2020-11-14 - The City vs the Citizens: Breaking the Law

It's the middle of the day, so of course Byron finds himself here in professional work attire. Yes, that means he's wearing a suit. Like usual, it's disorienting at first, showing up at an unfamiliar location out of the blue. He had just opened the door to his car for Lilith, shutting it closed behind her before circling in front of it to reach the driver's side door when he was pulled in. It's no wonder that when finds himself in this place, Lilith is standing right beside him. As much as that is a comfort, knowing where they are... well, the fact that they weren't down in the casino's parking garage, getting ready to head out for a bit of shopping and an afternoon coffee made him more than uneasy. And with Lilith being pulled into this mess, it has him annoyed as well.

There were others here in this alleyway. Something about this place, just felt familiar. "Now what?" The sound of sirens and a chanting mob somewhere is what finally makes him realizes just what has gotten its claws into them again. "Not the city again... I swear..." With that look of displeasure on his face, he slowly shakes his head. He said that if it would keep from returning to this place, he'll help the City, so maybe that's why he's here now. Looking down the alley and then at the building surrounding the, he openly considers, "It'll be no use to us to be caught up in that crowd. There's a reason why we're here now, we have to figure out what it is." If anything, he's searching for one of their guides, who usually happen to be part of the rebellion. Someone to give them insight. Otherwise... "Might need to find a way inside one of these buildings."

SSG McCloud fades in leaning against a wall as if he had just pulled the 5 winks of sleep lean and jerks awake here. The first easy thing to notice is the yellow legal pad he has in hand that looks as if he written up several pages of notes or something else. "What do you think Jake? Good Tac... tic .. cal.. load..," and his voice trails off. The rest as your mind takes in the soldier, it appears he is fully tactical. Those that know Devlin, may recognize him, others.. well there he is, K-pot helmet, woodland digital camouflage uniform, full medic's bag, tactical vest with all the fun stuff like canteens, ammo pouches holding magazines, a 9mm pistol, and hanging off one shoulder a standard issue M16A2. The truly observant might catch things like the combat medic badge, jump wings, bayonet and the fact he's wearing black jungle boots. His face, fully painted has this -Not again- expression. And off course the name tape says McCloud and if you can read rank, Staff Sergeant is the rank showing.

At least Itzhak is dressed this time? Dressed, and a lot less high, though suffering from a multi-day hangover. He's wearing his Reinhardt hoodie, white with a brilliantly-colored illustration of his favorite Overwatch character, rocket hammer in hand, standing on the ruins of a cityscape like a badass. He's got an Espresso Yourself paper cup in hand, twenty ounce. And he's got first a baffled expression, eyebrows up, looking around--then he figures it out and scowls. "City," he says to Byron, like Byron doesn't know, and gulps down some too-hot coffee. The other guy gets the hairy eyeball from him. It's literally impossible for him to recognize Devlin like this. "Who the fuck're you, McCloud?"

Captain de la Vega's duties occasionally require him to hobknob with suits from Seattle. Feds, in this case. DEA and their smarmier cousins, the FBI, who are itching to get their grubby hands in department business. This, of course, warrants a suit. A three-piece tan Armani, to be precise, with a custom-built shoulder holster worn between the buttoned-up vest and jacket, to hold his favourite piece while on duty; a Sig Sauer P226. He's even caved and worn a tie, and those heeled boots that don't quite bring him to six foot.

A glance at his watch, a breath blown out his nose as he prepares to walk into the briefing room and.. he looks up to find himself somewhere else entirely. Hm. Could be worse. Could be the feds. He clears his throat, looks left and then right, stuffs his hands into his pants pockets and veers off toward the others.

"Fucking city..again.." Devlin says as he slides the M16 off his shoulder into his hands and pulls back the charging handle to let fly forward with the weapon pointing towards the ground. He half growls towards Itzhak with the infamous annoyed NCO tone, "That's Staff Sergeant McCloud. I'm your combat medic it seems today." He glances around, "Captain de la Vega, glad to see you here." as he thumbs the safety to make sure it is at the safe position.

Cavanaugh, in contrast to his sharply dressed boyfriend, is in Full Metal Redneck mode. Old black fatigue pants, dark gray henley, old army surplus parka, black watch cap, black combat boots. He's got that black Winchester slung over his shoulder, and what can only be ammunition in his pockets. The blue eyes are red-rimmed - might be lack of sleep, might be the haze that's been in the air - and the scruff has ended up a neat reddish beard. But he looks keenly alert, not in the least dreamy or high.

"Oh, come the fuck on!" Lilith exclaims once she realizes she is NOT in Byron's car after he opens the door for her so very gentleman and kind for their afternoon of normal leisure pursuits and blowoff time. She even throws her hands with flail at the air to her sides in mini-tantrum after the cursing agitation drops out of her. With her going a little ruddy red with irritated temper flush in the cheeks and that flail, she looks adorable on accident, but no one is probably brave enough to tell her that while she's pissy. Her floral blue and red dress, heels, and cardigan combo makes her look like a Barbie playing sulky, sexy school teacher... but the designer brand angry kind.

Really, she generally takes these transitions a little better, unfortunately used to them at this point, to varying degrees. Or at least as much as she can be. But she really wanted to eat and shop, okay, and after looking around, she realizes with the noise in the distance and the others nearby saying 'City' which 'instance' she might be returning to. Granted, she only was pulled in once, which isn't as many times as Byron or others, but it's enough for her to have two distinct opinions after her blurting, "Really, someone should fill me in as to why we are responsible for helping these assholes, but if it makes the Dreams or whatever stop..."

