Logs:Operation: S.T.A.N.D. D.O.W.N.
| Operation: S.T.A.N.D. D.O.W.N. | |
|---|---|
Surprise Transients Arouse Nervous Disorder. Détente Only When Necessary. | |
| Dramatis Personae | cn: violence "This, ah, this isn't. Staten Island, is it?" (Set immediately after riftsplosion.) |
| Location
<GA> Across the Rift - Holland Farm - Hiawassee | |
One of many such family farms -- though fewer all the time -- in this little Appalachian town, the Hollands' 160-some rolling acres are divided about evenly between peach orchards and yearly rotations of crops. A burbling creek winds along one edge of the property, which extends up past the arable portions into steep, wooded mountainside. There are several acres of vegetable gardens nearest to the farmhouse, producing enough food to feed the family and often with excess to sell locally. The barn and pasture adjoining this are likewise mainly for the family's own use, with just a couple of dairy cows, a pair of horses, and plenty of chickens. The farmhouse itself is a big rambling white affair with a generous wraparound porch, full of rustic charm even in its no-nonsense practicality. The furniture is sturdy and plain and well-cared for, the walls adorned with handmade crafts, children's artwork, and some of Jackson Holland's more whimsical original paintings. The kitchen is vast and airy and superbly organized, always redolent of rich home cooking and of the herbs hanging in bundles to dry. In addition to the main house there are two smaller outbuildings, used in the past to house farm hands during the harvest, though these days they mainly host the steady stream of mutant refugees passing through the farm on their way to an uncertain hope of safety beyond the borders. The Georgia skies are clear and blue today, the cool air crisp and the ground covered with the last of the warm autumn colours. Lily, in thick overalls, black boots, and a thick heather grey sweater, is a blur of movement as she bounces from house to outbuildings, delivering warm blankets, firewood, carafes of hot cocoa. For a moment she pauses, stays in one place long enough to look out from the farmhouse porch over the property. Peers in a window, waves at her brother before leaning to grab more firewood - stops, eyes suddenly wide and alert as something changes inside. A blink and she’s in the kitchen now, reaching for her sister-in-law’s shoulder while Skittles barks at the surprise visitors. Her eyes narrow at one of them in particular, the other hand going to a pouch clipped on her belt loops. “What. The. Hell." Polaris had been stripping dried leaves from a bundle of thyme to fill a neatly hand-labelled glass jar, but she whips around at the abrupt warping of space around them, bumping into Lily in her surprise and haste. She's looking rather prematurely festive in a frilly red gingham apron over a green linen tunic dress, a brief red kerchief holding back her wavy green hair. Her always pale face has gone even paler, her large eyes huge. "Where--" she starts, then, "--how--" then, "What the heck did you do with my husband?"The knife block behind her empties out, the blades floating menacingly in the air between the Allreds and their visitors. Tony is not looking festive -- he's not really looking anything except very disgruntled, looking around the kitchen with a growing frown that only cements itself into place as he looks at the two women. One of his hands is rubbing over his face, the other falling to steady himself against the table. "Husband?" He glances to his teammates as if they might have answer to this -- then to the floating knives. "This, ah, this isn't. Staten Island, is it?" Beside Tony, Bruce is clutching his head, yanking off his glasses and groaning loudly. He's only just recovered enough to open his eyes again the knives come out, and he starts hyperventilating. "No no no no no," he whispers between panicked breaths. "Stop, go back, I'm--" Whatever else he was going to say dissolves into a choked cry as he doubles over in apparent agony. He's growing in height and girth alike, his skin shifting to an odd gray and then green as he bursts from all his clothes save for a pair of purple trunks. Bruce's cry becomes Hulk's roar as they settle into their proper shape, seven feet tall and easily half that wide at the shoulders, rippling with bulky inhuman musculature. "WHO HURT BRUCE?!" they demand, their voice booming painfully loud. Natasha is looking around the farmhouse with a slight purse of lips, a small slow breath drawn in. She straightens when the other women move to attack, eyeing the beltpouch, the floating knives -- her lips twist