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No Mutation Without Representation! (IC)


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Jack of all Blades gave Arrowhawk a devil may care grin. "Those aren't lasers!" One hand produced a grapple pistol from the swashbuckler's royal blue great coat while the other reached towards the sizzling beams, pulling it from its path to land in a glowing ball atop his palm. Shifting like a living thing, it reformed into a glowing green rapier. "This is a laser!"

Sprinting forward into the barrage of deadly light, he fired is grapple swinging directly down the corridor with a hearty laugh. The zip line pulled him across the distance in a flash, and at the apex of his arc he pushed the button that released the grapple, somersaulting through the air and between laser beams to land atop the mechanical guards' protective barrier. "Ha ha!" A thrust of his sword reduced the first cyborg's weapon to melted slag before continuing effortlessly through his armor plates. Vaulting over the disabled opponent, he made similarly short work of the remaining foes, verdant blade leaving smoking trenches with red hot edges in its wake.

As the final guard went down, Jack hopped back up on the barrier, jauntily resting one boot atop the cyborg slumped over it. "Well, come on, you lot! The water's fine!"

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Right behind the Jack came Sarah. Rushing out the elevator door she spun, lashing out with her sword down the left hand passage as she continued into the central corridor out of the firing lines.

The instant after Sarah passed by a short screaming howl roared down the halls as a jagged tear in space sliced its way through several of the defenders before instantly sealing shut.

While several of the bots managed the throw themselves out of the way the tear still caught three, reducing them to mangled heaps as the dimensional shear twisted its way through them.

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Phalanx came out of the elevator and spun to the right arms spread wide. He slammed his hands together with titanic force sending a visible shock wave rolling down the hallway. The lights shattered one by one as he raced forward sending cascades of sparks as the force of the pressure wave battered barriers and robot alike.

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So intent was Jack on showing off his best Captain Morgan pose, that he did not notice the set of bots pouring out of the walls behind him. Five panels opened on either side of the hallway behind the barrier and a new shiny bot popped out of each one.

The bots immediately began pumping laser rounds out of their rifles at the closest target: Jack of all Blades. Only two of the bots managed to find their mark, however. Jack's costume now had two new smoldering holes in the back where the laser blasts connected.

Jack flew in a spectacular arc back down the hallway and slammed harshly into the wall above the elevator doors, falling to the ground just behind Arrowhawk, Phalanx, and Sarah. The wall above the elevator now sports a large dent.

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Archeville's inhumanly fast mind surveyed the scene, and quickly noticed something rather important: these weren't robots they were up against. They were cyborgs.

Those poor people!

Eh, just means they'll ooze blood and oil instead of just oil when we bust them up!

That is a horrible thing to say! If these are something Malice created, there is even more need to stop him! And if they are not of his making, then who did? Where would he get so many near-identical cyborg troops, and where did they get the people for it? Is someone abducting people and forcibly converting them into cyborg warriors for the highest bidder?

You're overthinking this. Less thinking, more shoo-

The Doktor's internal debate was cut short by the sudden appearance of a large Jack of All Blades-shaped dent in the wall. Reflexively, he checked to make sure his force field was still up.

"Jack! Are you... hold on!" He began manipulating the controls on his Electromagnetic Screwdriver.

We have to heal him!

Or we could take out all the cyborgs... and Malice, too.

What? What are you on about?

Microwave/radio pulse, scramble their sensory interfaces. Leave them all blind, deaf, even cut their radar. Block the cameras in the hall, too, in case Knievel & Malice are watching; might even make it through that door and blind Malice and his giant robot. Maybe Malice takes off his helmet, just long enough for Arrowhawk to land one right between his-

No! We are not killers!

Well, most of us here are not....

... regardless, I do have to agree with your suggested course of action. Blind the enemy, so we can regroup and reassess.

The Doktor made one final adjustment, and a near-invisible pulse of electromagnetic energy exploded from the techno-wand.

"De cyborgs are insensate," he shouted, "und de cameras are down, so Knievel und Malice should not be able to see us! But Jack is bady vounded!"

