Event Log: The Stampede

[hadrielmods]

Who: All characters participating in the event
What: The event log for Stampede event
Where: All over the city
When: December 26th-December 28th
Warnings: None

There's a rumbling sound in the air early in the afternoon on December 26th. Whether you're new in town or you've seen it all, something like this hasn't happened before. Is it an earthquake? It feels kind of like a small one, and that might be endurable if not for the sudden snarling and gnashing of teeth!

As it turns out, these yet-unnamed apex predators are overrunning the city, ignoring their previous apprehension to barrel right through anything- or anyone- that stands in their way. Seemingly spooked by something, they are aggressive and violent and won't hesitate to tear anyone they meet to pieces... after trampling them underfoot, of course. They're so large and muscular that they may even take a few portions of buildings with them- how would you like to see one of these monsters crashing through your living room?

At least it's only these weird mammoths, though... right?

► This log covers December 26th-December 28th.
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► If you get squished, please let us know here.

Comments

[bloodbathing]

[ The effect that Ephemera's words have is instant. One moment, Maine's body language is alert but unconcerned. The next, every muscle snaps taut. Tense and furious and ready to lunge forward. Ready to slam the bloody blade of the Brute Shot straight into the other man's chest and push until he carves his way through.

Because it does hurt when Maine swallows. Not physically, perhaps; physically, it's merely a discomfort. But that discomfort and wrongness and loss dig at his mind, gouging holes in the psyche of a man who thought he was indomitable. A man who has thrown everything he is into becoming strong enough to defeat his enemies.

They're the same holes that, eventually, Sigma would come to fill. The same pain and loss that enabled the A.I. to begin transforming Agent Maine into the Meta.

Maine would like to snap that he doesn't know their names. That he doesn't care about their names. But he can't. All he can do is growl through bared teeth, low and inhuman, as he tightens his grip on his weapon.

Fun fact: as far as Maine's concerned, he outranks Agent Washington. The other man is his friend, but he's still a rookie in Maine's mind. Carolina is another matter entirely — but an understanding with Wash?

Yeah, Maine doesn't give a shit.

But before the Freelancer can move to strike, something big slams into the opposite side of the wall, sending cracks shooting up from the point of impact. Maine's eyes jerk toward it as he steps back, away from both the wall and the other soldier. ]

[requiemshark]

[ Yeah, that made an impression. That smarted.

Good, Ephemera thinks viscously. Cruelty is something he's learned. He might not have started out the way but he went by a different name once and that man knew the power of pressing down on an open wound. And sometimes he falls back into the old ways, like putting on another suit of armor. Even after a pause, no matter how long, it fits just fine.

He's not like Rodriguez was, doesn't kill things just for the pleasure of watching them break. Not yet. But sometimes the pain cuts in sharp and deep and he can't imagine doing anything but spreading the sensation. Making the rest of the universe bleed for the loss, for leaving him alive when his family is gone. Someone ought to suffer for that. Given time, someone will. He doesn't particularly care why. There's violence in the air and he can already hear the flames cracking.

Someone needs to burn. Ephemera imagines he can smell it and shivers all over. Meat and melted armor. It feels right. Feels inevitable.

The ground rumbles and something heavy smashes into the wall just as Ephemera's activating his flame throwers.

He glances back, frowning, but doesn't move. Why bother dodging? He'll survive it. ]

Get out of here, Freelancer.

[ Ephemera's voice has gone hard. He feels insane, drowning in all this goddamn loss, and Maine is right. There. Breathing.

You promised, motherfucker, you promised--

Do better. Drake wouldn't like it. ]

I really want to hurt you.

[ But he promised. And he tries not to lie these days. ]

[bloodbathing]

[ Savage and remorseless as he may be, Agent Maine doesn't kill for pleasure. Oh, he enjoys fighting. The rush of adrenaline; the crystal clarity of combat; the red haze of rage that he's allowed to sink into. It makes him feel alive in a way that nothing else does. When he's finally able to release the restraint under which he keeps himself every single fucking day, Maine feels like he's truly human.

But he doesn't kill for pleasure. Doesn't derive any particular enjoyment from the inflicting pain. There's no voice in his head egging him on and whispering all the creative ways he could hurt someone. He doesn't toy with his enemies; he just destroys them.

This man in front of him — this Insurrectionist; this enemy — is someone he needs to destroy. Someone who poses a threat. Someone who's pissed the fury-filled Freelancer right the fuck off.

That comment smarted, indeed. Crawled right under Maine's skin and injected the memory of vulnerability into his veins. Hissed his weakness in his ears.

The enemy wants to hurt him. The feeling is intensely mutual. And Maine doesn't have anyone for whom he's trying to be "better." Wouldn't change who he is — the anger; the aggression; the thrill of combat that his brain is made for — even if he did.

But Maine also has no intention of being crushed by a wall. He knows that he could survive it. He always survives. A bullet to the chest and nine to the neck couldn't stop him; a collapsing wall sure as fuck can't. But that doesn't mean he wants to get crushed.

He looks back to the enemy. Wonders if he can kill the red-and-gray fucker before the wall crumbles. Then whatever's on the other side hits the wall again, widening existing cracks and sending debris tumbling down.

Dammit.

Retreating is something that Maine is honestly really fucking bad at. He can do it if ordered, of course. But on his own? It goes against every instinct he has. All the things inside of him that are screaming fight. So that first step back is a struggle, and one Maine wins only by assuring himself that, if the collapsing wall (or whatever's hitting it) doesn't do the job, he can finish it later.

Maine's not a sadist. But he's not a forgiving man, either.

With effort, Maine draws back. He retreats. He leaves the enemy to whatever's coming through the wall. And if it doesn't finish the man off? Maine will hunt him down and kill him, later. ]