Feline Problem Solving Techniques
- Thread starter We Just Write
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My guess is politeness and a big stick will be the root of diplomacy here. Looking forward to more!
Tense Negotiations
We Just Write
Blatantly Plural
- Location
- New England
- Pronouns
- Plural
Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have willingly come within a hundred meters of the PRT building. These were not normal circumstances. Barely a day after I'd finished with that very rapid moving of home, Dinah contacted me and Taylor with a very important warning: Within two weeks, the Slaughterhouse Nine would be coming to Brockton Bay. Though fortunately it would take them at least a week to get here, giving us some preparation time.
After another impromptu strategy meeting at the ice cream stand, I'd explained that there were a couple members of the Slaughterhouse Nine I simply couldn't deal with. In addition, their specific operating procedures made the possibility of intercepting them on my own rather dubious. So, reluctantly, I found myself approaching the PRT for help.
I'll be honest, I'd fully expected to get foamed where I stood, even though I'd come unarmed and without my gear on. It was honestly rather surprising when that didn't happen. Instead, a quartet of armed PRT agents showed up and said,
"This way, please."
We obligingly followed them, soon coming to a meeting room with Miss Militia, Battery, and a man who's name tag identified him as Deputy Director Renick.
"Please, sit down."
I did so, making sure to keep my hands on my lap, instead of on the table or armrests.
"So. What are you doing here, Safari?"
I blinked. I didn't much like the name the PRT had stuck me with, but I had bigger problems right now.
"Dinah here is a very powerful predictive modeler. She's determined that the Slaughterhouse Nine will be arriving in Brockton Bay within two weeks, though we've got a week to prepare. I don't think I can fully intercept them and prevent civilian casualties on my own. Not even with Taylor's help."
There was a moment of complete and utter silence, before Deputy Director Renick turned to Dinah.
"Is that true? Are the Slaughterhouse Nine really coming to Brockton Bay?"
Dinah nodded emphatically,
"Yes. Yes they are. They're most likely to arrive next week Monday, but there's significant chances of them taking a few extra days. Also about a 10% chance of arriving Sunday."
And that's how I found myself in a PRT/Protectorate/Wards strategy meeting, headed by Emily Piggot. Who was giving me an incredibly blatant stink eye. Taylor and Dinah had also come along. There was some basic summary of the situation as we knew it, along with the fact that I would really prefer to use my real name - Catherine AKA Cat - rather than being called Safari.
Then we started discussing how exactly to deal with the Nine as they arrived.
"Shatterbird needs to be killed before she starts singing; that's how the Nine cause the majority of their civilian casualties. Also, Jack Slash needs to be sniped by either myself or an un-powered marksman. I'm willing and able to take either role."
That's when Emily Piggot fired back,
"And what makes you think you'll be doing anything other than sitting this one out in a cell?"
I blinked.
"I understand that you really don't like me, and even have a pretty good idea as to why. But the fact of the matter is that Jack Slash has a non-obvious power that lets him get subconscious cues on what nearby Parahumans are thinking. That's how he keeps dodging hits on him and has such a high success rate at recruiting people who shouldn't want anything to do with him. I'm immune to that, and have very good aim with a very powerful gun."
"Convenient."
I shook my head,
"It's really not. I can't be healed by Panacea, and powers that are normally Manton-limited are extremely dangerous to me. As an example, Vista could splatter me all over the scenery without even noticing, if I were in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Vista herself seemed slightly ill at that thought, but I'd made my point.
"Speaking of Manton, that reminds me. The Siberian is a projection of William Manton. Off him, and the Siberian disappears. He should be somewhere near the battle in a pedo van."
Armsmaster asked in a skeptical tone of voice,
"How exactly do you know all this?"
"You wouldn't believe the real answer if I told you, so let's go with the convenient fiction of an extremely specialized Thinker power."
There was a brief pause, before I continued.
"That said, I'm not omniscient. I don't know if Bonesaw's pathogen deadman switch is entirely within her body, or if she's made a habit of stashing disease bombs everywhere. That's why I'm most emphatically not going to engage her unless literally forced."
"I also don't really have any good options for Crawler. I don't know if going nuclear on him will work, there's no way in hell I'm going to willingly conjure antimatter again, and my only other option that could do the job would have even worse collateral damage. Which is why I'm saving it for Endbringers."
