No Problem At All



NPCs by Ling

Scene Title No Problem At All
Synopsis An attempt at rest turns into an ambush…
Date February 19, 2011

Queens, Inside The Dome

“Is she here?” A quiet voice speaks, a gravlly quality, a man’s voice. His face is obscured by a cover of darkness, his foot taps impatiently on the concrete below his feet.

“Should be. Fuckin’ scum was seen comin’ back here after that shit at Gristede's yesterday. Some serious bullshit happened there from what I heard,” a second voice chimes in, sheering as he looks over at his companion. In his hand, something glints as the light catches it, and he shakes his read. “We should just kill ‘em. This is a load of shit.”

“Shut up, you two,” a third voice speaks up. “We’re going to need the heavy shit for this. Focus, unless you want a hole burned in your ass. We can’t fuck around with this.”

Hunter’s Point has been far from the safest place over the last several months, and the Dome has only brought new hardships to the already broken section of Queens. Still, some manage to get by, the find shelter and hideaway from the violence and lawlessness at least briefly. Elle Bishop is no exception to this, having temporarily taken shelter in one of the makeshift, damaged apartments that still fill the ruins dotted throughout the area. Places that, in theory, are supposed to be somewhat safe retreats from the chaos outside.

But no one is that lucky. Not in times such as these. Even as Elle rests, something stirs outside her broken door.

With Jaiden out on a quick food run, Elle decided that now would be a wonderful time to lay down and take a nice long sleep. She's got a nice mattress that Jaiden brought in before she joined him, which they've been taking turns sleeping in, though it's a bit dirty for her tastes. That assault rifle she picked up from the Humanis First dicks who were trying to keep people from getting to Queens from Roosevelt Island rests next to her, on the floor by the bed.

She was just starting to doze off when she hears voices outside of her door. In the darkness of the ruined apartment, Elle sits straight up in complete silence, turning her gaze toward the sound; one hand goes to grab the gun, quiet as she can be, while the other curls into a 'claw' shape. Like hell she's going to let a bunch of guys come after her and do…whatever they intend on doing.

Then, the redhead with blonde roots scowls at the door, with rifle and hand aimed, waiting. Let them try.

For a few moments, it's as if Elle imagined whatever she heard. Silence, save for the sounds of a broken home settling as time passes. And then she hears it, soft but loud enough to be heard.

"Fuck it."

The dramatic cock of a shotgun mixes with the thud and crash of a foot kicking in the door, held level and out as an older looking man rushes in, largely plain looking outside of the shotgun and the bulletproof vest he wears, both lifted from PMCs a few days previous. They wouldn't need it anymore, and even if they did, he is putting it to better use, or sohe would believe.

"Fuckin'-" Another man, younger looking but no less deck out follows in with him, an assault rifle in hand. "Don't you even fuckin' move, you worthless evo scum!"

Well, shit. These fuckers came prepared. Not that Kevlar does much against her particle beams, which so kindly burn holes in such things. The first man who enters is greeted by a nice blast of bright bluish-white light, lighting up the dark apartment as it flies toward his chest. Then, Elle is suddenly rolling off of the bed, to hide behind the couch that Jaiden had set up in the studio apartment, as well, gun in hand.

"Aaagh!" Is the scream of pain from the shotgunweilding man as the blast sears through him - leaving him on the ground, clutching at his chest where a freshly formed caturised hole has burned it's way through his form, undoubtably punching it's way through several vital veins and a lung. He claws at the ground, reaching desperately for her warning as he wails in pain.

"Kevin's down, we got a live one here!" the one with the assualt rifle calls back, firing off a few shots towards the sofa with surprising efficency. "We're going t' need the heavy shit!"

The other remaning voice, still haning outside the door, comes up in a quick response. "I fucking told you to wait until everyone was //ready!" he shouts back. "Fuckin' all right, I've been waiting to do this!" THe sound of clinking metal follows, but whatever these serious measures may be, nothing is showing yet.

