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"I say we take this place down hard." She whispered. "This is disgusting and needs to be dismantled, piece by piece." She was fairly certain that Wraith would concur. Her teammate was probably deeply offended by everything they saw here. She knew these people wanted some serious violence. They wanted a beat down, they wanted to see fighting. Well, if they wanted fighting, Crimson Tiger was happy to oblige them. Let them experience, firsthand, the sort of brutality they forced upon others. She was no murderer, of course, but a taste of real violence was probably more than bullies like them were prepared to tolerate.

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The group's brief pause seemed to last forever, but in reality it only took a few moments. Suddenly the crowd roared and the announcer called out in full-throated glee. "YESSS! Blood has been spilled today in the name of humanity! VICTORY! VICTORY for our champions the Birds of Prey! Hold that head high, Tengu, show them the way his eyes ROLL in his head as he dies! I hope you like the taste of TARTARUS, alien scum!" And then she  laughed as the imaginary crowd cheered their names. "HAIL the Birds of Prey! HAIL! HAIL! HAIL!" 

 

And then, distinctly, came the announcer's voice sounding far more rational - indeed, cold as ice. "Thumbs down, you weak sisters." And at that moment, the laser turrets overhead opened fire in a staccato of red bolts that was no less real for not being broadcast to an international black audience! An explosion came from inside the booth at the same moment, sending a scattering of armored glass down on the heroes below even as the guns above opened fire again. 

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Foreshadow soon found the armored inlays of his uniform put to the test after barely limiting himself to glancing blasts from the turrets in mid flip.  Once he recovered his wits the disguised vigilante stared up at the glass that hung above them.  Perhaps it wasn't the smartest idea to tell their competitors where they were being watched from.  But they weren't here for a management seminar, so Foreshadow wasn't about to correct their flaws for them.  And he wasn't about to sit through another flurry of shattered glass and misplaced bullets.  

 

"Wishes are fishes today.  The lady gets her request.  Taking the place down it is."  Spreading his arms to his side Foreshadow would let the escrima sticks fall back into place with the magnetic clips that held them into place.  Reaching for his talon shaped throwing discs the psychic detective would try and feel out exactly where to aim.  Repurposing them from their original eye shape to better fit the bird theme was was an inconvenience enough on its own.  

 

Talon after talon would fly out colliding into the glass above.  The blunt edges of the throwing discs managing to form cracks throughout the glass.  But not enough to tear it wide open.  "Guess they didn't buy the cheap stuff."

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Wraith was too busy retracting her many tendrils to dodge the incoming fire; it was the best she could to to simply reclaim her mass and weather the storm of lasers without dropping her 'Tengu' disguise. Fortunately, they couldn't do much more than singe her feathers.

Not that she was keen to continue weathering that storm, much less watch her not-so-metallic teammates do so. She was off running as soon as Foreshadow was throwing his talons, and as the last of them hit the glass she launched herself into the air on surprisingly powerful hind legs to add a talon of her own.

One mighty, clawed 'Tengu' arm slammed into the glass at the center of Foreshadow's cracks, turning a once-solid barrier into a cloud of shards; Wraith hit the floor of the other side on all four limbs and cast her three-eyed gaze around the room.

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'Tengu' arrived in the broadcast booth just in time to see her quarry escape! She had a quick glimpse of a dark-haired woman in archaic dress stepping into a quick-closing elevator and one aristocratic sneer before steel doors emblazoned with obscene Greco-Roman carvings closed shut with a 'boom.' Inside the broadcast booth she found a dizzying array of screens and equipment she didn't recognize. On one of the screens, a security camera that showed a wild melee of silent explosions and hand-to-hand combat, she recognized the second Raven and Bowman IV, who seemed to be fighting their way through a heavily-guarded steel structure somewhere on the ocean. 

 

The rest of the broadcast booth, as far as she could tell from the primitive human technology, showed where signals were being broadcast all over the Earth - a trunk leading out to every continent, even India, and at least one broadcast (sent out to Puerto Rico) seemed to terminate not on Earth but aimed up into the vastness of space. From the system map before her, this was an all-too-popular show. 

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Grabbing out her grapple gun, and feeling a small satisfaction that she’d thought to bring it, she used the line to make a rapid ascent into the control booth behind "Tengu", though really now there assumed names were more or less redundant.