Perking up, she remembers something, "Wait. Do we get to blow things up? Weren't they talking about taking out security systems last time before it all ended?"

... okay, someone might be in a better mood now. Go figure.

Up into the city and away from the rocky beach, into the city proper at a brisk pace would have been his usual jog before getting to his gym. From the house on Oak, the twists and turns are a little different; even a few months in to the new house, new section of the city, he still gets lost sometimes.
Like clearly now.

Turning into the mouth of the alley, the brick wall in work-out clothes takes a few more steps before his jogging pace slows, his long brunette hair kept back with a hair tie, swaying to a still from his jog. Everett looks around at the collective characters, bewilderment clear on his open-mouthed visage, a light pant escaping his lips. "... oh boy," he mutters soon after stopping.

Byron's lips form into this thin line, adding to that displeasure. But he already knew where they were, so he will just come out and ask, "Pwill, was it?" It was an odd name like that. "If I'd known that we'd be needed for anything, I would've dressed for the occasion." He's not sure what the satyr expects them to be doing, but from what he can see, Devlin, at least, was dressed for the occasion. "A little notice would be appreciated."

To what Lilith says before she mentions blowing shit up, he murmurs, "We're helping so that I'm not dragged into any more of these Dreams. If that's what this is. Otherwise, supposedly, they mentioned lending us a hand whenever we need it." He's still dubious about that one. Seeing so many familiar faces here brings some sort of comfort to him, especially the assortment of military or law enforcement types. Then there is Lilith...

Itzhak does however recognize Devlin's voice. "Oh. Oh, right, I know you. Look, I have trouble recognizing people, don't take it personal, Staff Sergeant." Which he says with all the sarcasm in his cranky little heart. Then there's Joe, looking like a rugged mountain son of a bitch, and Lilith wanting to blow shit up, and that gorilla from the ice cream shop--Itzhak can't help but recognize him--and Ruiz, in that suit, god damn. Itzhak slides Ruiz a highly appreciative look, sideways from under his lashes. He's about to say something when his ASS gets PINCHED and he lets out a strangled yelp, jerking around and glaring. The coffee doesn't slosh in the least, stays politely put. Then he realizes the pincher is someone else he can't help but recognize, and his expression lights up. "Pwyll! You asshole!" And he hugs him. "What's going on?"

Ruiz was not, as it turns out, dressed for the occasion. Not that it stops him from brushing his suit jacket aside when he spots that flicker of movement, and drawing his sidearm. The safety stays on for the time being, though there's a little snarl when Pwill's hand meets Itzhak's backside. "You again," sounds more irritated than actually angry. He rolls his eyes, shoves the weapon back into its holster, and does a little double-take at both Devlin and Joe. Then ambles in a little closer to the latter, like the guard dog he sometimes resembles.

Taking a breath, "Soldier mode.. part of being a NCO is being a professional asshole, Itzhak. Sorry about that. Was going to be training some newbs today. I'll try to dial it down some. Guess you and your friends needed me here more Pwyll." Devlin then turns to look around again, "Hey Captain, I'd bet a month's pay that you are a shit ton better at the range than I am. Fuck.. it's issue.." He takes a breath, "I was on drill status at Camp Muray. May be you should be the one using this. If shit hits the fan, I'll figure something out back at Camp." He offers the M16A2 to Ruiz, "It will take a moment to peal the pouches, if your game. I've got the M9 on my side if your wondering."

Maybe he is high. The blue eyes get wider and wider, the dark gold brows heading for his hairline. A glance around betrays that there are others he knows, and he nods at them - Ruiz and Itz in particular get a fleeting grin. But it's the faun he can't keep his eyes off of. "Well, hey there, Mr. Tumnus, pleasedameetcha," drawls Joe. He hasn't unslung the rifle, let alone taken it off the safety, but there's definitely a wary tension in his posture. To Devlin, he asides, "Man, I'm glad to see you, and even more glad to see you brought enough to share with the class."

Lilith is on guard, if somewhat bolstered by the prospect of blowing up whatever security systems to endgame effect of whatever kind in this 'City'. Despite her little moment of mini-tantrum and maybe a little too much uptick of excitement about destruction than Byron might be comfortable with, she takes a moment to give him a small, reassuring smile aside. It totally says 'we got this' in silent conveying after a noting look around at who's present. Reaching over for the man's near hand to give it a squeeze, she pauses and squints with wariness senses before Pwill up and shows himself to make her do a double take.

She also stares after doing that double take because she's PRETTY sure she just saw a satyr pinch Itzhak's narrow ass. After eyeing the creature's breeches and being a little openly thankful with them, she comments, "I read that satyr creatures walk around with perpetual erections, thank you for wearing pants. Nice to see you again, do not grab my ass, I bite." After a look around at the surroundings again, instead of worrying about satyr erections and ass grabbing, she wonders of Byron aside suddenly, "I threw my purse in the car before getting in, so I don't have it. It had my gun, are you carrying, by chance, in case our powers aren't the thing we need?"

With apprehension, Everett stays close to the mouth of the alley. The lower appendages of their alley-host don't go amiss, not given the way he stares. When Byron then the others start to speak it's enough to pull the large man's attention from goat feet and to each speaker in turn. The swift slide of the side arm from the Po-po hakes Everett's green eyes widen and only his eyes move around to gage the other's reaction until its holstered again. And then there are more weaponry being shown and offered.

A casual glance given over his shoulder, Candy Hulk takes a slow, methodical step backwards. Slow, stealthy. He hasn't been noticed yet. Maybe the next alley over is the shortcut he wanted.