Elle's thankful for the cushioning of the couch taking those bullets, and while she's now covered in couch stuffing, it's a good kind of messy. The kind of messy that means she's still alive. But she's angry right now, probably the reason for the fact that her clothes smell like laundry being dried. She raises her hand over the couch, sending another one of those blasts searing toward the one with the assault rifle.

This is bad. Unless she can kill all of these fuckers, she has no way to escape. The window is over there, blocked by the men, and she'd probably get several holes plugged into her while trying to escape anyhow. Her other hand that isn't sending flashes of accelerated nuclear particles at the men is holding tight to that rifle of hers, teeth gritting.


The metal clinking ceases for a few moments - before two objects go sailing into the room from the other side of the doorway. "Watch your ass, Watson!" the thrower yells, and almost as soon as both sylinder shaped objects hit the ground, there's smoke leaking out int the room, grey and - mustard yellow. With a hiss both canisters discharge their gaseous ordinance into the room, while "watson" scrambles to pull goggles out of his pocket.

Another round of shots fired out, but this volly not quite as close to Elle. "We've got you one up, an' there's more where that game from," the man sneers out. "Throw me your guns an' we won't just fucking kill you.

Oh, shit. How did she know this was going to happen? Despite the fact that the putrid gas is filling the room, Elle keeps hunkered down behind her couch, now clutching her gun tight. She raises the gun up above the couch, firing a few return shots toward the sounds of their voices…at least, until the man talks and says that they won't just fucking kill her if she surrenders. Unlikely.

The shots are stopped, though Elle doesn't throw her gun out. "What the fuck do you want with me?!"

The goggles are strapped down over Watson's head, teh third man stepping into the room at last as the two gasses mix and filll the room - also wearing similar eye protection. He takes a moment to look down at Kevin as he writhes in agony. "SHit, get him up an' outside, see if someone can do something for him." He raises up an assault rifle of his own, skirting the edge of teh smoke cloud as she keeps it trained on teh sofa Elle hides behind. "Drop your fucking weapon if you don't want smome new ventilation, y'goddamn Evo sbitch. What we want with you is none'a your fucking business, buiness."

Shit. This is getting worse and worse by the second. She feels the oily effects of the negation gas on her skin, and on top of all that, it's suddenly cold, compared to the constant heat she's used to from her borrowed ability. The rifle has plenty of ammo…but all she has is a couch, while they have kevlar vests and gas masks and way more ammo than her.

And they haven't destroyed the couch trying to hit her, yet, and they're offering a way that doesn't mean death. Which…it sounds like they're pretty intent on doing exactly what they're threatening if she doesn't drop her weapon. She's silent behind the couch for a moment, weighing her options.

And really, getting out of this alive sounds better. Not that she expects to get out of it unscathed. "I should think it's my business what you want with me." She snarls this out, finally. But…instead of shooting, like she would really like to do…she slides the gun out from behind the couch. She knows when she's outnumbered and outgunned. If it weren't for that damn negation gas, it would be a different story.

“Listen to that," Watson chimes in as he leans down over his passed out and dying comrade, "even Evos know when they're fucked. Better than the last few, that's for sure. Know they're fuckin' place. The man who appears to be leading the operation's eyes narrow a bit as he slings his rifle back over his shoulder, kicking Elle's back towards Watson. "Good. I was hoping this would be easy." He walks around to the other side of the couch, catiously keeping as much distance between him and the woman propped up on one knee on the other side of the couch. There's a click at his side as his sidearm is unfastened and drawn.

"Stand the fuck up and turn this way, now."

Slowly raising her hands above her head to show that she is indeed unarmed, Elle slowly raises to her feet, glaring daggers up at the man with the gun aimed on her, turning toward him. If looks could kill, these men would be writhing on the ground and dying a slow, painful death while Elle Bishop happily skipped out over their convulsing forms.

But sadly, Elle Bishop does not possess the ability to kill people with just a look, and it certainly wouldn't help her out right now, with the negation gas in full effect right now. So instead, she offers only a defiant scowl up to the man. "I'd like to see you do this shit without your precious negation gas. You're nothing more than a shivering coward."

This remark will cost her, she's sure, but…she has to say something.