Director Piggot probably wasn't even aware of it, but her expression softened slightly. It seemed that admitting my limits won me a tiny amount of respect. Then she took charge.
"Right. In that case, I'll be forming a total of six marksman teams for killing susceptible members of the Slaughterhouse Nine. Miss Militia, you'll be on marksman team one, with Shatterbird as your primary target. Catherine, I'm putting you on marksman team two, with Jack Slash as your primary target. Teams three through six will be un-powered personnel."
I saluted in synch with Miss Militia, before replying,
"Yes, Ma'am."
Director Piggot nodded, then continued,
"As for what the rest of you are doing, that still needs to be firmed up. I expect we'll get more information on the Nine as we get closer. We might even be able to intercept them before they enter the city."
Dinah spoke up,
"I can help with that! I figured out exactly what car Bakuda was going to be driving and what routes she'd be taking; that's why Taylor and Cat had such an easy time intercepting her! Now she can't kill the hundreds of civilians she would have otherwise!"
After another impromptu strategy meeting at the ice cream stand, I'd explained that there were a couple members of the Slaughterhouse Nine I simply couldn't deal with. In addition, their specific operating procedures made the possibility of intercepting them on my own rather dubious. So, reluctantly, I found myself approaching the PRT for help.
I'll be honest, I'd fully expected to get foamed where I stood, even though I'd come unarmed and without my gear on. It was honestly rather surprising when that didn't happen. Instead, a quartet of armed PRT agents showed up and said,
"This way, please."
We obligingly followed them, soon coming to a meeting room with Miss Militia, Battery, and a man who's name tag identified him as Deputy Director Renick.
"Please, sit down."
I did so, making sure to keep my hands on my lap, instead of on the table or armrests.
"So. What are you doing here, Safari?"
I blinked. I didn't much like the name the PRT had stuck me with, but I had bigger problems right now.
"Dinah here is a very powerful predictive modeler. She's determined that the Slaughterhouse Nine will be arriving in Brockton Bay within two weeks, though we've got a week to prepare. I don't think I can fully intercept them and prevent civilian casualties on my own. Not even with Taylor's help."
There was a moment of complete and utter silence, before Deputy Director Renick turned to Dinah.
"Is that true? Are the Slaughterhouse Nine really coming to Brockton Bay?"
Dinah nodded emphatically,
"Yes. Yes they are. They're most likely to arrive next week Monday, but there's significant chances of them taking a few extra days. Also about a 10% chance of arriving Sunday."
And that's how I found myself in a PRT/Protectorate/Wards strategy meeting, headed by Emily Piggot. Who was giving me an incredibly blatant stink eye. Taylor and Dinah had also come along. There was some basic summary of the situation as we knew it, along with the fact that I would really prefer to use my real name - Catherine AKA Cat - rather than being called Safari.
Then we started discussing how exactly to deal with the Nine as they arrived.
"Shatterbird needs to be killed before she starts singing; that's how the Nine cause the majority of their civilian casualties. Also, Jack Slash needs to be sniped by either myself or an un-powered marksman. I'm willing and able to take either role."
That's when Emily Piggot fired back,
"And what makes you think you'll be doing anything other than sitting this one out in a cell?"
I blinked.
"I understand that you really don't like me, and even have a pretty good idea as to why. But the fact of the matter is that Jack Slash has a non-obvious power that lets him get subconscious cues on what nearby Parahumans are thinking. That's how he keeps dodging hits on him and has such a high success rate at recruiting people who shouldn't want anything to do with him. I'm immune to that, and have very good aim with a very powerful gun."
"Convenient."
I shook my head,
"It's really not. I can't be healed by Panacea, and powers that are normally Manton-limited are extremely dangerous to me. As an example, Vista could splatter me all over the scenery without even noticing, if I were in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Vista herself seemed slightly ill at that thought, but I'd made my point.
"Speaking of Manton, that reminds me. The Siberian is a projection of William Manton. Off him, and the Siberian disappears. He should be somewhere near the battle in a pedo van."
Armsmaster asked in a skeptical tone of voice,
"How exactly do you know all this?"