 

After first checking that the room was safe she quickly and rapid scanned the control panels in front of her. Whilst it had been a while since she had to disable a control panel, not since she had left the training for what the Order had originally planned for her, but she was fairly confident that she safely shut down the still potentially dangerous laser cannons.

 

 

Then they could have a look at the other signals and what the could do to help those involved.

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The Meta-Grue didn't so much climb the slope as he boiled up it, a bubbling, seething mass of righteous, predatory fury that formed into the shape of a fast, lean humanoid with red skin and great, scything claws for hands. "Not this time, Roman!" The captured alien super-soldier shouted at the air. "I'm coming for you!" And with that he ran for the elevator doors and ripped them asunder like so much tissue paper, and seemed to vault up the now-exposed elevator shaft and out of view of the heroes below. Down in the control room, Crimson Tiger's communicator beeped and Raven's grainy, static-filled voice came through. 

"<static> Tiger! You're <static> an oil rig eleven miles off Freedom City. Bowman and <static> are tied up with Sandstone and Recall." The sound of gunshots, and explosions, came through the line. "Try and stop <static> signal if you can so they can't zero more mercs on our position. And don't let the <static> escape, or they can just come back and do this all over again. <static static static> I'll be there soon. Raven out." 

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In her position Blodeuwedd couldn't help but see Meta-Grue's charge to get his revenge, something that left her in a bit of a dilemma. Whilst the Meta-Grue would obviously make sure that those who were involved here wouldn't get away, but on the other hand he would most certainly not hold his hand when meeting them. Someone would have to make sure that didn't happen. There wasn't any choose really.

 

Taking a few steps back to gain a run up Blodeuwedd dived out of the control booth rolling upright the moment she hit the floor of the arena as she dashed towards the elevator shaft that the Meta-Grue had just traversed down.

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Mali was not a technical expert. She followed up into the control room and glanced around. "I...okay, gotta block the signal. Gotta...how do I block the signal? Shia!" She calmed down, then tuned in to Foreshadow. "Hey, I just got a transmission. Raven and Bowman are in need of some help, we need to block the signal, a signal somewhere in here, so they can deal with fewer mercenaries. I'm no tech expert. Can you help?

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Foreshadow watched as Blodeuwedd  followed after the Meta-Grue.  He would have gone after her so as to not leave her alone with a rampant powerhouse.  But then heard Crimson Tiger's request.  Shooting his Grapnel line into the air he would push a button and close the distance between he ground and the control access. "Sure, let me have a look around and I'll see what I can do.  It shouldn't be too hard.  But someone should go make sure Blodeuwedd isn't  on the wrong end of Meta-Grue's anger.  He's neither with us nor against us right now.  don't get me wrong I welcome the assistance when it comes to smashing things up.  But I don't think he's going to stop at a few broken bones if he gets his arms around anyone." 

Not that Foreshadow could blame Meta-Grue for his anger. Roman engineered his own downfall by angering the alien to such a degree and making it fight countless people up to this point. For a supposed criminal mastermind it seemed a bit oolish on the off chance their captive ever got free. But, scum or not Roman didn't deserve to lose his life over his mistake. What he instead needed was to serve time as a prisoner himself.

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"I will follow Blodeuwedd," Wraith offered - with the jig up and the cameras off them, she was extraordinarily pleased to let her disguise drop; her whole body rippled as it melted and compacted into a considerably more humanoid silhouette.

It didn't stop there, though: smooth, clawed legs bent backwards into something more suited for running and leaping, the alien's metal body smoothing further still and growing a lizard-like balance tail as she headed for the elevator. "I would encourage you to follow as soon as you are able; I suspect we beat him the first time largely because he was enrages and mindless. An intelligent Grue of his power is...unlikely to be easily contained. We shall all need good fortune, I believe?"

She disappeared up the shaft like some overgrown horror movie lizard-monster, scuttling noises echoing down behind her as she wound a rapid spiral up after Blodeuwedd and the Meta-Grue.

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Foreshadow began scanning the control room for the host's operating console.  At the first sight of a keyboard he would immediately proceed to let his fingers get to work.  Raven wanted him to take down the signal and Foreshadow was all too willing to comply with the request.  Although Wraith may have hoped for good fortune there was something to the expression 'Luck is when preparation meets opportunity.'

