Heavy Metal Horde: Nimrod Cometh

Brief Title:
Heavy Metal Horde: Nimrod Cometh

Characters:
Sebastian Shaw, The Enchantress, Suzanne Endo, Armand, Alchemy, Richenda Gray, Empath, NPCS: Nimrod, Bishop

Scene Runner/Watcher:

IC Date:
07/30/12 14:00

Location:
Massachusetts Academy

Summary:
Shaw and Amora take Suzi to see the school and the Hellions program. Armand and Tom are about thanks to the summer program. Richenda (Amelie) is under cover, checking things out under escort with Bishop. The time-displaced Sentinel arrives, and begins to malfunction. Empath re-appears to help out.

Social or Plot:

TS:
No

Log:
A step through a simple door, and suddenly Ms. Suzanne Endo is in ... Massachusetts? That's what the GPS on her phone reports, anyway. She glances at that, and then towards th two benefactors who seem to be leading this tour, as they emerge into a posh-looking underground lounge facility, surrounded by the neatly well-kempt array of things one would expect be present in a common room intended for the under-twenty set of the modern age. The Chinese woman's gaze is active, taking in everything around her, as she listens to the explanations being offered as to why they are here, and what all of this means to the apparently budding alliance Shaw is building between herself and those already in his 'circle.' Oh, how ironic that she has no idea how appropriate that word really is.

Suzanne follows Shaw from the lounge along a hallway to the elevator leading upwards, towards ground level, chatting amiably enough. She gets a chance to take in the rather storied campus of the Massachussetts Academy as they emerge, looking around. The campus is largely empty, of course, save for special summer sessions. It makes this a rather cozy and private visit, just the way Shaw and company like things, it seems.

"Integration and socialization are just as important as any other lessons-" Sebastian notes, "I hesitate to call it 'indoctrination', but we've had an array of highly capable behavioral experts, including Ms. Frost, design the entire campus to encourage that sort of thing. Most of the students haven't developed the tools to -recognize- when they're being guided in that fashion, and by the time they do, applying them ex post facto is nearly impossible." he sounds justifiably proud of this place, and to be honest, he's taken to some of the students - and finds them a far better outlet for certain paternal leanings which have been...frustrated by his actual offspring. Fortunately, that hasn't come up yet.

The blonde walking beside Sebastian Shaw tonight isn't Emma Frost but, instead, Amora the Enchantress. Dressed in a business suit with a shockingly short skirt, all in light green. Her hair up in a bun and glasses perched on her nose. "I am sure Ms. Endo understands the concepts you're speaking of, Sebastian. I understand the Chinese school systems are very similar, ensuring that the students are properly reverent to mother China from a young age."

There's a young man...or woman, but most likely a young man who walks along carrying a rolling pin tucked under an arm and awkwardly holding a tray of cupcakes with his backpack slung over his shoulder as he moves quickly. He's in school uniform of course, so a student...all that hair worn in a singular braid that's coiled up into a bun at the nape of his neck as he moves along quickly. Its Armand and he hums softly to himself.

Walking up behind Armand is Tom in school uniform, carrying his satchel over his shoulder. He walks with his hands stuffed in his pockets, occasionally taking one out to push back his glasses as he becomes lost in thought, kicking a small stone along with his loafer.

Well... it's no vacation resort, despite the expense. Chenda Gray is well aware of this as she steps onto the campus's concrete, in her disguise as a wealthy prospective student. Her normally wavy hair is ironed out stick-straight, two locks framing her face and the rest scruncheed into a tail high on the back of her head. A red silk cowlneck sweater hints at respectability, while a short black leather skirt does more than hint at a rebellious streak, just the sort of thing the Academy is intended to deal with. Her legs are protected by dark socks and black Doc Martens, the right sock folded down over the top of the boot. More rebellion. She clutches her stylish little black leather backpack in front of her with both hands, though it's obviously designed for wearing instead of clutching, a sign of nervousness that both is and isn't part of her disguise, waiting for her escort to finish parking the Beamer and join her. He's /soooo/ fussy about that car... it might explain why his spoiled stepdaughter is rebelling. If the cover story holds, anyway...

Of course, it's impossible not to notice Armand and Tom nearby. The cupcakes are a good giveaway for one, the demeanor for the other. She watches thoughtfully as they pass by.