"You wouldn't believe the real answer if I told you, so let's go with the convenient fiction of an extremely specialized Thinker power."
There was a brief pause, before I continued.
"That said, I'm not omniscient. I don't know if Bonesaw's pathogen deadman switch is entirely within her body, or if she's made a habit of stashing disease bombs everywhere. That's why I'm most emphatically not going to engage her unless literally forced."
"I also don't really have any good options for Crawler. I don't know if going nuclear on him will work, there's no way in hell I'm going to willingly conjure antimatter again, and my only other option that could do the job would have even worse collateral damage. Which is why I'm saving it for Endbringers."
Director Piggot probably wasn't even aware of it, but her expression softened slightly. It seemed that admitting my limits won me a tiny amount of respect. Then she took charge.
"Right. In that case, I'll be forming a total of six marksman teams for killing susceptible members of the Slaughterhouse Nine. Miss Militia, you'll be on marksman team one, with Shatterbird as your primary target. Catherine, I'm putting you on marksman team two, with Jack Slash as your primary target. Teams three through six will be un-powered personnel."
I saluted in synch with Miss Militia, before replying,
"Yes, Ma'am."
Director Piggot nodded, then continued,
"As for what the rest of you are doing, that still needs to be firmed up. I expect we'll get more information on the Nine as we get closer. We might even be able to intercept them before they enter the city."
Dinah spoke up,
"I can help with that! I figured out exactly what car Bakuda was going to be driving and what routes she'd be taking; that's why Taylor and Cat had such an easy time intercepting her! Now she can't kill the hundreds of civilians she would have otherwise!"
Yeah, the S9 is a good excuse to negotiate!
Dunah piping in at the end was pretty funny too.
Dunah piping in at the end was pretty funny too.
Light
A world without Light would be Dark.
- Location
- United States
You don't know how right you are, Triumph.
Now you do, thanks Dinah!
Interlude: The House That Jack Built
We Just Write
Blatantly Plural
- Location
- New England
- Pronouns
- Plural
"Jack, why are we going to Brockton Bay again?"
Jack Slash turned to Shatterbird, a grin on his face. "Why, to find out who set off that lovely explosion at the Medhall building of course! After all, someone like that will be a perfect fit in our little family."
In truth, Jack was getting very mixed messages from his instincts. About Brockton Bay on the whole he was getting a distinct feeling of forboding, but he wasn't feeling anything like that about the killer who'd been turning Brockton Bay into their personal playground.
After some thought on this, Jack pulled over by the side of the road. "I think we should probably split up and lay low until just before we leave. Take a page from our soon-to-be new friend's playbook and only hit once we're fully prepared to leave them behind with the damage."
Bonesaw piped up from the back of the RV, "That sounds like fun! I'm getting all sorts of ideas for things I can do already. Maybe zombies? Hmm, no, that'll get samey. Need some more time to think on it."
"Well, it's about time for bed. You'll have plenty of time to think on it while you sleep."
Starting the next day, Jack couldn't help the feeling of being watched. So he "traded" RVs with an unfortunate civilian, and significantly increased the convolution of his route. After a few hours, the feeling of being watched faded away.
The very next day, the feeling of being watched had returned in full force, prompting another vehicle switch. This pattern continued until the group split up into four different cars a few hours drive from Brockton Bay, at which point the feeling of being watched abruptly stopped.
Breathe in, breathe out. Whoever the mystery stalker was, Jack had finally lost them. Soon, he'd recruit Brockton Bay's new talent, and then he'd never need to bother with the city again.
The car Jack was driving had just crossed Brockton Bay's city limits, before suddenly there was a horrible noise and what sounded like an explosion from under the hood. In less than a minute, Jack Slash found himself coasting to a stop. This was clearly bad, but the instincts he'd grown to rely on were dead silent.
Reluctantly, Jack Slash got out of the car. Then he felt his chest cave in, even as he heard an ear-splitting crack from a very large bullet. With his spine and ribcage utterly shattered by the force of the shot, Jack Slash fell to the ground.
Dimly, the unrepentant murderer heard the footsteps of another unrepentant murderer approaching. Then he was shot in the head, a .700 Nitro Express expanding round splattering his brain across the pavement.