 

And if the control room provided ample opportunity for a whole lot more preparation Foreshadow would take full advantage of that.  If it also meant causing more damage to Roman's latest playhouse.  Then all the better.  "I didn't expect this whole thing to be staged.  Even the audience.  Even the depraved souls watching this stuff aren't brave enough to share a room with the guys Roman's locking up.  Says a whole lot about the type of rats we're contending with."

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Blod and Wraith arrived to find a scene of death on the roof, but not necessarily the one they were expecting. Saturnalia Roman, instantly recognizable as the famous daughter of the legendary supervillain, was in the process of administering CPR to a frail, aged man in the remains of a suit and tie - a man barely recognizable as August Roman himself. All around her were the battered bodies of private security, who looked like they'd been tossed around like chips in a hurricane. The Meta-Grue himself had regained his Gruen form and was kept at bay with a look of deep frustration on his face, calling over the sounds of battle that arose from further down the rig, "Pulling his limbs from each other would be a fair justice for what your family has done to me!" He folded his muscular arms over each other, a red-skinned, muscular humanoid who looked deeply frustrated. "You see!" he demanded of Wraith and Blod as they arrived, evidently having pulled them into his circle of trust. "His weak human heart will deny me my vengeance! How I despise this planet!" 

 

---

 

Down below it turned out to be easy enough to shut the broadcast down; the systems in the control booth were specifically designed for that purpose. Between the systems themselves and the tapes loaded within, it was going to be easy enough to make all the charges stick that they wanted - whoever had designed this room had designed the perfect control center, but evidently the Circuit had never considered the possibility of capture, or at least hadn't considered it well enough to deal with this situation. They had them! 

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Foreshadow smiled as he finished his work on sabotaging the systems.  Collecting what evidence he could in case Roman had some method of scrubbing the data.  He considered skimming through the cameras from the control center to get a lock on where the Meta-Grue ended up.  But honestly figured it'd be unlikely that they wouldn't be able to find him.  The guy didn't act subtle.  "Crimson Tiger, let's go join the others.  If they haven't routed the Meta-Grue yet, they will no doubt need assistance.  Beside it's time for Roman's swan song."  Unaware of the fact that elsewhere August may be going about his final performance in a more literal sense of the meaning.

 

With his Grapnel gun held tightly, Foreshadow turned to pursue after their comrades and foes through the elevator shaft.  Waiting for the martial artist so they could move as a unit.

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Whilst she couldn't ready the alien shapeshifters body language it wasn't difficult to tell that he was angry and potentially dangerous. She gestured to Wraith to keep an eye on the Grue just in case he decided to start trouble. Then sheathing her sword she made her over the the fallen man, she had a little medical training but nothing beyond simple first aid. Assisting Saturnalia she looked into the other woman eyes.

 

"You know his best chances for survival is for us to call the authorities. This doesn't have to end badly if you make the right choice."

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"She is correct." Wraith remained on all four legs after skidding to a halt, though her tail had disappeared - she'd apparently reclaimed the mass to form two long, club-tipped tendrils that extended out of her back. They waved and twitched in the air above her like they had their own - not entirely benign - mind.

"This place is lost to you - you cannot change that now. Your best option is to minimize loss, including the loss of his life. It is better for you to admit defeat than suffer his death, and better for you," she added, turning a cautious but stern look toward the Meta-Grue, "to wait for your vengeance. It would have no satisfaction here, like this. There is no pride to be had in hunting the weak and helpless."

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"Hm. With that talk, I'm sorry we couldn't have finished our business. I like you, robot." Red, bat-like wings smoothly erupted from the Meta-Grue's back, and without another word he took off like a rocket, his speed belying his bulk and awkward-looking wings. Through the cloud cover and gone almost before the others could react, this was one prisoner who wasn't staying around to go back behind bars! As for the rest, the usually sharp-tongued Saturnalia Roman was too busy tending to her ailing father to do more than glare at the heroes. As the League clean-up crew arrived to take away the meta-prisoners, mostly the bodyguard who had unsuccessfully defended the Romans, with Bowman handling that situation, the Raven turned to the heroes.

 

"Nice work, everyone," she said shortly. "Pleased with what you've done here. Anyone need a ride home?"

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