"Naturally." Suzanne responds to Shaw with a nod, as her gaze sweeps past the marble fascade of the administration building and takes in the manicured lawns, and the sight of at least a few students out and about. "And, as Amora has mentioned, it is a topic I am at least familiar with given my own origins." She turns to look back at the dormitory building from which they emerged. "But my question is, honestly, what is your end goal with this project? Coworkers, like Ms. Blevins? Well-educated, gifted guard-dogs? The next generation of leaders? You are investing quite a bit, so I am curious what your bottom line ROI is, here." Suzanne continues to walk with Shaw and Amora along one of the sidewalks crossing the quadrangle as they continue their chat.

Elsewhere, or perhaps best stated Elsewhen, a figure of might and horror appears, quickly adapting shape and appearance to blend into the surroundings. Interfacing with a few local systems quickly gathers more exacting details on target locations, and another transit is prepared. Little does that figure realize that brief interface has compromised systems believed to be more advanced than anything ever known in the history of robotics and electronic systems.

Shaw replies with surprising candor, "To be honest, we have little need for guard-dogs. We pay quite a good rate for those and command surprising loyalty." he gestures broadly to the grounds, "Do you know...Emma and I were, and remain, quite close. One thing I learned from her is that when you teach the young, truly -teach- them, you leave your mark on the world through them. You imprint your methods and philosophy on them - they adapt them, to be sure - but the world -becomes- more what you want it to be, through them."

He pauses, turning to look fully at the woman, "You've gotten an inkling of what we do, what we -really- do, and seem to have no small taste for it already." he seems to roll those words over carefully, a bit flirtatious? Perhaps, but there's more there as well, "But future allies are invaluable. These children will spread out into every imaginable corner of the halls of power. And thus, so will we."

Amora yawns. Truth be told, this is all very boring. Of course, a race of immortals doesn't think quite so much about planning for the future or leaving their mark on the world. "I still wonder if Selene isn't just raising a generation of dishes for her all you can eat buffet." She mutters.

Armand continues to walk along, managing to not drop that rolling pin, keeping his head down and he is very careful with his tray of sweet, looking behind him for a moment to peer at Tom before continuing on his way, shaking his head. "And in the morning, I shall try to convince to be allowed to make the pancakes." The young Frenchman states, just in case he can hear him.

"Why do you need to convince them to allow you to make pancakes? Why not just tell them you're making them or request them from the cafeteria? I doubt they'd be very upset to have a volunteer in the kitchen." Tom skips ahead a few steps to catch up, hands still stuffed in his pockets.

Close enough to hear that the grown-ups coming out of that building are talking, but not close enough to hear what they're saying, Chenda... *ahem* Socorro Amelia Vega looks the small gathering over curiously. Two very beautiful women in business clothes and a sorta-handsome older man, rather old-fashioned in dress, as eclectic a mix as any three people might be, even here. She has to stifle a giggle when the tall woman yawns. Grown-ups talk about such boring stuff, even to each other!

Still, standing here like a lump is dull, and there are people nearby. Amelia fidgets, then steps over to walk with the two students. "Please excuse me, but do you need help with that?" she asks, her Spanish accent touched just slightly with New York and perfectly feigned.

Suzanne ahs softly, nodding to acknowledge Sebastian's point. "I see. A rather ambitious undertaking, then. But I can see the point of the hefty investment, with that potential ROI to reap in the future. Still, definitely not the short game. I am impressed. It is the rare Westerner who can understand and appreciate the long-term investment without short-term reward structures." Oh, she is, as usual, responding to Shaw's flirtation with more of her own, and flattery to boot. But she means it, all of it. She tries not to choke as she coughs around her response to Amora's interjection. The yawn was one thing, but the comment about Selene - the one member of this clique she has not met yet - caught her off-guard. She's not sure what that means, but it can wait. "Thank you for inviting me. And for the quick transport, Amora. Ever in your debt, it seems." And best acknowledged, in Suzi's opinion.

In the air over the center of the quadrangle, a crackling white rent in the air takes shape rapidly, then parts to reveal swirling darkness between, as air is displaced rapidly, creating gusts of wind heading towards that opening.

Suzanne glances towards the rent in the air and blanches, her hand dropping to her purse and rapidly punching out codes into her smartphone. "It can't be ... " she utters, breathlessly.

The rent opens wider, a crackling roar sounding as the gap suddenly disgorges a ten-foot-tall robotic figure that moves with curious fluidity, landing lightly despite size and obvious mass. The sight of this particular figure, looking like this, will bring back memories best left buried on the part of Shaw, and ring bells of common description to any he has told about his encounter which so changed the direction of his efforts. "Mutant signatures detected. Scanning." If the look weren't enough, that voice, those words, should waken the darkest nightmares.