"Yeah, I got mine." Byron murmurs to Lilith's words. But that means they have one gun between them both. The banter about erections is only casually heard, it's Pwill's plan that he pays attention to most of all. "If we're already smartly attired, why would we need to.." He's about to ask as he looks over at Ruiz, then Devin. He's been here many times before and had encountered various types of people in this here City, so his mind goes back to recall several of those individuals, from the guards, to those seemingly in charge.

"Alright. Let's do this." With his knowledge of the City's citizens, Byron works to conjure up an illusion to match what he'd seen and witnessed, working in conjunction with the other mentalists. Most of the denizens here are odd beings, so guess what, to help make them look more convincing, the 'guards' are set to look like animalistic or anthromorphic beings. In clothes. The prisoners though are made to look ratty and roughed up, like they'd been through hell. Byron, himself, looks like a feral lion creature, all dignified.

Looking to push the others along, but standing close to Lilith, so it looks like he's pushing her, he calls out, "Let's go. Get this over with."

Itzhak looks like himself, but a younger himself, a himself with hardened eyes and a starved, wild look about him. It's his memory of himself in prison, though whether anybody guesses that is an open question. He even moves different, his half-sauntering rolling stride infused with menace. "Yeah," he says, and his voice is the same as he glances at the others, then Pwyll. "The other guy," he tells Pywll in an undertone. "The one was with us the last time. He's in there, ain't he. I gotta get him out."

Technically, de la Vega's not rated to carry the M16 as a no longer active duty Marine. But do Dreams count? He hesitates a moment, eyes on Devlin's, brows furrowed slightly as he considers the offer. He probably ought to politely turn it down, but the trouble with him is he's never met a gun he's been able to say no to.

"Trade you, then. The Sig's a better gun, never could get used to the open slide on that Beretta." He draws his own service pistol, flips it around, and offers it up in exchange while Pwill gives them the lowdown on things.

There's little of his Gift needed to lend him that air of authority he wears like a mantle already, but he contributes a peppering of dust and dirt and healed over cuts, and mottled bruises to a few of their 'captives'. It isn't too much of a stretch to picture him having dealt those injuries, either, the look in his eyes. The way he carries that weapon, once it's relinquished. Perhaps most notably though, the police captain now resembles an anthropomorphic jaguar. "Get a fucking move on," he snarls to the others.

Devlin says, "One in the pipe, safety's on" He then peels the ammo pouches to pass over to Ruiz, "Standard, six more 30 round magazines, full count and new springs. I'm good with the M9 and the knife, Captain. Besides, you want me using this more." He says as he first pats the aide bag followed by the bayonet. He then gives a few quick suggestions to make the treated wounds look better. "Personally, would rather have the nineteen eleven.. but higher ups make those choices.""

Devlin then adds, "My zero is.." and he rattles off some numbers that he calls clicks to Ruiz.

Joe's not entirely certain what's going on....but he knows the 'bringing in the prisoners' ruse. He's seen Star Wars, after all. So he plays along, attempting to look beaten and cowed, after handing off the rifle to one of the 'guards', as if not confident the illusion would conceal the fact that he's still armed.

Lilith isn't able to focus on just one of the illusions, she doesn't like mindbanger shit, reality is screwy with 'realness' enough for her tastes. But given conversation, reaction, and her blurry perception while focusing mostly on what Byron has goaded and powered into being, she knows what's going on and acts accordingly with a solid nod at the gun answering. She doesn't expect to need it, but there was that one time where she threw fireballs and they rebounded at the group, so... options, maybe, if she slows down enough to NOT sling powers with dangerous fury once she's up and started.

Pre-planning is maybe a good sign she's in the right mindset for this and not pissed and just ready to fight the world because she was drawn in. Lilith is also perfectly fine with playing captive prisoner while in front of Byron closely for him to wrangle or not shove at will. And while she's mostly focused on directive or where they're going now, she does take a moment to murmur low over her shoulder at him, "... you can grab my ass, though. It might move me along faster." Her eyes are quick forward and very keen on where they're headed, though, once they start, checking the positions of others.

Itzhak smiles, a little, to see Ruiz and Devlin doing their thing. "Glad a bunch of you military types are here," he mutters in an aside to Joe. And then he has to pretend he's not turned on by Ruiz's snarling; 'make me' is in his mouth to say, but, okay, save that for later, Itzil. He gets a move on, stalking through the crowd, sticking behind Ruiz and at Joe's side. He looks like and he moves like six-foot-plus of trouble and grief ready to ruin somebody's day. Repressed fury about to snap. It's a good thing he's got these guards on him who mean business.

He hears the shouts and cries of the crowd and the thud of people being beaten and his big scarred hands wind into fists at his sides. Gaze roving over and through the crowd, he clenches his jaw. "Every one of you fuckers is gonna pay," he promises under his breath, his tone throaty with craving.

"One in the pipe," de la Vega repeats, voice a flat, low rumble traced close on Devlin's heels. He nods curtly to the medic, claps him on the back, and then he's fully shifted to the persona of one of the military cat-guards. Orders are snarled at his quarry as he shepherds them through the streets, 'encouraged' with that borrowed rifle in his hands. If Joe gets prodded with the butt of it in the small of his back, well, he probably deserved it.

And then they come to a halt at those marble steps, with a pair of guards requesting their identification. He locks eyes with one of them, ignoring the harvester that's come sniffing around nearby, and slips his hand into an inner pocket of his suit jacket. Which has been fashioned to look like a rather more elaborate greatcoat in this Dream. The card is held out between two fingers, glinting as it catches the light, his eyes - golden, in the illusion - still holding the guard's. A flickered smile, full of long, jagged canines while he waits.