By some miracle of Bonesaw, Jack Slash was still barely conscious, some backup system or other substituting for his now destroyed brain. That's how he was able to to hear the brief conversation that followed.
"Cat, he's got to be dead after that. Shouldn't we call it in?"
"I'm not taking any chances Ernest, now hand me the ten gallon bucket of Thermite."
Jack Slash turned to Shatterbird, a grin on his face. "Why, to find out who set off that lovely explosion at the Medhall building of course! After all, someone like that will be a perfect fit in our little family."
In truth, Jack was getting very mixed messages from his instincts. About Brockton Bay on the whole he was getting a distinct feeling of forboding, but he wasn't feeling anything like that about the killer who'd been turning Brockton Bay into their personal playground.
After some thought on this, Jack pulled over by the side of the road. "I think we should probably split up and lay low until just before we leave. Take a page from our soon-to-be new friend's playbook and only hit once we're fully prepared to leave them behind with the damage."
Bonesaw piped up from the back of the RV, "That sounds like fun! I'm getting all sorts of ideas for things I can do already. Maybe zombies? Hmm, no, that'll get samey. Need some more time to think on it."
"Well, it's about time for bed. You'll have plenty of time to think on it while you sleep."
Starting the next day, Jack couldn't help the feeling of being watched. So he "traded" RVs with an unfortunate civilian, and significantly increased the convolution of his route. After a few hours, the feeling of being watched faded away.
The very next day, the feeling of being watched had returned in full force, prompting another vehicle switch. This pattern continued until the group split up into four different cars a few hours drive from Brockton Bay, at which point the feeling of being watched abruptly stopped.
Breathe in, breathe out. Whoever the mystery stalker was, Jack had finally lost them. Soon, he'd recruit Brockton Bay's new talent, and then he'd never need to bother with the city again.
The car Jack was driving had just crossed Brockton Bay's city limits, before suddenly there was a horrible noise and what sounded like an explosion from under the hood. In less than a minute, Jack Slash found himself coasting to a stop. This was clearly bad, but the instincts he'd grown to rely on were dead silent.
Reluctantly, Jack Slash got out of the car. Then he felt his chest cave in, even as he heard an ear-splitting crack from a very large bullet. With his spine and ribcage utterly shattered by the force of the shot, Jack Slash fell to the ground.
Dimly, the unrepentant murderer heard the footsteps of another unrepentant murderer approaching. Then he was shot in the head, a .700 Nitro Express expanding round splattering his brain across the pavement.
By some miracle of Bonesaw, Jack Slash was still barely conscious, some backup system or other substituting for his now destroyed brain. That's how he was able to to hear the brief conversation that followed.
"Cat, he's got to be dead after that. Shouldn't we call it in?"
"I'm not taking any chances Ernest, now hand me the ten gallon bucket of Thermite."
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- Pronouns
- Male
That last line! .... also is Ernest a reference to that one dude who took out the nine with suicidal c4?
We Just Write
Blatantly Plural
- Location
- New England
- Pronouns
- Plural
R: Any name matching is purely coincidental.
- Pronouns
- Male
I guess you could say he hit the road and didn't come back no more?
- Location
- England
The printer can probably be uniquely identified from the message, although that would only be useful if the MC was already on a short list of suspects. Some printers are explicitly designed to include faint marks on printouts while the combination of paper, ink and slight wear and tear naturally varies from one printer to the next.
If the message (paper and text) was conjured ab inito then it would still probably give something away just by NOT including any markings or earmarks.
I feel very slightly sad for Purity, but she would have been a huge risk.
That's a very risky play. I'd say it's one person's word against another's, but Emma didn't even get to speak. You can't just tase someone then say, "bitch should be in a nut house" and be sure the police will go along with it. Especially considering the risk that the MC's furry secret might slip out if there is any altercation.
Do you know, though? You killed Oni Lee so Lung's recent motives and actions are quite likely to be very different this time around. You also killed nearly all the E88. Right now Lung could be firmly focussed on a) finding who killed Oni Lee and b) expanding into Empire territory. Sure, he needs more capes, but he might not even be up to date on the news.
Literally seconds ago Dinah found out that her power does not work reliably in connection to the MC.