"No..."

Sebastian Shaw rarely if -ever- shows any outward signs of fear, but they are there now. Not panic, but even the ripples of trepidation passing over the big man's features are a sight few have ever seen.

The strange, fluid, mechanical figure that has appeared did the unfathomable. It nearly killed him, it caused the death of one of his closest friends. All that comes to the fore as he names this terror, in a voice as cold as death, "Nimrod."

His voice is tightly controlled, almost strained as he speaks, clipped. Rapid. "We have to act. NOW. We're all in -incredible- peril. Amora, hide us if you can. We have to drive it off or it will kill -everyone- here."

Planning strategy, it helps, a little...keeps his mind off the imagery which swims to the fore of his mind, of the endless expanse of space above, and the Earth, so very far below...

"Another robot." Amora says, frowning. "And a time-traveling one at that. Really, this is getting tiresome." Mechanicals beings pretending to be alive. Attacking when they should not attack. Refusing to bow to the will of their betters. Worse than mortals!

Amora gestures, seeking to end this fight. Here and now. Green mists swirl about the terrifying robotic entity. If it works? A one-way ticket to visit Hela. Let the goddess of death have fun with the robots for a change.

Behold! A girl approaches and Armand just arches an eyebrow, mouth open to respond to Tom and he blinks few times as he looks her over. "Pardon Mademoiselle but ahh...non, I am good. Thank you for the kind offer." He bows his head politely eyeing the young woman warily before looking back to Tom. "I /may/ have called a cook an incompetent toad with the brain of a retarded...monkey...but it was all in French and I would not translate and then they are going on the internet and looking it up and it translated to 'stupid frog with the arse of an elephant...'" He explains to his fellow student, adjusting his hold on his cupcake platter. "They let me in the kitchen now, I cut up alot of vegetables...made my apologies and penance." He reminds the other young man. "I have my part time job in New York still, so it is hard to make up for it...but if I ask nicely and perfect my 'pitiful drowned cat' eye look maybe they will let me make pancakes!" He flashes a grin. "In the shape of little frogs..." However...the grin quickly drops as stuff starts...going wrong and he's staring towards the center of the quad with wide eyes, lips parting and eyebrows raising. "...oh sex me sideways..." He does his best to avoid swearing directly as he takes a few steps backwards, and then a few more. "Please to be telling me that's just the new paperboy..or maybe trashman..." And he's quickly looking around to find the nearest badassed...superpowered type. This be some serious stuff.

Tom just kind of stands there for a few moments, looking up at the robot. "Well...nobody can ever say that Americans never go all out." he swallows hard, taking a step back. "Should we be running? I feel like we should be running. Perhaps screaming. Would you care to join me in running and screaming, Armand?"

"De nada," Amelia replies with a smile, despite Armand's nervous demeanor. French, obviously, and who can account for them. She looks over to Tom. "Please pardon me. Obviously you both must have much to talk about."

And then the air rips open, not nearly far away enough! "Que..?!" There's no missing the massive robot or its words. "Madre de Dios..." Amelia whispers, taking an involuntary step back. "I think running would be a good idea, si!"

"<%$#@.>" Suzanne Endo offers eloquently in Cantonese. It is the Chinese language best suited to low commentary and cursing. "Cybermancer incoming. But we may not have time." If the ever-controlled and calm Sebastian Shaw is this worked up, Suzi knows it has to be bad. And she /knows/ it's not from this time. "I'm commanding it to start scrambling as soon as it is in range, but that's not going to be instantly." The suit wasn't deployed, after all, so it is currently doing so from its case, left in the basement near the portal, along with the young blonde woman who was carrying it, who will be struggling to catch up with the fast-moving suit.

For the moment, Suzanne kicks off her heels and stands flat-footed, tapping the last of the commands into her smartphone before she prepares to run or dodge to the best of her limited ability. She is no mutant, but she has no illusions that this 'Nimrod' thing will care one iota.

"Dimensional shift detected. Deploying stabilization net." the robotic figure declares aloud, arms lifting as a network of glowing green lines erupt along those arms and spread outwards, connected by small green spheres, pulsing in a curious counterpoint to the waft of the green mists, Whatever that is, it seems to negate the mists' transportive abilities, and starts closing the rift in the sky formed by Nimrod's arrival.

