.

Unable, really, to follow after B any further, Micah reluctantly switches his objective to Guard the Spellcaster for now. Letting Tian-shin and Anette handle more of the /close/ combat, he puts himself in front of Tag and continues emptying bullets into the Goblin. If the Sentinels get closer, hopefully webshooters will slow them down. Close quarters isn't exactly the place for the types of explosives that are more effective against the Toasters. "If we need to move /fast/, you grab onto me," he instructs the colour-slinger.

The Sentinels, it seems, can't grow extra eyes -- so once Tag manages to blind *them*, they proceed to go into what appears to be sleeper mode -- instantly ceasing all activity, waiting for further input.

Anette's assault connects with -- something. She rips out a throat-like *thing* from the mass of green, writhing, quivering tentacle-flesh that continues to twist, fizz, and *writhe* beneath Tian-shin's assault -- its limbs continuing to curl in on itself, blisters swelling over its body before *bursting* in a froth of oxygen and hydrogen. The Goblin's shrieks become an agonizing caterwaul; the body suddenly spasms -- and *shrinks*, visibly pulling inward -- as thick clumps of dead tissue are shed off of it and thrown to the floor. As if it's trying to collapse into the parts of its body that *aren't*, well... dying.

At least one Sentinel is flung aside by Dusk's arrival in the room; the other two Sentinels pause, clearly confused by the fact that -- there's CLEARLY something with MORE than five limbs in the way of something with LESS than five limbs, and they've been programmed to *not* harm things they aren't supposed to attack. The Sentinels hover around Dusk, their hands reaching forward to -- push at his wings? Maybe? Little roughly? As if they were politely asking him to move, if he'd be so kind?

Goblin, meanwhile, looks like a slug that's had salt poured over him; he's writhing and rolling down the hallway, leaving a slimey trail. The bullets that Micah's been firing have previously done very little, the holes rapidly closing -- but now, each hole he puts into the thing seems to *stay* there, some of them even widening and opening further, into shrieking little mouths that gush and bleed green blood.

The other Sentinels, however, are starting to slip into the room -- a whole horde of them. At least 12 remaining, by the look of it -- and though these aren't as strong as the standard Mark 3 models, and don't have the same weapon systems, they're still going after anyone who's got less than five limbs.

Tian-shin's alchemical warfare on Goblin eases off as the abrupt addition of tentacles forces her to mount a more conventional defense. Her sword flashes in bright green arcs, coming away from each fluid stroke ever greener with Goblin blood even as that opponent quails. As the Sentinels start pouring in, she levels her SuperSoaker at the first line of them and aims at the gap between their outer plates at the neck level. Her ammunition is clear, and smells powerfully of vinegar, corroding any metal in encounters beneath the plating with preternatural rapidity.

Anette goes a bit stiff as more Sentinels enter the room. Until now, she had been decided avoiding them. Lately, she hasn't had the best track record with them -- even if those events -technically- haven't happened yet. But flesh, even creepy one, she could handle. Though now that Goblin was pretty well out of the way, all that's left are the Sentinels. With a running start and a quick beat of her wings, Anette is quickly airborne and darting in and out of Sentinels. When she can, she tries to get a shot at their 'eyes', hoping to break or at least crack them. This attack is just as much about distracting them as it is about actually blinding them though.

Dusk's wings stay protectively mantled over B, providing a continued shield against the insistent prodding of the bots. No, /you/ move. His wings rustle slightly but do not shift as he reaches for the two nearer bots -- he may not be the /size/ of a semi truck but he has somewhat the /force/ of one as he grabs them to smash them together. And then, "... oh, fuck." when he notices the incoming wave of them behind. "Hope you don't have too much longer on that, B."