His retreat isn't long, not two words in and Pwill has his attention again. Screwing his face with confusion, Everett scratches his face with his tattooed hand after turning back, glancing to the left while he tries to remember where he heard that name before. Twice before. Or someone referring to himself by that title.

That chick with the hot buns, and the little kid that flew on bats. What was his name? Tom? Tim? ... Frankenstrat? Something like that. Clicking his tongue, Everett turns around, "Ooooh," and adds, "Right," to the advice about staying with the party with an upnod of his head. He falls silent again as a plan is offered from Horny Goat Weed.
Glancing around when the illusion is cast, he looks down at himself and his hands, "Uhh," but offers no further complaint. Orders to move along are followed, reluctantly, his long stride paused to look up at the large construct and the state of the city for a moment as if seeing it for the first time, because he is, or until encourage to keep moving by a play-guard.

So, Joe's been transformed by the illusion...and while Ruiz now has the broad, dappled face of a jaguar, the pilot's got sandy tan fur, the suggestion of a muzzle, and ears mobile enough that one of them turns to attend to the murmurs of his companion. Some other type of feline, it seems. The blue eyes are bigger, paler, darting this way and that....and under his breath, he chuffs laughter. "I swear they look like Combine. Makes me wish I had a crowbar. We'd win for sure." But he keeps his head down, his posture almost cringing....wincing a little at the occasional prod of a rifle butt.

Byron was now a finely dressed Lion with a pistol in hand, one which he keeps lowered to the ground as he's helping to herd everyone forward. The feline creature's mouth lifts into a smile and he chuffs with laughter to something which Lilith says. That expression of joy is short-lived, returning to something more stony and serious as they walk pass the protesters and other guards. Whether he had complied to the brunette's saucy suggestion, it doesn't show on his face.

On their way pass the looming Harvester above them, he keeps from glancing upwards, eyes focused on the two guards on their approach. Standing to the side, he watches the exchange between Ruiz-cat and the guard with the outstretched hand, waiting in silence, though he'll look beyond the pair, scoping the place out as he waits.

Playing his roll, Devlin looks like an anthropomorphic Cougar in full tactical gear. He growls out to a few people getting too close, "Stand Back from the Prisoners." with a natural degree of authority. His tone projects through the sounds of the crowd without yelling. To Everet, "You.. eye's down. And you," said to Itz, "Don't pick at your bandages.. better not waste my frak'n time I put into those."

Lilith is a much more model fake prisoner than she likely would be as a real prisoner. Briefly, she puts on a bit of show by getting out of line and bouncing in shove against Byron's lion-guard effect and looks all kinds of sulky. Also, looking at the others' transformations with illusion a little more solidly now, she knits her brows a little bit and sends a glance down at herself before deciding not to worry if she's been assigned some weird anthromorphic race or role.

Anyway, there's no mirrors and if she's been made into something cute like a bunnymaiden or something, she's either going to crack up or get huffy about it. There is a bit of a suspicious glance at Byron over her shoulder again, though, that is not for show, because if she's a bunnymaiden it'd be his fault. Alertness as to where they're going and what comes next is her general directive, though, it seems. While the group is rife with utilitarian and creative powers of mental and physical composition, she's just ready to be pointed somewhere to blow something big up. She's biding her time.

Itzhak is just keyed the hell up and ready to take exception to every and anything. His illusion is a little too good. Devlin gets a sneer in response to the order about his bandages. He keeps his big mouth shut, though, going sullen, way too convincing as an unhappy prisoner as the group gets through the guards and into the elevator and...what the hell is that derping along with Devlin? Itzhak eyes the thing, then breaks into a sunny and unlikely smile. "Think you found your buddy," he tells him.

A gentle feather-touch to his mind gains his attention. Itzhak catches the tendril of thought as they all wait for the elevator, feeling back along it--and shudders real good. "We're coming," he whispers, staring into nothing. "We're coming, hang in there."

The captain slots into the elevator car with the others, a bit of brief side-eye given the medic's familiar, but he doesn't so much as turn his head to regard it. He gives Itzhak a rough shove to maneuver him into place with a snarled stay that's thoroughly unnecessary. And then, up they go.

The order from Combat Cougar gets a quick sideways glance from Everett. He bides his time, his reply, waiting for the elevator doors to close before another glance is given. "I'm going to press more than my ass against your cousin's window," he mutters darkly under his breath. But his attention turns forward again, and eyes downcast.

Devlin looks at the robotic creature with a classic expression of -WTF- as he looks at it, then at others in the party, "Ok.. I guess it knows I am a medic and is supposed to be with one. I guess?" the question in this case clear in his tone at the end. "I know this may sound creepy.. but I was at this other world when this kid happy that I helped his sister said he had this.." and he stares at the machine, "older I guess.. puppy that was perfect for a healer. I swear.. it's a weird feeling that this is it.. that animal.. but not?" Yeah, not absolutely sure.

He shrugs and goes for it before anyone answers, "You with me?" He asks the machine dog.. medic thing.

Joe gives the dog a curious look, ears pricking forward a moment. But it's Itzhak's comment that pulls most of his attention. "Who're you talking to?" he whispers out of the corner of his mouth. Turns out this version of him has little white fangs.

Once they enter the building, Byron looks up at the ceiling, then along the walls as if he senses something. That's a sensation which many a mentalist should be used to by now, no matter how unnerving. With a hand firmly placed on Lilith's shoulder, he gives her a dramatic, yet somewhat gentle, shove forward. "Let's go, Prisoner." During this process, he gives her shoulder a squeeze before the shove.