"Source of dimensional shift localized. Initiating dimensional resonance pulse." Nimrod declares. The green net's pulsing flares start to speed up and become more intense, attacking a specific dimensional frequency with great and increasing force.

"It's a time and dimension-traveler, Amora." Shaw says quickly, "Sending it away won't work." his mind races, the thing's adaptable, difficult to damage physically, terrifying... he shakes his head to clear such thoughts, "We need to go on the offensive as quickly as possible, it adapts to attacks, they only tend to work -once-. Force fields, self-repair, we need to damage it -internally-..." what -hasn't- been done?! . o O (Dammit man, keep it together!) he thinks.

"It will try and remove me, I was the first one attacked last time. Sent me-" he swallows and forges on, "antigrav effect, sent me nearly into orbit." he thoughts race, plans, -something- "Corrosives! Eat through the skin!" he snaps, "Make an opening to the internal systems!" His fists clench and he drops into a fighting stance. He knows it knows he's here, he knows it will come soon.

"Well, that was different." Amora frowns prettily as her little trick doesn't work. "This is what comes of letting monkeys play with fire. Really." She steps forward and slams her fist into Shaw's back.

Let's take a moment, shall we? Amora's a gorgeous creature. Quite possibly the most beautiful woman on the face of the planet. What could such a delicate morsel hope to accomplish by hitting Shaw in the back? Just stop and remember. This vision of beauty can also benchpress a Ford pick-up truck without too much trouble. So, that little love tap just imparted about twenty-five tons of force straight into Shaw. "I have an idea, Sebastian. Keep it busy."

Amora's eyes flicker around the field until she spots... yes... that's the one. "You! Boy! The one that smells like trolls! Come here." She points at Alchemy.

Armand turns slightly to Tom and Amelia after witnessing...Amora's attack of sorts not...working. That really is terrifying and he gives a small nod. "Oui, it is my favorite after school activity but perhaps creeping is better...lets creep along and try not to be drawing attention..." This is where his dark hair darkens into a jet black shade on its own and he takes a deep breath. "Knowing technology it probably shoots lasers out of its eyes, spits out grenades and farts out heat seeking nuclear missles...so be very very quiet..." He's even dropped into a bit of a crouch, one hand gripping his rolling pin and setting his tray of cupcakes down as he squints at Amora calling Tom, leaning towards him idly to sniff. "...I keep telling you...you need to use my bodywash..."

"I do NOT smell like trolls!! What do you think I am, some filthy creature that never bathes??" he smells his arm just to make sure, then looks at Armand, now a bit disgruntled. "What do you want now that you've called me a smelly beast?" he throws his satchel off to the side so it will be safe, then walks toward Amora, calling back to Armand without looking back. "Don't start, Armand or I'll turn you to lead!"

"Oh, this is so very not-good..." Amelia murmurs, watching Armand creedp away. It's good advice, really. It's /very/ good advice. But following it would mean leaving all these students at the mercy of what the older man is calling, if not in those precise words, a ruthless mass-murderer nonetheless. And that she simply /cannot/ do, the peaceful little coward part of her that's gibbering in helpless terror in the corner of her mind notwithstanding. Besides, she's wearing bright red. Hiding for long would be impossible, especially since that thing /detects mutants/. It probably has other similarly advanced sensors as well.

She swallows and summons a power-seed as Tom objects to that comment about his hygiene, concealing it in her cupped-together hands and taking cover behind a sturdy piece of the local decor, waiting for the opportune moment. This would /really/ be a good time for her escort to show up. How long can it possibly take to park that damned car?!

Everyone present aside from Amora the Enchantress will feel an overwhelming sense of confidence. Any fear that was held at the appearance of Nimrod is distinguished and non-existent. What remains is a sense of calm and readiness to act and think clearly and not plagued by anxiety, fear, and stress. The Spaniard who had been gone for some time has returned. His gaze falls on all immediately present a boost in assurance and reliance on each as he stares at them. While not near enough physically to partake in the battle enough, line of sight is all he needs for his powers to work.

Posted near the Administration and dressed not in uniform, but just as lavishly in a black and grey pinstriped suit. His eyes are hidden behind dark spectacles. But one may see the hint of a glow, those who have seen the rare sight. His is pushing his powers more than usual. Oddly different and yet physically the same, Manuel de la Rocha has returned. Since he cannot engage the robot, he can help the others. Slowly, apprehensively, he approaches.