She's right, it will. There's no remorse in the man's eyes as he looks Elle head on, a malicious smirk crossing his face. "Thank you. I just wanted you to stand so this would hurt more."


The sound resonates through the room as he lowers his weapon and fires a shot into Elle's thigh. "And what, exactly, is it that makes us cowards? That we aren't freaks able to do things no man should able to? Are we cowards because we're not 'special'? Because we have to work harder to match you?" He cackles, shaking his head at Elle. "You're the coward, hiding behind your sofa and your abilities. Fucking worthless evo //cowards, every last one of you."

He turns to look at Watson as he reholsters his side arm and shaeks her head. "I'll handle Kevin. Have some fun until I get back. rouch her up a little. But don't kill her. Valentin will have our heads if we don't bring enough back."

She can't help but let out a shriek of pain, dropping back to the ground and clutching at her leg as blood starts to flow from the fresh wound. She's past words right now, in far too much pain to respond for a moment. It hurts so bad that she bites down on her lip, drawing blood that then goes into her mouth. Then, with her teeth gritted, she glares up at him.

"You're a coward because you're scared of me. I wouldn't…wouln't have attacked you if you hadn't attacked me. You're a coward because you've rendered me…" She groans, putting pressure on the fresh wound that hurts so god damn bad. "…Rendered me helpless, and you're still doing this awful shit." She spits blood and saliva toward his feet. "Fuck you…"

"I've rendered you normal!" the man spits back out over his shoulder, lingering at the door for a moment. "I'm doing what we normal people have to do to survive against you freaks. You fucking vile freakish scum." Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a rifle clip, offering it over to "Watson". "Rubber bullets. Give a few new bruises, won't you?" Watson takes the clip with a gleam in his eye that borders on sociopathic glee - Elle of all people should be able to recognise it. "No problem at all, Sir."

"No problem at all."

"You're going to torture me for the way I was born. Fuck you, racist scum. There's a special place in Hell for you!" Elle snarls this after the man, leaning her hands down on her knee to keep the blood from coming out too fast. It's getting all over the floor, and it fucking hurts like a bitch. Blue eyes turn up toward 'Watson', a frown forming on her face.

This is going to suck.

The current clip is replaced with the ones supplied with the rubber bullets, a smirk on Watson's face as she slides the other into his belt. "Maybe if you'd been born human, you'd understand," Watson replies for the now absent leader, grinning. "But you know? I don't even fuckign care about that. Now I'm just getting a little revenge for Kevin." The gunshot apparently isn't enough for that. Grabbing a chair, he pulls it over, before doing the same with Elle's hair and trying to hoist her up into it.

As he pulls her up by the hair, Elle lets out a little shout of pain, clenching her teeth together and eyes shut as she's forcefully placed into the chair. There's very little in the way of resistance from her, between the bleeding gunshot wound and the fact that she knows she's helpless right now. "You're the ones who barged in when I was just sleeping." This is said with a sneer and a glare, her hands moving to clench the bottom of the chair.

And to trace a message to Jaiden, in her own blood. 'HF, Call Card' is all she can write out, but it should be enough. "Believe me…if I could've been born 'normal', as you call it, I would have happily chosen to do so." She glares up at the man. "Certainly would have saved me and a lot of other people a lot of trouble and pain."

"Save me the sob story," he remarks with a roll of her his eyes. "Don't even play with me. I've seen enough of you people to know you revel in the bizarre shit you can do. So you can take your life and fuck off with it, like you just did to Kevin." And with that, the man pulls a pair of brass knuckles out of his pocket, smirking. "Pulled these off a guy who got killed by one a' you lot. Seems like a good time to put 'em good use." They're slipped on his fingers, and he lunges a punch into Elle's gut.

A punch to the gut alone would be bad, but add brass knuckles into the mix, and it's even worse. Elle thankfully has enough time to prepare for what's coming, but the clenched stomach muscles don't quite do the trick against those things. She lets out a sound as air is forcefully expelled from her lungs, spraying the man's face with spittle. Then, still in the chair, she curls in on herself.

Something tells her that there’s more where that came from. She's probably not wrong.

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