He only notices the machine thing once everyone starts packing into the elevator, which is nice and spacious, thank God. He's not sure what to make of it and would have tried to zap it or something if he didn't sense something else going on. Dark eyes shoot over at Devlin, finding a connection between the robot and the soldier. Good, it's on their side. And it's trying to get all up in Ruiz's face.

The ride itself is tense and Thorne remains attentive and on the ready despite the robot distraction.

Itzhak rewards Ruiz for that rough shove with a snarl in return, lips curling back from his teeth. For a second there it seems like he really might abandon this charade and go after his boyfriend fists-first. It'd be far from the first time...but he's not a furious wounded nineteen year old, as much as he might look one right now, and he works up a smirk at him that promises all kinds of things. He settles, a little, and glances at Joe, but blankly. "Her," he says, like this should be obvious.

Lilith jolts more with the shove than is actually necessary when she's pushed from behind, but she feels the reassuring squeeze on her shoulder from Byron too, which centers her for the moment when she realizes something is following them rather closely. Thankfully, she notices Devlin talking to the little... robot... thing... medic following them with those... eyes? It's akin to a mechanical puppy, maybe, but that wouldn't really stop the instinct for the woman to try and break it out of following them into the elevator. She doesn't after a glance to make sure Byron is calm about the hanger-on, and he seems to sense the bonding or whatever.

Really, she's not well-equipped for the whole 'attuned to the city' or 'people' thing that most others have going on. But she doesn't break anything or go deprecating about how everything tries to kill them, she plays silent prisoner. In fact, after pulling in a HUGE breath that goes with her opinions about people just trusting things in Dreams or Veil-land as 'helpers' or 'victims'... she doesn't even sigh about it! But she does judge with her eyes just a little and looks at the thing like it's a tail-spy.

While in the elevator, seeing the -dog- is going to jump up on Ruiz, "Stop that.." Devlin half commands as he is still unsure. "And heel.." Worked with his dad's dog.. hopefully works with this one. And a few moments later, "Do you even have a name? Or are you like that border collie in Big Jake?" And then the doors open...

The dog familiar is watched carefully as it marches closer to Ruiz, and his finger drifts over the trigger of the rifle he's holding like he's prepared for the thing to malfunction or something. Then the BZZRT, and he makes a bit of a face. Whatever happens next though, the scene outside the elevator distracts him.

Leaving the rifle held loose in hand, he summons instead a surge of electricity intended to short out one of the mechanical centaurs' circuitry. But with Itzhak and Lilith having the situation well in hand, he strides toward one of the consoles instead and places his hand against it. And it lights up in a bright flash and BANG of glass splintering and metal warping, readouts turning to warnings as he pulls away again.

Ok, open doors.. Devlin quickly takes in the scene and seeing someone under direct threat, he just points as he says, "DawwWWG!" and then focuses on the dog mech causing a hip joint to burst into small flames and the leg pops off. The mech dog with Devlin charges to attack the security mech dog and gets knocked to the side.

Just before the elevator doors open, Itzhak's left hand slips into a pocket and comes out with fingers laced into a set of brass knuckles. He's grinning a thoroughly unpleasant grin, bad luck through and through. Grabbing Ruiz by the tie, he plants a hard kiss on him, murmurs, "Good hunting, baby," and lets him go, stepping out into chaos. And the first thing he does is go driving straight at one of the mechtaurs, left fist locked and cocked--and with a terrific CRUNCH sends his brass-knuckled fist directly into the machine's torso.

Once the elevator doors open, there's a war breaking out right out of the gate. There wasn't much time to pick up everything that was going on even if those mechanoaturs were hard to miss. He remembers them. Spurring into action, the combined powers holding up the illusion quickly crumbles making their disguises fade away. With so much going on, Byron also knew why they were here. They needed to take out those consoles. "Everyone, on your guard." Then to Lilith, he says more sternly, "And be careful." Obviously, they didn't want to be trapped in this box, so they are forced to pile out of it and seek out some form of safety.

As much as he would love to help put down some of those mechanical beasts, the first thing he does is lash out of the nearby consoles, frying its wiring and making the thing go up in smoke. His gaze will look from console to enemies to Lilith and back. Looks like both she and Itzhak were making good work of those mechanical nuisances. "Good work!" He'll call out to compliment the duo, but he knows what they are capable of and there's another one still out there.

The moment it's clear that they're stepping out into a warzone, all of that cowed posture vanishes. Joe's back at his full height, pupils dilating. There's only a beat to try and make sense of the melee, and then he's lashing out at the 'dog' attacking the woman....and somehow failing to do much of anything. Still high, maybe? Or just out of practice? Either way, ineffectual, and he's snatching back the rifle he handed off. Might have to do this the mundane way, assuming ordinary earth bullets can hurt anything hostile here.

His head lifts as the sounds of struggle grow louder, Everett's eyes open, watching the doors. And when they open to unveil the chaos behind them, Everett glances around to take a quick stock of what's going on. His gaze turns back to Pwill, wide-eyed and expectantly. "Aw, and I didn't get you anything, Billy." Of all the targets, the enemy of my enemy looking vulnerable. Lightening bringing the smell of oozone, telekinesis ripping metal, he figures the deception has ran its course. The enemy of my enemy being what it is, Everett charges from the elevator, he was in his workout clothes after all, and train collides into the mechanical canine threatening the one that should have waited, he presumes, a throaty roar following his heels.