To any with keen hearing, there is an audible whine in the air, which becomes a high-pitched roar as doppler shifts reveal a fast-moving purple-and-silver blur streaking out of the dormitory building some hundred yards away, heading towards the gathering of adults foolishly standing pat against the robotic deathtrap now in everyone's midst.

"Increasing dimensional resonance pulse." Nimrod declares, as that glowing latticework net of glowing green energy expands, growing brighter, more intense, with wider interconnecting bands as a sort of vibrato enters the air, pressing tightly against the skin of only the one person present who does not really belong in this dimension, that pressure increasing, ratcheting higher and higher with every moment, implacable and nearly irresistable.

Suzanne Endo feels the rush of confidence flow into her being, pushing away the fear that wants to eclipse her intellect, and she takes action, activating the Cybermancer's sensors to sweep to area in detail, releasing stealthed drones to agument its capabilities even as it closes rapidly on her position. "Amora, if you can provide acid, I may be able to deliver the shock required to its exposed internals."

From a parking lot completely out of view, a dark-haired, dark-skinned figure in a long black trenchcoat - yes, even in this unbearable heat - comes sprinting at an incredible ground-eating pace around the corner, producing an improbable-looking mid-length rifle from under the coat as he bears down on the building frontice where 'Amelia' is currently taking cover. The weapon barks twice, releasing sparkling balls of light which strike at the robot with intense concussions which seem to oscillate in opposition to one another. "Not yet!" he shouts, seemingly to no one in particular.

It's a funny thing, Sebastian feels the rising panic ebb after a moment, it's still there, but seems to matter less somehow as his protege, Empath, reaches out and stills that emotion somewhat. But the anger...oh the anger is there, too. And -that-...he can use, along with the -additional- strength he gained from Amora - for he hasn't started the day from scratch. What with the giant robots about, he's been spending his days around Warpath's relative levels.

Quickly, he casts about, looking for...aha! Keep it simple - He sighs, "Pity, I wanted to keep this a secret for a bit longer, Suzi." again, that helps, keeps his mind off the fear Manuel is helping to suppress. He takes a step back and crouches, and his fingertips dig into the sides of a large slab of concrete, prising it up from the drive and lifting it overhead as if it weighed no more than a couch cushion. As he hurls it towards the robot with terrifying speed, he realizes he won't likely do much - or any- damage, but it will get Nimrod's attention, "Bastard thing, YOU KILLED HARRY!" he roars savagely at the future sentinel.

"... well... I... huh..." Amora begins to... flicker. As if she were a television on the blink. Or a computer monitor derezzing. "No, I don't think I like this at all." She mutters. Lances of green fire erupt from her hands and she thrusts downward. The green blades sink into the Earth, providing an anchor to Midgard. For now, she is stable... but it takes intense focus just to remain on the Earthly plane. "Suzi! Shaw!" Amora cries. "The boy transmutates! If he can get his hands on the beast..." Even her voice sounds as if it is fading in and out of existence.

Armand watches from his position behind...something or another, eyeing people as they display feats of strength and speed and things explode or something as he takes a deep breath and keeps his eyes on Tom, watching...waiting and praying.

"How exactly do you expect me to do THAT?? I can't fly or teleport or anything!" he looks at the thing and adjusts his glasses. "Unless I walk up to shake its hand, I don't think I'm going to get anywhere /near/ it without being flattened!"

Nothing like a surge of confidence to make a girl feel better, especially in the face of mind-numbing fear. That can only be Empath! Amelia breathes a sigh of relief when Bishop appears, feeling better already. She stands and hurls her power-seed at the machine's face, set for maximum concussion. Can't hurt to give Bishop, and coincidentally the others, some cover!

Without waiting to see what it does, she ducks back down and awaits Bishop's arrival. He might know more about this thing, right?

Shaw is busy getting Nimrod's attention, and that does seem to be working. Flying concrete will do that, especially when followed by yelling taunts at the thing. Suzanne Endo glances towards Amora's flickering, fading self and blanches. This thing can do /that/?! She hops into the air as the purple and silver streak bears down on her position, and suddenly they merge, the Cybermancer suit opening itself like a maw to swallow the Chinese woman.

"Transmutates?" comes the altered, digitized and amplified voice of the Cybermancer, as that sheer gleaming visor turns to consider young Tom. "Very well, then." She doesn't know exactly what that means or how it works, but she doesn't wait to find out, either. She reaches out to seize the boy - assuming she can - and takes off, flying right towards the currently distracted robot. "Get ready!" And here he was swearing he couldn't fly!