He looked down at the gadget in his hand (which could heal him, if it wasn't currently creating the sensory obscurement field), to Phalanx (whose body coursed with energy... the all-consuming energy of the Terminus), to Sarah (who had a big sword), to Arrowhawk (who had a fancy bow & arrows), then back to Jack and his extensive injuries.

Yeah, I got nuthin'

Admitting defeat? You?

No, I merely choose not to waste mental energy on thinking of some way to heal the boy of injuries he would not have sustained if he weren't such a showboater!

Luckily for him, it is not up to you!

Oh? And what are you going to do, have Arrowhawk blow up his injuries?

I am a Doktor, you know.

"Hold on, Jack, I should haff just de ding dat can plug dat laser-punctured lung..."

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The bots on either of the side hallways did not seem discouraged by their lack or senses. Not only that, but they were joined by more of their fellows. Their ranks complete once more, they all raised their rifles and fired at the heroes closest to the door at the center hallway: Phalanx and Sarah. Of all the laser blasts, the few that actually managed to hit phalanx simply bounced off of his skin. Sarah on the other hand managed to avoid every single shot with practiced grace.

Either the Cyborgs truly were blind and were simply taking pot shots, or Dr. Archeville's effect was simply working well enough.

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Arrowhawk was unfazed by the constant stream of laser fire, or even the appearance of more cyborgs. After all, he had yet to get hit by anything, let alone injured. "Can we find some way to do this more quickly?" he asked, aiming a stream of arrows at the foes lining the left wall, although blunt arrows now he'd realised that the cyborgs were, in fact, organic. Keenly aware that yet again this had reduced his ability to dodge blows, he figured that his last volley had done the same and he was still unharmed.

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Jack looked groggily down at the smoldering holes in his black bodysuit and grimaced as his eyes struggled to focus despite the pain lancing up his back from the collision with the steel wall. Trying to move, he felt an unfortunately familiar scraping sensation deep in his chest. Gotta be kidding... same rib I broke last time I went up against Lucretia? So lame...

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Phalanx looked on in shock as Jack of all Blades flew past him to slam into the wall. He winced as the agile hero struggled to clear his head and stand, he was clearly injured but there was little Phalanx could do about that. Whatever the doctor had done seemed to have bought them some time but with more waves of robots rolling in it would only help for so long.

"We can't let them pin us down here. I'll try and clear the way." he said with a nod to the others. He slammed his hands together in another titanic crash once more sending a rippling shockwave down the right hall to slam into cyborg and barrier alike with crushing force.

He took not a moment to see what his attack had wrought before he flew down the central tunnel to lay into the cyborgs there with reckless abandon laying into the group with all he had to clear the way for the others.

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Phalanx surged into action. His mighty shock wave completely cleared one hallway of robots. He sped down the central hall, and tore into the ranks of the advanced bots, turning them into little more than hunks of flesh and scrap.

Unfortunately for Phalanx, reinforcements were not far behind, as they were with Jack. 10 more bots filled the surrounding area. This time, the robots used a variety of tactics to disrupt Phalanx's mid-air maneuvers, ultimately hitting him with a barrage of laser blasts.

As more reinforcements surged into the hallways, the Heroes began to get a sinking suspicion that they were cripplingly out-numbered. Near 50 of the robots had already been dispatched, and more were pouring out of the walls every few seconds! Was there no end in sight?!

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Archeville seemed a tad irked that the cyborgs were not flailing around helplessly. "Hunh, dey must be relying more on deir own organic sensors und vetvare dan I had surmised. Fascinating... and horrible!"

There is, of course, only one way to find out for sure...

No dissections! If any exams are to be done, it is to be done with trained and honor-bound medical professionals.

Bah...

It was clear from the missed shots of Phalanx that the Doktor's work did partially blind them, though, so he kept the field up. But that meant his wondrous techno-wand was unavailable to heal the scintillating swashbuckler. Then again, Archeville was a Doktor, and he had a labcoat full of stuff.