Byron says 'be careful' just in time to slow Lilith down from straight shot outward once she hears chaos with the ding of elevator door and Pwill's permissive 'blow shit up' kind of tone. Her feet in her heels take a few quick clips forward to assess what to break like a dog set free from a leash to bite, but she's much more tactical than a mere attack dog for the time being, not yet caught in the high of her destructive, violent powers and battle lust.

Initially, she looks to what's on top of the woman struggling, but survey tells her that goo is a threat and she sees where it's coming from with a happenstance flick of surveying blue eyes, then double take on a mechanotaur. And that's where she aims, lashing a hand out needlessly to direct her violence toward the cannon launching aspect of the construct to prevent more of it. Then others pitch in and she can't help but hiss a little teamwork-bent compliment, even though there's far more to deal with.

"Nice."

Ruiz turns away from the console in time to spot a guard coming at him with.. the fuck is that? A shock staff? He raises the butt of his weapon in time to parry the attack and send the thing skittering aside, then brandishes the rifle properly and aims, fires on the dog that's charging at Joe.

There's an absolutely weird irony in the fact that Joe's first "kill" with this shiny new rifle isn't a deer or a turkey. For....with the utter failure of his own version of the Art, his instinct isn't to go for one of the shine's other flavors. No, he brings the rifle up in a surprisingly smooth motion, and plugs the 'dog' right in one of its lens eyes. The report of it is loud in the room, even over the noise of the general battle.

And his accuracy does exactly nothing to stop simple inertia. It hits him square on, and both it and he go skidding along the floor. He manages, however, not to let go of the Winchester.

Itzhak gets slapped with black goo, making him stagger but he keeps his feet. His Song roars, silent, like a calving iceberg, and manages to fend off the incoming shock but he can't free himself. Itzhak yells wordlessly in, for the moment, impotent fury. Things all over the room shudder and clatter, bending their ear to their Maestro, but he is trying to fight the goo and can't command any of them yet.

Be flexible in combat is what he was taught and learned. Devlin narrowly dodged the claws of this fast guard the first time. He grabs his baynet and attempts to attack her in turn with it. However, she is quicker than the martial artist is and delivers a major slashing attack aimed at Devlin's heart that is blunted by his body armor's trauma plate. The armor is battle scared for sure. The Dog attempts to jump on the Guard Captain from behind and misses the pounce.

Sliding over the floor to an eventual stop, Everett clambers ungracefully while using his thick forearms to push the dog's kicking limbs back from catching anything precious from the sweets shop owner. Teeth gritted, he grabs a foreleg and pulls, twists until the grinding of metal gives and the flailing limb poses a risk to him no more. "Stop," he says, looking down at the mechanical monstrosity, "chewing," his right big hand grabbing under its jaw to close its maw as he starts to twist and turn to be rewarded with the sound of grinding metal until it pops, sparks and moves no further, "on my shoes!" He grabs into the hole he's made and pulls out circuits, wires, tubes and copper, throwing them behind him while he goes in for another handful even after the mechanical canine's stopped moving and the light has faded from its eyes.

Oh, Lilith. She knows as soon as she lets loose on the first mechanotaur, she's probably going to get goo'd by that one or the next, it's just the way things tend to work for her in a skirmish-- she blows something up, something else doesn't WANT to be blown up, so it tries to blow her up, it's pretty systematic at this point and probably the source of her injury accounts and hospital/August visits. In this case, however, she's goo'd instead of hurt, which actually doesn't hurt her destruction range, but it does make her whiny as hell.

"Goddamnit... this is a new dress and... goddamnit, I can't move, it's in my hair, goddamnit, my heel is stuck..." Then she sees Byron get thunked and stops wiggling around and trying to fight the slung goo that's dripping from her and rooting her in place for the time being. After a tiny sputter of temper, she tries to focus, and instead of lashing at what hit Byron, she decides that if they're going to get to the Core and back out, this Goo is a significant problem for planning, regardless of what's standing or not standing at the time.

Keeping her wits together, she lashes out again with another sharp snap of hand and wrist to aim-focus technique while everything is hectic and blows the cannon on the second goo-threat before yelling to Pwill and trying to get out of her goo snaring, "Where is it? I just need to see it. The Core?"

It's pure an utter chaos out here and just as their first wave of attack may have caught their foes off guard, now that the robots and security sorts were on to them, it was their turn to defend themselves. Byron getting ready to send forth another arc of lightning, seeing as both he and Ruiz were making good work on the consoles, though he can't help but look over yonder at the remaining Mechanotaur and...

That's when he finds himself in a scuffle with one of the guards, exchanging blows, before the other guy gets the better of him, feeling the staff strike at the side of his skull. "Don't.." He says as an impatient warning, before the guard can get another hit in, he reaches up to block the attack, all while sending that jolt of electricity that he'd been manifesting, straight through the enemy's body.

Somewhere in the distance, he thought he heard Lilith cursing. His head was hurting right now, a hint of blood trickling down from the side of his face as he pulls himself up to stand unsteadily. 'We have to get out of here... He keeps telling himself as he trudges his way in Lilith's direction.

Itzhak staggers, heavier this time, as he's hit with another layer of thick black goo. Electricity flares around him, crackling, and sinks into the floor as he fights it off. He's bent near double under the weight, goo wrapped around the lower half of his face, silencing his shouts. Panting hard through his nose (good thing it's so big), he turns a wild-eyed hateful look on the Guard Captain and growls. A shard of black glass from a shattered console shivers to life and shoots through the air, aiming for one of her arms. Maybe she won't have such an easy time mauling Devlin with that in her arm.

