Henry McCoy (mccoysluck) wrote in utr_logs, @ 2008-02-03 07:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | apocalyptic plot, bruce banner, carter slade, clark kent/superman, dalek, elisabeth braddock, grigori rasputin, henry mccoy, kon-el, sebastian shaw |
Who: Lots of People
Where: Around the World
When: Throughout the Apocalypse Scenario
What: Madness, Chaos, Angst
Warnings: Violence, Madness, Yucky stuff
In Bonn, Germany, Henry McCoy and Betsy Braddock were working together, helping an evacuation of one of the worst hit areas of the city and coordinating a S&R for victims. Apocalypse had come, and gone, quickly, but he had unleashed over a dozen missiles of strange kind here, and they had ripped the grand old city to shreds. Hearing about it, McCoy had set out immediately, Betsy coming along when she found out his plans.
They had been working for over 24 hours now, with little sleep, or rest, and both knew they would have to stop soon, but neither was willing to quit while there were lives in the balance. It was bad, and stretched thin, and as Henry looked around the madness, downing a bottle of water in a second of peace, he knew it was far from over. Reconstruction, after the finish of S&R, would take a long time.
Other heroes had come through, including a strange familiar man in blue, red, and yellow. but he and Betsy were all that were left here.
This was going to leave a mark, and he was not sure if hope was something most of these people would remember.
"Henry! More survivors!"
Betsy's voice recalled him to the now and he ran toward her, bounding over and around others.
Time to go back to work.
***
Kon was in a small room, dressing in a new set of triple layers. She had gone through at least seven outfits during this madness, each one shredding or getting torn and dirty during the fights or clean-up missions she had been in and on.
She was on her...she closed her eyes, trying to remember which city this was. Kyoto! Yes, so this was number, um, four, yes. Beijing, Scranton, and Oklahoma had come first. She had not stopped since Apocalypse had shown up, and each time she had thought she could rest, word came of a new attack. She hoped that this was the worst of it, but she remembered the madness caused by Luthor and Superboy Prime and she was sure it was not.
It had pushed all her own angst. all her self-interest, aside. There was a hell of a lot worse than near death, or being stuck in a woman's body, that could happen.
As she finished pulling on the new set of clothing, she chuckled at the S on the shirt she had on. Well, at least she would be in uniform, sort of.
With a leap, she was out of the window and headed for the next area of destruction.
***
Somewhere outside of Moscow, Bruce Banner slowly woke up, and then groaned and closed his eyes.
Fuck! He'd been lose again.
Tears filtered through his lashed as he slowly rolled to his feet, gathering tattered clothing around himself. He remembered it all.
He had been in Chicago when Apocalypse had come, and buying shoes, the first pair he had managed to get since arriving in Oz. He had just put them on when the wall came down, and pinned him, then he hard the screams.
He had tried to remain calm, tried to just stay still, but screams, pain, and panic added up to one thing; The Hulk had risen. And the Hulk had been mad! He had traded blows with the big blue madman, and then Apocalypse had teleported away, leaving Hulk to scream in rage and leap away from terrified citizens. This had started a trail of leaps and confrontations with law or military as the Hulk ran to Toronto, then Leaped to Winnipeg, Alaska, and finally made his way through waste and darkness to Moscow.
Sometime after fighting elements of the army, he had found a place to lay down... and Hulk relaxed.
And that meant Bruce was left behind, once more feeling guilty, once more feeling like shit.
He stared out the window of the room he was in at a burning city, and flinched away from the sight.
Damn his soul for not having a way to stop the Hulk, and damn Apocalypse for setting him free.
With a shudder, Bruce Banner sank to his knees and cried tears of helpless rage and sorrow.
***
In Cardiff, Dalek shuddered. Dalek felt utterly drained of energy. Dalek had defended the town Dalek was in, despite Dalek's self. Dalek was not sure why Dalek had done it, save that Dalek had felt wrong letting another destroy Dalek's enemies, destroy humans. Dalek was the destroyer, no one else.
Yes... that must be the reason, right? Right.
Dalek sat on a porch, watching people put out fires, and just felt blank.
Big Blue Man had been there, laughing, yelling and Dalek felt... mocked, helpless, ignored. Dalek had used all Dalek's powers and still Big Blue Man had ignored Dalekm. Dalek was alone, and yet, not, for other people stood around, watching Dalek and talking. Dalek was unsure why, save that maybe they wanted to kill Dalek? That was what Humans did, after all. Kill Daleks.
"Excuse me, Mister Dalek, sir?"