"Let's see.. C4? No, dat vould not make a good wound-packing material... ah-ha!" He withdrew some small dark marble-sized pellets from one pocket, and a cutting torch to open it. "Dese are filled mit a quick-hardening, porous, non-conductive foam, vhich should both patch de hole in your lung und stabilize dat fractured rib. Und for pain management," he produced a small water bottle from another pocket, and a dart from a third, and squeezed something from the dart's reservoir into the water bottle. He gave the bottle a quick shake, then used the same dart as a syringe to draw off some of the mix, "some heavily, heavily diluted neurotoxin to impede certain localized nerve transmissions."

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As Dr. Archeville attended to Jack's wounds, it became ever more apparent that the supply of bots seemed to be endless. The heroes would have to do something, and fast!

Ten more bots replaced the one phalanx had just leveled with his shockwave. They all raised their rifles at the team medic, but were either too blind, or too much of a bad shot to hit the Doctor, a fact for which he was very thankful.

The robots that Arrowhawk had just taken out also received reinforcements, their numbers filling back up to 10. They returned his fire, but managed to hit nothing but air, likely for the same reasons that Archeville was still uninjured.

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How many are there? How do we stop them!? Then, a thought occurred to Arrowhawk. A dangerous, incriminating thought, but one that might work.

Carefully, confidently, he hung his bow at his side and shouted for Knieval to here. "Captain! Call off your cyborg toys, and I can tell your power-armoured friend just who blew up his home. Hell, I can bring him the man who did it! Sound fair?"

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Jack staggered abruptly to his feet, coughing profusely. "Neurotoxin? Dios, Doc! That's not... uh, I... actually, that's a lot better." The swordsman flexed his extremities experimentally. "Thanks, I think." Still moving a little stiffly, the swordsman stepped in beside Arrowhawk, quickly reacquainting himself with the situation. "Aw, that ain't gonna work, 'Hawk," he shouted into the room. "Everybody knows Lucretia McEvil there wets himself anytime he hears there's metas around. Hell, he's probably just using the cyborgs to keep us busy while he runs away to hide."

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"I don't suppose wrecking the walls those spawn points are in would slow down the reinforcements? Because as fun as an extended war of attrition sounds I'd really like to get some sleep tonight."

Putting action to words, Sarah flicks her sword down the central corridor sending a tear chewing through where some of the new cyborgs had exited from.

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Sarah's blast crashed into the wall of the facility. Though the damage it did was slight, it did in fact mangle some of the metal on the wall that the bots were pouring out of. A few more good hits, and they might just stem the flow of troops that were harrying them.

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Phalanx was still recovering from he reckless assault on the bots when the next batch popped out of the wall. He was unable to avoid most of thier fire but managed to weather the attack still standing firm. "Stop hiding behind your horrific creations and face us cowards." he called out to the villains as he launched another round of devastating attacks on the cyborgs gathered around him.

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This second round of strikes proved to be just as devastating as the ones before. Phalanx proved able to dismantle each and every bot opposing him a second time in a row. As the various pieces of cyborg littered the floor of the hallway around him, Phalanx waited for the inevitable reinforcements to arrive. He would be disappointed, however, as the walls remained sealed. Either Sarah's attack had damaged the production pods enough, or the villains behind the doors had heard their threats and requests. Either way, it seemed this fight was coming to a close... Or just getting started.

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Archeville allowed himself a brief moment of pride in his medical skill at the patch-job he'd done on Jack of All Blades...

Go forth, my minion, and carry out the will of Archeville!

... how can he 'carry forth your will' if you have not given him any commands?

... silence!

... before setting his mind to the imminent battle.

"Alright, Taylor," the Doktor muttered, referring to Knievel by his original name, "let us see vhat I haff learned from our last encounter..."

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A hiss of steam is suddenly released as the giant blast door begins to slowly creak open. Framed in the door way is none other than Eric Micheals, aka Malice. His so called "Mantle of Freedom" has under gone a radical change since his last appearance. Most notable of all is the right arm is now a massive cannon that extends past his head and goes down nearly to his knee. Next to the sleek design of the rest of the suit, it looks especially ugly. The armor itself is now semi translucent, almost like very dark stained glass.