Amid his dismantling of robo-dog, a shock spear is thrusted over his shoulder, missing him and snapping Everett from his reprieve. He looks at the staff and swiftly stands, following it to the guard that's finally grown some testicular fortitude. Angry, red-faced, Everett looks down at the guard and snarls, "Do you MIND? I'm busy!"
To prove his point, he throws the pieces of the canine in his right hand. But not to the guard, over his shoulder to the Captain that just talked smack, pouncing the large metallic chunk off her and across the floor. Everett's green eyes turn back from checking if he hit his target and looks down at the guard. "Now. You."

With a grunt of effort, Ruiz helps Joe dislodge the body of his attacker, rolling it off and onto the floor with a solid thud. Some blood is wiped off his face with his knuckles, and onto the thigh of his very expensive pants, and he offers the blond a hand up while trying to get a bead on the rest of the room. Pwill's up there fucking with a panel in the ceiling, and Itzhak and Lilith are battling some sort of goo, but he seems confident enough in their abilities not to rush in to help them immediately. He doesn't even acknowledge the idiot guard rushing at him, beyond a baring of teeth that seems to stop the guy in his tracks.

"Come on," he murmurs to Cavanaugh, helping him up even as he sends a dull thrum of seeking energy outward; a little electromagnetic pulse that finds, "Guards, several of them. I don't think they're paying attention to us." He frowns suddenly, pushing to his feet and striding forward, rifle up and aimed at the wall that's opened up. "Who's there?" is bellowed into the darkness, with that ring of authority that is no act whatsoever.

Joe is battered and bruised and he gets up, with Ruiz's help, like a very old man indeed; the dead 'dog' shoved aside in a clatter of limp limbs like a dead crustacean. That's got a whole chorus of old injuries singing for attention. He grunts acknowledgement, even as he smiles at Javier.

The Guard Captain is clearly a problem, however, and Joe's taking aim at her. There's the crack of rifle fire, but his aim isn't good enough. No luck at all. Only then is he hurrying after Ruiz.

"DAWG... Help her." Devlin directs the mechdog to Lil. He replies to the guard captain, "What's the matter, can't handle a combat medic? Get distracted from what matters much?" And with that, he managed to land a slash into the guard captain, "May be you need to focus.. and breath."

Have you ever tried to stand still in the middle of chaos while someone sprays you to dissolve mystery goo all over your body? Lilith has, and she actually... does quite well, considering the actual process and surprise of it. But she has the distraction of watching to make sure Byron doesn't catch another knock, as well as the directive and focus of watching Pwill open up that new core space for her viewing pleasure/destruction. Granted, it's massive, but there's that one focal point of blood, fire, and lightning in a sphere.

Looking aside at Byron, Lilith also knows what powerful things tend to do to her when she breaks them, but it doesn't really influence her decision process. Byron knows what she's about to do from the look alone and that's about how long he has to try and mitigate any damages from it, assuming it's even something he can stop or attend to with anything physical or mental. The glass shatters, and Lilith isn't hurt but she's suddenly startled and widens her eyes to tattletale with hiss, as if it's significant.

"... Byron. I hear Turner in my head. Be careful!"

Byron knows that he should helping to take the rest of the consoles out, but Lilith was trapped in some goo and who knows what else might try to attack her when she was couldn't get out of the way. That's why, he's heading over there to try and rip the goo from her. Or he would, if a certain robot didn't show up to help, spraying some sort of... he's not sure what, onto the sticky stuff. He doesn't want to shock the thing, because she was still caught up in it. There was very little that he could do to help.

"Lil, you okay in there?" He's not sure what she's feeling exactly, but he does know that the goo can sometimes send a jolt through people.

On top of that, just out of the blue, this menacing flaming orb lands right in front of her, almost as if it were trying to smash her! (in his mind). Who knows what it was planning to do... If anything! The first thing that comes to mind is to get rid of it. There's more than enough evidence that this is the reason why they are here, so with it hanging there, the only thing in Byron's mind was to destroy it.

It seems that Lilith had the same idea. Not that Byron knew how any of this would go. Once the hot brunette strikes out with her own attack, shattering the glass protecting the orb, Byron follows up his own shock of electricity, directing a hand out towards the unshielded power source, directing as much mental force to fry that thing.

He gave the guard a moment. Long enough to gather his courage and try again to hit the Brunette Bruiser before him. The polearm lashes out and Everett raises his left forearm to take the blow. Then, before the weapon can use used again, Everett takes it below the dangerous shocking end and introduces it to the guard's face. Suddenly, violently, letting the business end meet the guard's face. Everett keeps a hold of the weapon while the guard, who might not be cut out for this kind of work, to fall to the floor. The thug's eyes look over Devlin's way, "You finished dancing?" before he turns for the core.

This isn't like that long-ago series of firefights in Afghanistan. For one thing, the Winchester is a bolt-action hunting rifle. There is no 'spray and pray' option built in. So Joe has to gauge his shots more carefully...and as Ruiz is opening up on whatever presence it is in that other chamber, Joe's lining up on the fool of a guard who won't leave his boyfriend alone.

The rifle's hardly made for close quarters combat, but ...it doesn't need to be. Not with that painfully point-blank range. Another sharp crack of sound, and the guard drops with that leaden thud. The sailor's face is battered - that dog was no joke - but it's strangely set. Expression non-existent, but the blue eyes are blazing with a sick anger. They all may be only constructs, but still. Then he's turning on the sphere and lashing out with his power again, albeit of a different stripe.

The Dawg does just as it is told, working to spring people out of the goo by spraying the foam. In the meanwhile Devlin continues the life and death match with the guard captain, "Even Airborne medics are deadly, bitch.." and with that he stabs her in the heart with the tip of the bayonet coming out of her back. "Say hello in hell for me." as her eyes close for the last time.