The corruscating energy spheres explode on Nimrod, tearing a bit of a hole in its outer shell. Of course, that hole is almost immediately sealing back over, the 'skin' of the robot's armored shell growing only a bit slower than Wolverine in the face of injury. "Increasing dimensional resonance pulse to maximum." it declares, lifting one hand to fire a blast of superheated plasma towards Bishop's running form, payback for the damages done.

The concrete shatters on the robot's body, barely leaving a smudge of dirt to show it was there. But it does earn Nimrod's attention, that head twisting about to stare at Shaw, hearing his savage roar. The eyes flare and blaze, a corruscating beam of twisting lightning streaking out at the mighty mutant, the neural disruptor unleashed against the known kinetic absorber.

Bishop dives and rolls as the fires flick at his heels, nearly incinerating his calves. Still he rolls up and twists around, firing two more of those blasts, though their color and patterns of pulses have changed.

Richenda's 'seed' of power strikes, its concussive force rocking the robot back before it can unleash an additional attack, though its arm - the one that was tracking Bishop - is now tracking across him towards Richenda's spot of cover.

Eyes glow as a man uninvolved, distant even seems to focuses his power on the major players in the scene now. He continues to press his powers giving them the boost in confidence and serenity to remove stress and doubt. Finally arriving into the scene, Empath ponders a thought and tries to come up with a strategy for how to continue to help in a direct way.

Little can be done at the moment to avoid the incoming attack. Sebastian is caught in the coruscating burst of energy. It crackles and arcs over his body, searing his shirt and vest to tattered, hanging scraps of smouldering fabric and playing arcs across his now-exposed torso. His arms jerk convulsively and he nearly loses his balance, dropping to one knee, his breath leaving him for a moment. His thoughts buzz and scatter for precious moments, struggling to cohere in the face of the neurological disruption.

The dimensional ripple rips through Amora like thousnads of tiny little knives. The magic she uses to anchor herself to Midgard sputters and then fades out altogether. "Damn it all!" She shrieks, throwing up her hand for one last trick before she is cast from the stage entirely. Green fire pours from Amora's mouth and eyes, hands and body. It flows forward and wraps around Sebastian Shaw's form.... and for a moment it seems as if she is burning him alive. And then she vanishes.

With Amora goes the flames... and where once Sebastian Shaw, Black King, knelt in defeat? The Sebastian Shaw the EXECUTIONER stands, fully armored and wielding a battle axe. A taste of the power of the gods for a man so used to the power of mortals.

Armand takes a deep breath and then another deep breath...no fear...then there's some confidence, right, but Armand is limited as he eyes Richenda and looks between the girl and the...robot and back to the girl and then he yanks the pin out of his bun, allowing his braid to fall free and...unbraid itself as he takes a few steps/runs towards Amelia, hair reaching out if allowed to wrap around her closest body part if allowed, tendrils shifting to a roygbiv (rainbow) series of color and he yanks if he can to try to jerk her out of the way and behind secondary cover. "Pardon but I believe you have upset the demonic robot...shhh...do not speak, beautiful mademoiselle...your shoes are quite nice, it would be better to avoid being burnt to a crisp in them, oui?"

"Ahhh!!" Tom yelps as he's suddenly picked up, holding on for dear life. "What do you want me to transmute it into?" he asks, "I have to think about what element I'm going to use, and frankly, I have no idea what to do at this exact moment, so a little help would be quite appreciated!"

Amelia pops up again and hurls another power seed, this time at the staggering robot's feet! If she can knock it down, maybe the rest of the attack will get through while it's trying to regain its feet. "Bishop, aim high!" Can't hurt to have help!

Of course, that means she sees that arm coming her way. The arm that's known for blasting things to little bitty pieces. "Dios!" She whirls to dash for another point of cover...

And then /something/ wraps around her left arm, and she's pulled away from the danger zone and back behind something sturdy; she can tell because she bumped her hip painfully on it. And with her is Armand, the annoying guy she suddenly owes her life to, probably. "Oh... y-your hair..?" she stammers dumbly, staring at him, and especially at the rainbow now encircling her arm, looking between the two.

