The baddies of NextGenMarvel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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nextgenerationmarvel2013-08-24 06:32 pm
ngm_villains) wrote in nextgenerationmarvel2013-08-24 06:32 pm
Veridian Under Siege
Time: 11:00 am Friday
Where: Veridian Dynamics
Who: Purifiers, Vargas, Marcelo, Sage, possibly others
What: The Purifiers have chosen to make a statement, and Marcelo's corporation is the unfortunate target.
Warnings: Possible violent content.
The time had come for the Crusade to make a big statement, to show its power and purpose to a world that seemed drifting towards damnation. The Brethren had made their orders, and Vargas was to lead a handpicked group of Purifiers in an assault on a major corporate power that had aligned itself with the mutant curse. Originally, Vargas had insisted they assault Shaw Industries directly but it had been vetoed by the Brethren on the grounds that Shaw Industries was a virtual fortress, possessed not only of defences but of actual weapons systems that would likely have turned any effort at attack into a bloody debacle, let alone the presence of numerous powerful mutants, but also because Veridian was an international corporation and the effects of the attack would echo beyond the borders of the United States.
They would make the approach by two directions, one from underground, blasting into the subbasements of Veridian and the other from the ground, approaching in an armoured helicopter. The attack from the ground would be directed by twenty armoured Purifiers, men equipped with heavy weaponry and armour proof against all but the strongest of attacks. From the air would descend another twelve, modern-day Disciples and Apostles, armed the same but made up of the most experienced and capable members of the organization, all former military men, mostly former special forces. Along with them would go Vargas himself, brandishing the blade he'd found many years ago, near the beginning of his personal war against the forces of genetic corruption.
Though he was the commander of this mission, he knew that in the end, he was naught but a servant, a faithful slave to the One True God, the Lord of Hosts. He had spent the journey to the Veridian Dynamics tower in prayer and contemplation, eagerly imploring the Lord's blessing in what they had to do. Their misson was to make a wreckage of Veridian Dynamics and seize Marcelo Alencar da Silva as a hostage. Vargas would have preferred that he be made a bloody example of, but the Brethren were wise and believed he had value as a hostage. Getting Veridian, the most important company to so far subscribe to the Shaw girl's blasphemous drive to accept mutants into the body politic to abandon the plans and getting rid of a prominent mutant sympathsizer to Brazil would be victories. He would trust his masters, both Earthly and Heavenly. He was a soldier, pledging his sword for Father, Son and Holy Spirit. To doubt or question was not his to do.
As they approached, they opened up fire against the side of the building. It was then that they got their first surprise. While the Vulcan cannon they used was capable of shattering individual panes, it wasn't capable of inflicting collateral damage. In fact, it was barely doing the job on individual panes as it was. Clearly, the glass being used in Veridian wasn't ordinary. But it didn't take long for enough of the top few floors to be cracked open for the teams to go in, lead by Vargas himself. The security guards armed with tasers and net guns were another small surprise, though the tasers were useless against the armoured shell of the Purifiers and even the nets, while somewhat inconvenient, assumed ordinary human targets or close to them. Knock-out gas would have been highly effective, save for the full NBC protection offered by the Purifier armour.
In the end, the difference lay almost as much in the intent of the Purifiers. Veridian security had likely been organized around preventing theft and vandalism against motley bands of supervillains or mere terrorists, not military-trained men with heavy weaponry bent on making a statement about the enduring power of their faith before the world.
Where: Veridian Dynamics
Who: Purifiers, Vargas, Marcelo, Sage, possibly others
What: The Purifiers have chosen to make a statement, and Marcelo's corporation is the unfortunate target.
Warnings: Possible violent content.
The time had come for the Crusade to make a big statement, to show its power and purpose to a world that seemed drifting towards damnation. The Brethren had made their orders, and Vargas was to lead a handpicked group of Purifiers in an assault on a major corporate power that had aligned itself with the mutant curse. Originally, Vargas had insisted they assault Shaw Industries directly but it had been vetoed by the Brethren on the grounds that Shaw Industries was a virtual fortress, possessed not only of defences but of actual weapons systems that would likely have turned any effort at attack into a bloody debacle, let alone the presence of numerous powerful mutants, but also because Veridian was an international corporation and the effects of the attack would echo beyond the borders of the United States.
They would make the approach by two directions, one from underground, blasting into the subbasements of Veridian and the other from the ground, approaching in an armoured helicopter. The attack from the ground would be directed by twenty armoured Purifiers, men equipped with heavy weaponry and armour proof against all but the strongest of attacks. From the air would descend another twelve, modern-day Disciples and Apostles, armed the same but made up of the most experienced and capable members of the organization, all former military men, mostly former special forces. Along with them would go Vargas himself, brandishing the blade he'd found many years ago, near the beginning of his personal war against the forces of genetic corruption.