Ruiz is focused on his task, and undeterred by the guard with a hardon for doing some damage to him for some ungodly reason. He shrugs off the attack, again, and shoulders the borrowed rifle. With a round already in the chamber, it's a simple matter of thumbing off the safety and firing off a quick a triple burst at the Core while Joe's taking care of the persistent idiot on his six.

Devlin finally notices he's wounded, "Fuck me.. now this shit hurts... man those claws were sharp." As it seems his efforts with his powers did not seem to help, Devlin slowly draws his side arm and takes up a steady cup and saucer. Time to empty a mag from the M9 into a big target.. can't miss, or can he? Not like he qualified the first time up.

There's a moment where Lilith literally has to smash her mouth and eyes closed while being sprayed with foam and slowly gumming free from the goo puddle and it's distracting, but at least it gives her a moment to shut up, re-focus, and process what just felt like a ding inside her head. While it was relatively minor in the grand scheme of things to hear the voice and sentiments, or sense the feelings of someone that is not present at the moment, after a grit of her teeth and the warning to Byron about potential head-consequences... she attacks again, letting more violence and power out of herself from the core to shatter into the animated orb, trying to blow it apart from the molecular source.

Granted, physics tend to vary from situation to situation when not in the real world, and the woman is practically bracing herself and wincing after the exertion. It's a bit like she's expecting to be laid low, faint, or scream from whatever happens next but... nothing happens. Except the destruction of course. And she can... probably move now, on top of that, despite the fact she's still simply disgusting.

"Did we... is that... are we kicking ass or running?"

After the snappy remark to Devlin, Everett sizes up this Core, squeezes his hand holding the borrowed weapon. Just a few seconds, then Everett turns around, hefts the weapon like a spear and uses his turning momentum (and just a little Glimmer) to guide it where he meant it to be, straight down the center. Any effects that come from his throw he'll easily attribute to the shocking properties of the weapon rather than fancy finger-wiggling.
He stifflens, after the throw lands and inhales sharply, only murmuring under his breath to nobody in particular, "Fuck. I need a smoke," after the passing of a second.

What did Lilith say? Through the crackle of electricity and the sound of gunfire, Byron may have heard Turner's name being mentioned. He'll have to ask her about it again when there isn't an angry ball of energy there. His attention is focused on Lilith for an intense yet brief moment, but along with the others, he hopes to put an end to this now, sending forth yet another jolt of electricity after the thing's already taken on so much damage.

What happens when they destroy it though? "I've got no idea." He murmurs, before his voice gets louder, "I'll assume, we'll get ready to run. But hopefully, we get returned from this place. Pronto." Unlike the others, he has no idea what the core is capable of.

For a moment after emptying the mag into the core, Devlin grimaces and drops to one knee for a moment as he changes his mag out and then hostlers the weapon. He seems stunned for a moment as he stands, "Anyone else besides me hurting? Or do we need to move out fast?"

"Sing out if you're hurt," snarls the captain, like Devlin and Joe's presence here is enough of a quorum to drag him kicking and screaming back into Marine NCO mode. He racks the slide on the rifle, prepares to fire it again, barks another order: "McCloud, cover the exits. Rosencrantz-" Whatever else he was going to say, it's as if his breath, his voice have been stripped away. Everything spins and goes black.

This time the Art succeeds, and there's a blue-white arc of electricity from his lifted hand to the Core. Joe's expression has gone strange, haughty and cold. Ruiz has seen that look before, decades ago on a dusty street in a village so small it has no name on most maps...and more recently in another Dream, on a younger face.

For a moment, it seems like he might grin at the result of his efforts. Then there's a beat where he frowns, like he's attending to some barely heard sound in the distance. The frown deepens....and then he's shrieking like a damned thing, rage and pain and disgust, and dropping the rifle to its sling to clutch at his head.

Oddly enough, the sensation of hurtling into star-lit darkness stops it, entirely. That's another fear of its own, but...one he knows. One he's confronted before.

Even the immense bulk of Candy Hulk isn't immune to the gravity of a dying star. He's picked up and thrown, catch staring while the plebs spoke amongst themselves. Landing with a loud thud, "Ugh," Everett tumbles several times before the high pitched sound of skin, thigh skin. Of lightly furry thigh skin squeaking over the floor, the friction causing Everett to come to a rest.
Eventually.

"Ow," Everett says once, with conviction, even before lifting his head from his sprawl.

"Doc's up but lightly wounded," Devlin calls out instinctively. He pulls out a bottle from a pocket and takes.. yeah.. 2 pieces of ranger candy.. nothing like 800mg ibuprofens for pain relief in time. He then takes a swig from a canteen, "Anyone else just need ranger candy to drive on?"

Maybe Lilith was right to stand wincing like that while trying to blow the stuffing out of something that's obviously a powerful lynchpin connected to the situation at hand. But the blow that happens isn't the one she was expecting, it comes a few seconds later in slow motion. First, she realizes she's goo-free and starts to launch herself to Byron to check him and his head where it's trickling some blood now that she has wits and a moment and isn't mindfucked into oblivion like she half-expected to be. But then the implosion of light turns to explosion of force and it knocks her off-course to the man.

... it's a little awkward to wake up on the cement of the parking garage next to Byron's car after that, of course, but at the same time, it's one hell of a relief not to be shattered like a star like the rest of the space seemed to be in those final moments.

Maybe helping people on the other side isn't that bad. But hell if she'll admit to feeling kind of good about it aloud.