a little bit to the side. Her own fingers twitch, but she doesn't move -- not until Hulk bursts into existence, at which point her shoulders tighten, eyes flinching slightly narrower. "I'm sorry," she replies, low and quick, "I don't know who your husband is, but this will get sorted out a lot smoother with words and not --" Her eyes shift from Lily to Polaris. "Knives." Clint scans their surroundings, as well, without much sign of distress or excitement. He taps the side of his goggles a couple of times, then shakes his head. When Bruce changes he finally looks--just a touch--dismayed. "Ma'am, there is an explanation for this, but it--will take some explaining." As a sort of aside to Hulk he adds, his voice equable, "No one's hurt Bruce. I think he just got a bit stressed out." “You don’t know-“ Lily’s eyes flick from Tony to Natasha to Clint, her face getting tighter and tighter with each glance. “How dare you.” At her side, her hand dips into her pouch, curls around something small. The next moment Lily is behind Clint, hand lightly touching his quiver, bow, gun - another blink later they clatter to the ground underneath Polaris’ wall of knives. “How the hell did you find us.” Polaris sucks in a sharp breath when Bruce transforms. "Liars! Why else would you be here?" She grits her teeth, eyes narrowing at Natasha. As Lily bursts into action two of the floating knives peel off and fly unerringly for Tony's face and gut. Hulk roars again, louder, and hurls themselves between Tony and the incoming knives, which bounce off of his skin without leaving so much as a scratch. "NO HURT TONY!" he bellows and, picking up table in front of them, tries to sweep the remaining knives out of the air. He does in fact swat most of them down, before shattering the table against the nearby cabinets, showering everyone nearby with spliters. Natasha is moving in the same instant the knives are, kicking Clint's gun back toward him as she does. The speed with which she's at Polaris's side is far beyond human, one arm twisted behind the other woman's back as she backs them up against the wall. "I'm sorry, did you want to see your husband again? Might want to stand down and hear us out." "That -- is a long story. Parallel world. Dimensional rift. Very unstable. Maybe not as unstable as --" There is a brief silence from Tony when the knives fly. His head ducks, eyes closing and arm lifting in ineffective shield of the rain of splinters. "Don't advise pissing off the big guy. -- Uh. More." "We're not who you think we are," Clint says, though he doesn't sound exceptionally hopeful of being heeded now. Without warning he drops low, sweeping a leg to trip Lily while snagging up the gun Natasha kicks to him, drawing a bead on the teleporter. "Please," is heavy and sincere. Lily’s attention is on Hulk, ball bearings teleporting from her hand into Hulk’s arm - “So much for a mutant cure,” she mutters,” -when Clint’s leg takes her by surprise and she falls heavily onto the floorboards. Her expression is murderous at first, but then a flash of confusion passes over her face. “Why are you pretending you don’t know me?” Polaris throws a startlingly fast and heavy punch as Natasha comes for her, but it's still too slow and she grunts with pain and frustration when her arm gets twisted back. The knives Hulk had swatted down pick themselves back up, but then her eyes snap to Lily staying in Clint's line of fire and she gasps. "Stop!" there's a panicked edge in her cry, a quick flick of her eyes up at the ceiling. The knives clatter to the floor. "Wait, did you say dimensional rift?" Hulk drops the remnants of the table and howls with pain, clutching their arm. "THAT HURT!" They punch the counter Polaris had been standing at, caving it in with one massive fist. Then, in case anyone was unclear about what had just happened, "HULK SMASH!" "Parallel world," Natasha confirms. She doesn't let Polaris go, entirely, but her grip eases enough to go from painful to only uncomfortable. Her eyes, wide, are fixed on Hulk as they cave the counter in, but snap to Lily soon enough. "We don't know you. The us you know are still out there. We just need to get home." "Home. Where I'm guessing your -- husband? -- got -- yoink." Tony's eye twitches when Hulk howls, a tighter clench to his jaw and a flare to his nostrils. He takes a step forward, no matter how insignificant his frame when he puts it between Lily and Hulk. "He got the better half of this deal. This world? Very violent." He looks only slightly smug when Lily goes to the ground. "Less smash," he says, quieter, over his shoulder to Hulk. "More talk." | |