Though he was the commander of this mission, he knew that in the end, he was naught but a servant, a faithful slave to the One True God, the Lord of Hosts. He had spent the journey to the Veridian Dynamics tower in prayer and contemplation, eagerly imploring the Lord's blessing in what they had to do. Their misson was to make a wreckage of Veridian Dynamics and seize Marcelo Alencar da Silva as a hostage. Vargas would have preferred that he be made a bloody example of, but the Brethren were wise and believed he had value as a hostage. Getting Veridian, the most important company to so far subscribe to the Shaw girl's blasphemous drive to accept mutants into the body politic to abandon the plans and getting rid of a prominent mutant sympathsizer to Brazil would be victories. He would trust his masters, both Earthly and Heavenly. He was a soldier, pledging his sword for Father, Son and Holy Spirit. To doubt or question was not his to do.
As they approached, they opened up fire against the side of the building. It was then that they got their first surprise. While the Vulcan cannon they used was capable of shattering individual panes, it wasn't capable of inflicting collateral damage. In fact, it was barely doing the job on individual panes as it was. Clearly, the glass being used in Veridian wasn't ordinary. But it didn't take long for enough of the top few floors to be cracked open for the teams to go in, lead by Vargas himself. The security guards armed with tasers and net guns were another small surprise, though the tasers were useless against the armoured shell of the Purifiers and even the nets, while somewhat inconvenient, assumed ordinary human targets or close to them. Knock-out gas would have been highly effective, save for the full NBC protection offered by the Purifier armour.
In the end, the difference lay almost as much in the intent of the Purifiers. Veridian security had likely been organized around preventing theft and vandalism against motley bands of supervillains or mere terrorists, not military-trained men with heavy weaponry bent on making a statement about the enduring power of their faith before the world.
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Rather than turn his body around, he just moved his hand slightly to aim the nozzle of the fire extinguisher behind him. He pressed the trigger to send ammonium phosphate dry chemical behind him and toward Vargas' face.
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Provided he was capable of dodging a flailing, but still incredibly fast and strong hand reaching out towards him.
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He dropped the fire extinguisher and sprinted down the hall. He turned on his silence powers and wrapped them around himself. He needed to get upstairs. He knew every experiment in the works in his building. He needed in the labs to have a chance of living until help arrived.
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And ... there was nothing to be heard. Nothing. He'd have to rely on the genetic scanner he had before, which could give him a broad sense of where Marcelo was, but not as precise as his senses could. He leapt back in action, brandishing his blade and looking to find Marcelo.
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He did not want to run into any of Vargas' lackeys if he could help it. He needed to get up through HR and then he could scramble through labs. They didn't make weapons here, but that didn't mean he couldn't use the unexpected as weapons.
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He was gaining on Marcelo, and this time he would not play any games. His sword was already out, still stained with the woman's blood. It would soon taste a man's blood ...
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He caught a glance of his high tech phone wrapped around his wrist. He hollowed out the silence around him as he kept moving.
He grabbed the phone off his wrist and bent it into shape to make a call. He hit speed dial with his thumb as he checked over his shoulder.
Never in his life had he prayed to get Stephanie's voicemail. If she couldn't ask him questions, he could just say what he needed to. He needed to leave her one last message. He didn't think this was going to go his way.
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"Marcelo, mi amor, I was just thinking about you ..." Stephanie's sultry smile was evident in the phone. She then laughed slightly. "Here I am, when you've probably phoned me to cancel dinner tonight because you have a late meeting or something."
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"S-Stephanie? Stay at work. You're safe there. He can't possibly get to you there." He stumbled over the words a bit.
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"Stay there, Stephanie. I love you."
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She made two calls, firstly to the X-Men at the Mansion, outlining the situation as best she could, given her limited intelligence. And then she made the same call to an extremely secretive line in the Hellfire Club.
Perhaps she could get assistance of some sort from there as well. She wasn't about to turn down anyone who could help out the man she loved. Anyone at all, even if it was Sinister.
Stephanie didn't care. He was non-negotiable.
The next thing she did was punch the wall as hard as she could, until her knuckles started to bleed and the adrenaline-like rush of kinetic energy felt like it was ready to explode.
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Also, he wasn't likely to stay safe with a crazed swordsman chasing after him.