"Zzahh--rrraghh--hateyouEATyouHATEyouEATyou--" the Goblin's mouths are all shrieking a cacophony of shrill, hateful garbage; the brutal violence the Goblin has suffered in the past minute or so is wearing down on his... its... their? Form. The *shnk* - *shnk* of Tian-shin's blade has carved him up; the steady *blam* - *blam* of Micah's rounds pummel him with holes -- his form continues to collapse, more and more clumps of useless, green flesh dropping to the floor. When he can, he scoops these bits of flesh up, drawing it into one of his many mouths, quickly gobbling it to try and keep *some* of himself together... but it's not working out for him. He's actually moving toward the elevator door, now -- actually trying to *retreat*. Though Micah is right between him and that door -- and tentacles are stretching out, long and hungry, intent on trying to snatch him up and GOBBLE HIM UP as a snack along the way...!

Meanwhile, Tien-shin's super-soaker attack manages to catch one of these Sentinels' weaknesses -- they weren't designed for combat outside of the server room. Unlike most of the other models, these ones actually have a few metal bits inside of them; which means those bits are rapidly degrading, causing the Sentinels to start malfunctioning -- two of them promptly spark, crackle, and drop to the ground, a third stumbling aimlessly.

The bots smashed together by Dusk manage a whimpering series of sparks, before slumping into a heap of smoldering plastic; meanwhile, FOUR MORE are charging in close, straight for Dusk -- while they have no attention of directly attacking him, they are prepared to PLOW THROUGH HIM on their way to B!

There's a sudden blip, a sudden shift, and where there /was/ a Micah in reach of Goblin's tentacles, now there is not. Flicker deposits the cyborg on the floor safely out of reach of the grasping limbs, his /own/ tentacle arm whipping down to slice sharply at the nearest questing Goblin-tentacle. And then he is gone again, darting off inside the server room -- he doesn't really /grab/ two of the Sentinels charging Dusk. Just touches them; but contact is all he needs to teleport them -- just a few feet to the side to leave them buried half /in/ the nearest wall. "... just let met know when we can get out of here."

B's eyes are fix on hir tablet, still. Hir gills are stil fluttering, her gaze not moving. The tense set of hir muscles suggests she's clearly not /oblivious/ to the chaos around hir, but -- work. Hir teeth sink down against hir bottom lip before, finally, she looks up again. Another tap of the tablet has all hir drones rising into the air around hir. "Right about now. Would be fine."

It takes a moment for Micah to re-orient himself and tone down the revved-up jump his robotic limbs were planning. "Thanks!" He catches his balance and aims back at Goblin. It's the one thing he's been able to damage pretty consistently, at least. One more thing to keep away from the mission nearing completion.

Getting hit by two Sentinels is certainly preferable to getting hit by /four/. It's still not /ideal/; Dusk braces but goes down in a tangle of limbs when the Sentinels charge him, one wing swatting up to bash at one of the bots but the other crashing straight through him towards B. His fist comes up to smash into the white casing of the bot that has more solidly collided with him as he tries to push it away from them both. "Out. Right. Out would be good."

The Goblin is not happy about his lost snack-on-the-go; Micah's disappearance prompts a warbling, shrill shriek of hungry anger -- anger that promptly morphs into pain as Micah's shots *re-manifest* behind him. BLAM BLAM BLAM, more holes -- the Goblin, at this point, resembles a wobbling heap of jello that's just *rolling* down the hall, more and more of his body becoming an indistinct, amorphous blur.

Two Sentinels go down from Flicker's assault; two more are taken out by Dusk's -- though the one he swatted away is starting to struggle back up to its feet, the other one's casing having cracked and splintered, exposing its internal circuitry. Tag's assault on their visual sensors has taken out the others; the room's growing quiet -- quiet, that is, except for the gurgling mass of Goblin flesh at the other end of the room, desperately trying to get the hell *out* of here.

Anette suddenly lands beside down B, taking the moment's rest to catch her breath. "What this about us getting the hell out here?" she pants, before suddenly dodging to the side as Dusk gets pummelled by Sentinels. She growls and leaps back into the air, going for one of the more livelier (and more threatening) sentinels. She grips tightly onto it's face, spreading her wings to thoroughly block its view until she gain successfully destroy it's vision on a more permanent level with her talons.

"We got what I needed. Can you just get us -- Kind of just need --" B is clutching hir tablet close against hir chest, now, scooting in close to Flicker. "To get home."