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What reference is this from I don't remember anything like that and it sounds cool.
Toskin
Bookworm Extraordinaire
- Location
- Earth - Solar system - Local cluster
In Taylor Varga, Nine was put to bus by guy who was out of town when it was hit by Nine. Having lost everything, he decided to pay them back, and with help of two friends he baited them on road construction they undermined with fuckton of excavation explosives, deadman-switched them and then dropped avalanche on them. Nine got TPK'd
LocalCatHybrid
Now I am become floof, the floofer of floofs.
- Location
- You know where...
- Pronouns
- Il/Lui
Except Crawler, who was elsewhere. But yes, it was a total party wipe. I don't recall the guy being named Ernest though?
Barbaric Bob
The Barbaric One
- Location
- Soon to be plundering a village near you
thermite does the job and does it quick, but if you really wanna say fuck you and your entire lineage pour some chlorine trifluoride on a fucker
pretty sure that stuff is magic and fuels itself on the soul of whatever it's poured on
pretty sure that stuff is magic and fuels itself on the soul of whatever it's poured on
We Just Write
Blatantly Plural
- Location
- New England
- Pronouns
- Plural
C: Chlorine Trifluoride is too hazardous to use.
- Location
- Pale Blue Dot
WAY too hazardous to use. That stuff burns straight down through wet sand, using the wet sand itself as fuel.
We Just Write
Blatantly Plural
- Location
- New England
- Pronouns
- Plural
C: More to the point, it releases hideously toxic gaseous carcinogens as a combustion product.
Welcome to Brockton Bay! Now Get Out.
We Just Write
Blatantly Plural
- Location
- New England
- Pronouns
- Plural
Once Jack Slash was thoroughly ablaze, Ernest called in with his radio to confirm the kill. I piled into the back of the van with the other three members of Marksman Team 2, then Ernest joined us shortly after. Now that everyone was aboard, our driver started us towards the southern rally point, to await further orders.
While the van bumped along, I heard the voice of Miss Militia come over the radio.
"This is Marksman Team One! We have a confirmed kill on Shatterbird. I repeat, we have a confirmed kill on Shatterbird."
I couldn't help but purr upon hearing that, which actually prompted one of the female PRT troopers sitting near me to pat me on the head. Oh that felt good, so I leaned into it.
The radio crackled on again.
"This is Velocity with Bag Team. We've foamed Bonesaw, but she's got an internal reservoir of the solvent and our foam supplies are limited. Requesting Clockblocker or more foam for more thorough containment; coordinates are Alpha-Three."
"More foam en route by helicopter; it should reach your location in about four minutes, so hold tight."
"This is Marksman Team Five! We have a confirmed kill on the Siberian's Master! We need medical assistance urgently, Andre's legs are gone and Kate's lost a lot of blood! Coordinates are Gamma-Niner!"
"Understood; medevac inbound from Brockton General. Should reach your location in about two minutes."
"Marksman Team Three calling, Mannequin bypassed our ambush point. I repeat, Mannequin has bypassed our ambush point. Mannequin's location is currently unknown."
"Marksman Team Four calling, We missed; Hatchet Face has escaped our ambush. I repeat, Hatchet Face has escaped our ambush. Hatchet Face sighted heading south. Coordinates are Gamma-Four"
"This is Armsmaster with Crawler Team. Message received about Hatchet Face; we'll be on alert for him to show up."
"Marksman Team Six calling; Burnscar wounded, I repeat, Burnscar wounded. She teleported away before we could confirm the kill."
Then Ernest called out over the radio,
"This is Marksman Team Two. We have reached rally point Beta. Awaiting further orders."
A few seconds passed, then Emily Piggot's voice crackled over the radio.
"Marksman Teams One, Two, Three, and Four, I'm sending you after Mannequin. Oracle indicates he's gone to ground in grid square Beta-Eight, so I'm also setting up a containment perimeter to make sure he can't get away. Happy hunting."
We all nodded, even as the engine in the van revved up. I unloaded the brasscase currently in my rifle's breech, and got one of the special rounds off my belt: High Explosive Squash Head.
We'd barely gotten underway when Armsmaster called in on the radio again.