Dalek looked up and blinked at the little human girl child in front of Dalek.
"Dalek is not a sir, girlhuman. Dalek is merely Dalek."
Dalek was too tired to even yell. Dalek felt... worn. The girl held out something small, in her hands, a strange light in her eyes.
"You looked lonely there and I wanted to say thank you for saving my life. So, I wanted you to have Mr. Bean."
She pushed a small object into his hands before smiling and kissing his cheek, and walking back to her Mom, who picked her up, smiled at Dalek, and walked away.
Dalek stared down at the stuffed bear in Dalek's hands, and opened Dalek's mouth.
"Mr Bean? Dalek does not need..."
Dalek stopped, sighed and tucked the bear under Dalek's arm. Dalek was too tired to argue.
Bah.
And Dalek's eyes were not leaky, no matter what anyone else might say.
Dalek was strong.
Dalek sniffled as Dalek rested and clutched Dalek's new stuffed teddy bear in the hours before dawn.
***
Sebastian Shaw sat in his office, watching the news and thinking. The television showed scenes of the madness going on around the globe. He had been out there, helping. After all, it was good for his image, and, damn it, this was his town, and he was not going to hand it over to anyone, especially not a tin plated god-being with delusions of grandeur!
He growled as he hurled a goblet of wine away. Everything was soured to him now.
His phone rang and he picked it up, almost snarling before he got himself under control.
"Shaw here. Who? yes, put him through. Hello, Senator White. What can I do for you?"
He nodded, listening.
"Yes, things got tight here, but we are okay. Shaw Industries is moving to help in the surrounding areas near all our Headquarters of course. Yes, I am aware this was more than a disaster, but what can a man do?"
He listened, and in the privacy of his office, a feral smile grew.
"Oh? A bigger reponse? Congress in a rage? The President said that?"
He made a show of thinking slowly, then smiled.
"What if I was to tell you there was a possible way to defend against this kind of thing? A first strike and response method?"
There was more speech on the other end, then Shaw responded, speaking quietly.
"What is it called? Senator, let me tell you about something called the Sentinel Program..."
***
Carter Slade sat his horse in a little town outside of Oklahoma City.
He was smiling, having just woken from a nap, and was looking forward to helping more people after breakfast. Considering he had not eaten the day before, that was not too much to ask, right? He had started out in Seattle, alongside some crazy people with too many guns, stopping a mad blue man from ravaging that city, but he had come here on a hard Ride when he heard of the damage and destruction here, and found it needed help. So he had helped.
He was eating a burger and watching the news on a television outside one of those drive up restaurants. There were quite a few people doing the same, as the news was on, and reports were coming in of more insanity. An asylum had broken open and people with true insanities were loose.
Carter sighed as he looked down at his meal, then stuffed it into a sack. Well, hell. Guess he would have to finish eating later.
He wheeled his horse and galloped away, grinning as he did.
There was work to be done, and he was a Rider. Come hell or high water, he would get it done.
***
And far above the screams, the shouts, and the conflicts, Superman listened, hearing all the world below him.
He had been working since leaving Lois, and trying to catch up with Apocalypse. Since talking to Jean Grey, he had also been working on another item, on the go. He looked down at what his hands were doing, assembling the pieces of his project slowly and with precision.
He had been lucky to find what he needed, and to have been able to continue the project even as he aided across the globe in the crisis. If he was luckier still, it would be done by this evening.
As he worked, he heard another scream and looked that way, and saw an entire section of Covington, Virginia blow as a plant exploded. Without hesitation, his project was in the bag at his waist and he was arrowing down into the atmosphere and toward the fires.
He would do this, he would save people, and he would stop this madman. Or someone would stop him.
Somehow.
Superman sped toward the disaster, the phantom zone projector still far from done as it swung in the bag attached to his belt.
***
He whimpered, rocking in his room. He was strapped in a makeshift straight jacket, of his own design, in a room with as much adding as he could add. He cried out as waves of madness assailed his mind and he shuddered as he held on to the edges of sanity.
Or, well, lesser insanity.
He was never the most sane of men, ever, and he had been dark and darker in his time, but he had been ordered, asked, and told to keep out of this by his Lady, and by her Sister. And he was trying. Oh Gods, he was trying so hard...
He chewed on his cheeks as the voices shouted in his mind, madness and destruction, killing and rapine, fear! All of it were his tools, all of it, he had cast around the world, and all of it was calling to him now.
He screamed as he tried to resist, remembering those eyes, and remembering Her voice.
Alone in his house, Grigori Rasputin screamed, fighting a losing battle against his demons.