He put his phone back on his wrist and headed toward a cabinet. He didn't manage to get to the floor he wanted, but he had a good idea his time was running out. He hoped the labs had something he could use. Outside of the chemicals and substances locked in the cabinet. He didn't know the lab code to get into it, but he did remember his own override code.
He tried to keep his hands steady as he punched in the numbers.
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He didn't want Marcelo dead, but he wanted him disabled and left while he attended to any further opposition. It would be a simple matter, to, with a swift movement, slide one of his blades through the man and into the wall below, in such a way that he would be able to live for hours if need be.
When it was all over, he could retrieve Marcelo and the Brethren could decide whether to treat his wounds or allow him to die.
"An impressive trick with the extinguisher, friend. But one you will not be able to repeat."
The blade slid forwards, faster than Marcelo could possibly react against.
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The shock of it kept him from really feeling it. He blinked down at the sharp metal piercing his torso.
"Well, fuck." This was entirely not how he figured he would die. Swords were not bullets. And it was the wrong reason, too.
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"I believe your harlot will be coming soon to avenge you. Perhaps I can make her scream again, only this time you will be able to hear it ..." He sneered and stuck the blade in deeper, so only the crossbar and handle of the blade stuck out of his back, the rest of the blade sunk deep into the cabinet and the wall.
"You should not have betrayed your kind. But in the end, we are all in the judging hands of the Lord. Pray, traitor, if the pain will permit you."
And with that, he was gone.
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He'd failed. He's failed Stephanie. He'd failed Luiza. He probably failed his father. He swiped at his eyes as he tried to ignore the blood oozing out around the blade.
He numbly flicked a finger against the blade holding him in place. This is probably what he deserved for getting Luiza killed. The woman he had begged to come with him to America so he could have at least one friendly face as he set up operations. The woman who watched over him like a mother.
He swallowed and ignored the pain. It was easy to do since he hadn't felt much of it yet. He looked into the cabinet and at where the sword went through the cabinet. He wished he studied chemistry better. Just he knew these reactions better. But vengeance had always been more important. And more hollow.
He reached out with arms and hands that felt heavy and started moving beakers and bottles of chemicals up to the next shelf. He may not of been entirely chemistry savvy, but he understood what acids did. And he saw some hydrofluoric acid because someone was nice enough to write it out and put little skulls around the name.
He would work on moving the chemicals except the acid. Then he would dig around the cabinet for protective gear.
Marcelo would try the acid on the sword blade a bit away from his body. If that didn't work, he would us it on the back of the cabinet and the wall.
He had to try something. Even if he felt his worth diminishing the longer he lived and Luiza didn't.
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"Don't make a move. Best for you, anyway. Sword's the only thing keeping you from bleeding out right now."
A machine gun clicked audibly as it was pointed about five feet from Marcelo's head.
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Marcelo was determined to die on his own terms and not Vargas'. He continued using acid on the back of the cabinet and wall. The fumes from the acid were not making him feel all that great. Even with what protective gear he managed to reach in the cabinet. But he saw himself having a limited time left.
Even more if this Purifier was more than talk with his gun pointed at the Brazilian's head.
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Before he could make a solid decision, however, a brilliant blue-white light blew out the nearest door, causing him to loose focus on his target, in favor of ... whatever caused that. Not Vargas. A mutant of some kind, his sensors told him.
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He sighed to himself. He was going to die like a bug pinned on display.
The sound of the door blowing out didn't particularly startle Marcelo. He noted it absently and the familiar blue-white light as he flung hydrofluoric acid at the Purifier's face.
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And it was then that Stephanie saw Marcelo and all the colour drained from her face. Wisps of summoned pyroplasm dissipated instantly as she ran over to him.
"... don't move. The X-Men are coming. They can help. We'll get you out of here." She was amply bruised and battered around, having been shot several times by Purifiers and a significant part of her clothes had been burnt away from when a foolish neophyte had tried to use his flamethrower, but she was all right.
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"You... you shouldn't be here." He hung his head and tried to ignore the tears squeezing out the sides of his eyes. "Vargas is hunting for you. Please, Steph. Get out of here."
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They were going to get married, as soon as he recovered from the injuries. Or at least, that was what was going through her mind at the moment.
"He will be busy with the X-Men." Stephanie decided. "And this time, I'll know he's coming." The idea should have, in fact, it did terrify her, but she wasn't going to leave Marcelo, no matter what.
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"I'm sorry," was about all he could manage. He didn't know if she could cut through this goddamn fucking sword. Acid hadn't done anything. He felt like bait in the perfect trap and entirely helpless.
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