"I thought a lot of things about you over the years Arrowhawk. Most of them actually pretty good. See I respect what you've done. You use, for all intents and purposes, a fancy stick thrower to fight some of the powerful and deranged forces known to man. You're doing it because you believe it to be right, not because it is easy. That is an admirable quality I wish more people shared.

But that simply makes what you just did all the more despicable. To taunt me with information about that day, when you yourself haven't acted on it, is a moral failing on a magnitude I cannot comprehend. You are no hero, and your status as a human being is in question."

His piece said, Malice levels off his cannon at Arrowhawk and fires a completely clear beam that can still be clearly seen by how much it shakes the air. Anything the beam hits is torn apart, molecule by molecule.

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Arrowhawk flung himself to the floor in a roll, feeling the cannon blast above his head. A cindering smell filled his nostrils as it became apparent a huge hole had been blown clean through his cape. With a smirk, he rolled upright again, barely a foot from where he'd dived in his tight arc.

"Locked you up, didn't it?"

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As the transparent blast of energy dissipated, a streak of blue and silver flashed into the heroes field of vision. Captain Knievel skidded to a halt in a three point stance front of where Malice was standing. The two were now about ten feet into the room, beyond the heavy blast doors.

"Damnit, Malice! I told you he was hard to hit! Be more careful next time!" Knievel said, glancing back at the armored villain. He then turned his attention to the assemble heroes. "Hey, Fletch! What he said." Knievel jerked his head towards Malice as he rose into a standing position, right arm thrust toward the hallway and cradled in his left hand. "ADRENALINE CANNON ... FIRE!!!" For a split second there was a lull, as the device on his arm sucked in the surrounding air and energy, running it through it's conversion engine. All at once the device released a wave of white hot, searing, plasma energy down the hallway. Having pumped more energy into this attack, it was wide enough to cover the entire hallway, burning all those inside.

As the smoke cleared, and the hero's vision returned, Knievel stood, snubbing his nose at them. "Oh yea, and tell your mom I said hi. You and Archie over there have been a thorn in my side for too long, Fletch! Today, all that is going to change. Now come over here so I can snap that damn stick thrower over my knee." Knievel held his left hand outward, and curled his fingers back twice making a gesture that simply stated, "Bring it on."

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"You see, Malice," continued Arrowhawk, rolling to one side and ducking under the blast from Knieval's cannon in one single practiced movement, feeling it rush over his head. "You're a genocidal racist thug whose ability to deem me a hero or not is roughly equal to the dried faecal matter in the toilets of a dive bar." He came to his feet again, bracing them hard into a firing stance. Seriously, I don't like it when Scarab looks at me judgementally, but at least she's justified. As for him... "You're right, Captain. I am hard to hit. And I'm strong, fast, and generally the best at what I do. You, Malice? At least Captain Kangaroo here's got physical training." He deftly nocked an arrow, overdrawing it as he instinctively drew a bead on Knieval's chest, one eye narrowing under the shadow of his hood.

"Without our armour, without our weapons, and with me making it fair by tying my hand behind my back... I could use my one free hand to snap your spine." Arrowhawk phrased it not as a threat, or a challenge, but simply as a fact. He fired the shot at Knieval, growling when it apparently had no effect despite hitting easily. "So bring your guns, bring your moral superiority... I'm still not telling you who ruined your life until you stop hiding behind a tin suit and a meathead with a gun."

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There was a time that Captain Knievel had held Arrowhawk in the highest regard, like Malice. But that time was long passed. The muscular man no longer feared the stick thrower, and it showed. Captain Knievel turned his chest just enough to minimize the impact from the blow. Though despite the fact that he no longer wore armor, the arrow actually bounced off of his chest. The ricochet was enough to affect the flight pattern in such a way that the arrow became harmless to both himself and Malice.

"I seriously doubt that you'll ever have that chance, Fletch. You're going to have to go through me, first."

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