"This is Armsmaster with Crawler Team. We have a confirmed kill on Hatchet Face; no injuries on our side."
There was a brief pause.
"Crawler sighted and approaching rapidly! Preparing to engage!"
I nodded grimly. Over the last few days, I'd discovered that I rather liked and respected Armsmaster. Even with the most optimal team composition for facing Crawler, Dinah had only given 50% odds of successfully taking him down. So I really hoped Colin pulled through.
Then we reached grid square Beta-Eight, and everyone piled out of the van to start searching for Mannequin. While he would be at his most dangerous in close quarters, this also technically applied to me.
So I found myself combing through a hotel currently closed for renovation, in hopes of finding a murderous cyborg. I'd gotten to the fourth floor, when I heard a suspicious rattling noise from one of the vents. I turned to look, just in time to see one of Mannequin's detached arms on a chain starting to dangle down towards Ernest. Yeah, no.
I promptly conjured up a whacking stick and hit Mannequin's arm up against the wall, before conjuring a nail right through it to anchor it in place against a structural beam. Ernest's eyes widened as he realized what I'd just saved him from.
There was an awkward pause as Mannequin presumably tried to decide what to do next, before we heard a rattling noise, and the remaining length of chain fell from the vent. Ah, I'd been hoping he'd stick more of himself out, but I must have given him quite a shock there.
"He's down a limb now. Radio in that we know what building Mannequin is in; we need it surrounded so he can't escape."
Ernest promptly did so, even as I listened intently to try and figure out which way Mannequin was going. After a moment, I was quite certain of what I was hearing.
"He's headed for the ground floor! We've got to hurry."
I promptly ran for the stairwell, shoving my ear protection back into place as I did so. Then I vaulted over the railing, and nailed a perfect landing at the bottom of the stairwell. I shouldered my rifle and dashed from the stairwell just in time to see Mannequin burst out of a vent and make a mad dash for the exit. I promptly shot him in the back of his torso, the specialized explosive round spalling off incredibly lethal amounts of shrapnel inside Mannequin's body.
Mannequin dropped to the ground, apparently dead. But I wasn't going to stop until apparently was replaced with definitely.
I pressed the talk button on my radio "Mannequin down in Bayview Hotel lobby, requesting backup for removal to street and Thermite cremation."
Later at the debrief, I learned that Crawler had ultimately ran for it after losing multiple limbs to Armsmaster's prototype nanothorn halberd. Despite the PRT and Protectorate's best efforts, he'd managed to make it out of city limits. Though now his location was being tracked at all times, and he was being actively pursued by a mix of the National Guard, the Guild, and assorted PRT-affiliated assets. That said, Burnscar's location was still unknown.
With all but two members dead (or captured in the case of Bonesaw), the Slaughterhouse Nine was finished. Good riddance. Now it was just a question of if the PRT would allow me to part on amicable terms, or if that wasn't going to be the case after all.
While the van bumped along, I heard the voice of Miss Militia come over the radio.
"This is Marksman Team One! We have a confirmed kill on Shatterbird. I repeat, we have a confirmed kill on Shatterbird."
I couldn't help but purr upon hearing that, which actually prompted one of the female PRT troopers sitting near me to pat me on the head. Oh that felt good, so I leaned into it.
The radio crackled on again.
"This is Velocity with Bag Team. We've foamed Bonesaw, but she's got an internal reservoir of the solvent and our foam supplies are limited. Requesting Clockblocker or more foam for more thorough containment; coordinates are Alpha-Three."
"More foam en route by helicopter; it should reach your location in about four minutes, so hold tight."
"This is Marksman Team Five! We have a confirmed kill on the Siberian's Master! We need medical assistance urgently, Andre's legs are gone and Kate's lost a lot of blood! Coordinates are Gamma-Niner!"
"Understood; medevac inbound from Brockton General. Should reach your location in about two minutes."
"Marksman Team Three calling, Mannequin bypassed our ambush point. I repeat, Mannequin has bypassed our ambush point. Mannequin's location is currently unknown."
"Marksman Team Four calling, We missed; Hatchet Face has escaped our ambush. I repeat, Hatchet Face has escaped our ambush. Hatchet Face sighted heading south. Coordinates are Gamma-Four"
"This is Armsmaster with Crawler Team. Message received about Hatchet Face; we'll be on alert for him to show up."