Realizing the students present do not offer much of a chance and being primarily responsible for the Hellions, Empath assesses the situation and decides he will not allow this new generation of Hellions to be massacred. He switches emotions and targets. Focusing on the new Hellions, he removes his glasses and his eyes glow bright. His hands are outstretched and he points at Armand and at Amelia, "Fear! Run away! To the Hellions Complex!" Unfortunately he has spent so much energy, he cannot completely enthrall them to do his exact bidding, but getting them to flee would be best.

More Cantonese cursing follows, as Cybermancer flies right at the extremely deadly robot at high speed with her cargo of one transmuting mutant ... only to have the young man fail to do anything, flailing about with no idea what he needs to be doing. "Acid, you were supposed to change its skin into acid, to expose its internal systems." the altered voice of the Cybermancer explains. She banks away, her cloak spreading out behind her to deflect another coruscating stream of the synaptic disruptors fired from Nimrod's eyes. She drops off her passenger back closer to the others of his generation, as the Cybermancer analyzes the readings she has available, doing her best to scramble the local EM fields to confuse and confound the killer robot from the future.

Bishop fires more of those explosive rounds, though they seem to have reached the point of diminishing returns, hoping at least they will provide cover as he heads straight for his charge, intending to seize 'Amelia' and propel her around behind the buildings and back around towards that parking lot and the Beamer he parked well out of the way before all of this madness began. Almost as if he knew what was going to happen.

Staggered by a few attacks, tottering, Nimrod has still managed to banish The Enchantress from Midgard, sizzle away Shaw's jacket and vest and shirt and stagger the man to his knees. A blast of solid sound energy rams outwards towards Shaw next, hammering not just at his body, but at his very ears and the brain between them. "Sensor readings clarifying. The Thing now gone. Invisible Woman now gone. Human Torch now gone. Reassessing. ... Reassessing ..." What? What is it saying now?

Finally! A mistake. As he feels the power of the Enchantress race through his limbs, sheathing him in armour, placing an ehcnated weapon in his hands, the nightmare Sentinel has made a tactical error. Maybe it's from the damage, lack of experience, who knows?

Shaw's lips peel back in a vicious, savage grin and he rises to his feet as the solid sound assault strikes him. For what is sound but the transfer of -energy through matter-? Not directed energy, not charged particles, but vibrating air molecules. Kinetic, and thus, his to steal. Yes, the disruption of his brain and eardrums might have staggered him anew, but with Amora's power augmenting him? He barely notices.

He is off like a shot, easily 4 or 5 times the speed of the fastest human runner in history, the axe swinging upwards, then lashing down as he reaches the evidently malfunctioning robot, a strike punctuating each word, "GET. AWAY. FROM. MY. SCHOOL!"

Armand's quick to allow his hair to unwrap and retract, remaining at a length that's still past his knees as he shakes his head. "Pardon...I did not mean to ah, touch without permission..." He murmurs softly, peeking back around sturdy and cement barrier that's serving as cover for the moment, staring at the conflict and murmuring, "...damn, Monsieur Shaw is having the pecs...", watching Tom's flight with weary wariness before looking back to Richenda after he catches a glimpse of a figure that's on his short list of people has an issue with and he just stares down at the ground for a couple of seconds. "...come with me if you want a cookie." Before he's waiting for an opening and offering his free hand for the girl to take or not take...(he still wields his rolling pin in the other) "We must go inside...and pray it doesn't blow up the building." Then he's preparing to take off running, not with fear exactly but that determination to survive that he's had to rely on through out the years. "Mon Dieu...Tom...I swear if you die before allowing me to give you a pedicure..." Taking a moment to snatch up his associate's disgarded satchel. He mutters this phrase with some irritation but to infinity and beyond! Seriously, Frenchie is running for wherever Tom lands/is dropped to allow his hair to grow back out to wrap around his arm and tug before he's running for a place he detests but just might be the safest for now.

"I can't DO Acids! I can transmute it into anything else! Gas, minerals, metals, but not ACIDS!" he stumbles a few steps as he's set down, then he is towed away by Armand, fleeing for the safety of the school.

"No, it is all right. You... you saved my life!" Gratitude glows from those expressive eyes. "How could I be offended by that?" She reaches for his hand...

And Empath flexes his will. Amelia's eyes widen as the gibbering, peaceful little coward comes out of its corner and runs screaming for the driver's seat in her brain. "Mamacita... Madre de Dios..." She looks around in terror for a way out of this madness.