"Marksman Team Six calling; Burnscar wounded, I repeat, Burnscar wounded. She teleported away before we could confirm the kill."
Then Ernest called out over the radio,
"This is Marksman Team Two. We have reached rally point Beta. Awaiting further orders."
A few seconds passed, then Emily Piggot's voice crackled over the radio.
"Marksman Teams One, Two, Three, and Four, I'm sending you after Mannequin. Oracle indicates he's gone to ground in grid square Beta-Eight, so I'm also setting up a containment perimeter to make sure he can't get away. Happy hunting."
We all nodded, even as the engine in the van revved up. I unloaded the brasscase currently in my rifle's breech, and got one of the special rounds off my belt: High Explosive Squash Head.
We'd barely gotten underway when Armsmaster called in on the radio again.
"This is Armsmaster with Crawler Team. We have a confirmed kill on Hatchet Face; no injuries on our side."
There was a brief pause.
"Crawler sighted and approaching rapidly! Preparing to engage!"
I nodded grimly. Over the last few days, I'd discovered that I rather liked and respected Armsmaster. Even with the most optimal team composition for facing Crawler, Dinah had only given 50% odds of successfully taking him down. So I really hoped Colin pulled through.
Then we reached grid square Beta-Eight, and everyone piled out of the van to start searching for Mannequin. While he would be at his most dangerous in close quarters, this also technically applied to me.
So I found myself combing through a hotel currently closed for renovation, in hopes of finding a murderous cyborg. I'd gotten to the fourth floor, when I heard a suspicious rattling noise from one of the vents. I turned to look, just in time to see one of Mannequin's detached arms on a chain starting to dangle down towards Ernest. Yeah, no.
I promptly conjured up a whacking stick and hit Mannequin's arm up against the wall, before conjuring a nail right through it to anchor it in place against a structural beam. Ernest's eyes widened as he realized what I'd just saved him from.
There was an awkward pause as Mannequin presumably tried to decide what to do next, before we heard a rattling noise, and the remaining length of chain fell from the vent. Ah, I'd been hoping he'd stick more of himself out, but I must have given him quite a shock there.
"He's down a limb now. Radio in that we know what building Mannequin is in; we need it surrounded so he can't escape."
Ernest promptly did so, even as I listened intently to try and figure out which way Mannequin was going. After a moment, I was quite certain of what I was hearing.
"He's headed for the ground floor! We've got to hurry."
I promptly ran for the stairwell, shoving my ear protection back into place as I did so. Then I vaulted over the railing, and nailed a perfect landing at the bottom of the stairwell. I shouldered my rifle and dashed from the stairwell just in time to see Mannequin burst out of a vent and make a mad dash for the exit. I promptly shot him in the back of his torso, the specialized explosive round spalling off incredibly lethal amounts of shrapnel inside Mannequin's body.
Mannequin dropped to the ground, apparently dead. But I wasn't going to stop until apparently was replaced with definitely.
I pressed the talk button on my radio "Mannequin down in Bayview Hotel lobby, requesting backup for removal to street and Thermite cremation."
Later at the debrief, I learned that Crawler had ultimately ran for it after losing multiple limbs to Armsmaster's prototype nanothorn halberd. Despite the PRT and Protectorate's best efforts, he'd managed to make it out of city limits. Though now his location was being tracked at all times, and he was being actively pursued by a mix of the National Guard, the Guild, and assorted PRT-affiliated assets. That said, Burnscar's location was still unknown.
With all but two members dead (or captured in the case of Bonesaw), the Slaughterhouse Nine was finished. Good riddance. Now it was just a question of if the PRT would allow me to part on amicable terms, or if that wasn't going to be the case after all.
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Hmmm if you launch crawler into orbit and past the moon somehow he would die for sure... Easier said than done. Hopefully she gets away on amicable terms, but I doubt it.
Brightstone
Feral Goblin
Eh, I was enjoying it until you killed Lisa for literally no good reason. The rationale she used should have resulted in Taylor and Dinah's deaths too. Or ffs, "Dinah, what are the chances Lisa will snitch? Neg 20%? Righty-o, the thinker lives."