Fortunately, Bishop reaches her before she sees one. Unfortunately, at least for his eardrums, she screams when he roughly catches hold of her and pushes her towards the parking lot. It's a moment before her brain catches up through the fog of fear and realizes he's directing her towards the car, the wonderful, wonderful Beamer sport coupe that's going to get them out of here! She catches his hand and runs with a will, matching distance for distance.

With the Hellions rushing for protection of the school, Manuel knows that may not be enough but it is time for the adults to resume the matter to protect the next generation. And so, with the others fleeing, and his will almost spent. Time for another rush of confidence to the adults, confident and calm, he attempts to sway over Bishop, Suzi, and Shaw.

With his power spent, Empath passes out.

Shaw's seemingly reckless charge covers the distance with seemingly impossible alacrity, his momentum and enhanced might almost beyond measure as those strikes rain down on the deadly robotic killer, cleaving into that armored shell that has refused to yield to almost anything else, going far deeper than even Bishop's futuristic weaponry could manage before Nimrod adapted to it. "Warning, critical systems compromised. Severe structural damage detected. Target identified: Sebastian Shaw, Black King. Enhancement includes magical aura of Asgardian nature." A sweep of the robot's arm may do little arm to Shaw, but should it at least connect it should be enough to send him flying away and require him to close the distance again before doing any more damage.

"Scans complete. Systems internally compromised. Unknown powered armored figure detected. Unable to compensate." Multiple blobs of superheated energized plasma launch from the robot's half-cleaved chest, exploding in nearly every direction, driving away those who might attempt to get close enough to do further damage to those exposed systems.

Cybermancer twists in flight, watching the students flee to safety - as they should - even as she also watches the ongoing battle. She has the sensor readings she needs, and she has no need to get close to that thing to attack it. Her fingers flick rapidly, directing commands to the interface which are then guided by the focus of her very eyes, as tiny wedges of solid light streak out from her gauntlets, weaving a pattern like a Celtic cross around the robot until finding the right openings to fly right through the plasma bursts and drive through the gaping wounds trying to close in that armored shell, slicing so hard and so deep they actually come out the other side, taking tiny electronic components with them as they sever power leads and control runs, sending already damaged systems perilously towards ruin.

It struck at the Black King. That has never worked. Not ever. Although Nimrod's goal was not to smash Shaw away, it instead gets a mittenlike hand about his upper arm and -hurls- him back. 40 feet away, Sebastian lands on the ground. He doesn't even roll, he just -stops- as he strikes the ground, regaining his feet in a moment, axe whipping up again, "You're making too many errors, Nimrod." he taunts, "I swear, if we defeat you, I -will- have you stripped down to whatever passes for circuit boards inside that chassis and learn your -every- secret." he repeats, nastily, "Every. One."

The damaged robot staggers as the blades of light slice through its body repeatedly. "Critical systems failures imminent. Activate emergence protocol." Nimrod declares. There is a sudden blurst of intense, rapidly-shifting electromagnetic energy, a pulse that would shut down nearly any terrestrial technnology. Then a flash, and the air behind Nimrod shimmers and crackles with white lightning, tearing apart to reveal that dark nothingness between It teeters dangerously, and then launches itself into that void, which snaps shut in the wake of its passage. Most of the electronics in a quarter mile of the vicinity are, at the least, shut down by overloads caused by the pulse. Others are damaged beyond simple repair and will need to be replaced.

Interestingly enough, the Cybermancer armor seems to have been sufficiently shielded to have survived that blast largely intact. Several of its stealthed drones were not so lucky. But their data is already in the suit's systems in real-time, and being reviewed. Cybermancer lands beside the Black King. "We should go check on the students, and then get a crew in here to clean up this mess before anyone reports it. We don't need these sorts of questions."

Still flush with triumph (however temporary) over one of his greatest fears, Shaw replies smoothly, even as the axe and armour are wavering, becoming indistinct, "Protocols, my dear. Communications went down, so a team has no doubt been dispatched to this location and is en route even as we speak. Amora will return on her own, I have little doubt."

He goes on, all business again, despite the grin, "I didn't see anyone take any real injury, but we'd best see anyway. A quick debrief, then I want to see any data you gleaned from Nimrod." Oh, how good to say that name without such fear!

"Then, perhaps a quick shower." heedless of his half-dressed state he reaches out and takes the armoured figure by the waist, "Join me?" he asks slyly, "I have an excellent holographic display we can use to see what countermeasures we may use against whatever has been hijacking all these disparate systems."

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