"Malcolm, Sitrep?" Las Vegas was blanketed in darkness, no longer the glowing city of life that it once was. ~Sir, there isn't too much of anything out here. I'm not detecting any humans in the area…and I haven't seen anything usually pointing to Emplate activity.~ Nevada was a wasteland. Safe houses were sprinkled here and there, small patches of communities governed by those who called these shantytowns their homes…policed by those brave enough to do so. Las Vegas was under Bishop's jurisdiction…Sin City…less of a city…still full of sin. ~Sir, excuse me for saying…but maybe your sister's hunch was off?~ Bishop sighed, heavy eyelids closing over dark brown eyes. When they reopened, it was as if he was seeing the world before him for the first time all over again. The destruction. He could taste the air…pollutants sucked in with every breath. He tired of seeing the world that was given him…he wished he could change it…wished there was a way to stop it all from happening. ~Sir? Commander Bishop…?~ His radio crackled, the voice sounding more urgent than usual. Bishop grunted, lugging his plasma rifle onto his shoulder.
"Malcolm, my -sister- is a ranking officer, and you will address her as such." Malcolm's voice was minute, his apology barely making it over the airwaves. Footsteps trailed up behind, Bishop craning his neck to spot Shackle and Randall, the latter looking more flustered than usual. "Problem?" Shackle smirked, reholstering her pistols and chuckling, 'Tell him, Randall.' Bishop turned fully, looked from one of his officers to the next, his smirk trying to match the one on Shackle's face. "What happened?" Randall plopped down on the hood of an ancient vehicle, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow before answering. 'Well, sir, Shackle and…' He was interrupted by Shackle, a small scoff escaping her lips, 'Shackle? Ooooh no, -Shackle- had nothing to do with this one. You can take full credit, pal.' Bishop was getting a bit irritated, they were joking around out in the field. Randall saw the look on his face, grunting and continuing, 'Fine…-I- was combing the perimeter of that old relic over there,' He pointed to where he was assigned, a weather-beaten and eroded Sphinx, "And I saw something move around the next corner. I give chase, asking -Shackle- to give me cover, figuring I had some action.'
Shackle jumped to her feet, cutting off Randall, 'Let me tell the rest! Bishop, you're not going to believe this!' Randall was one his feet now, trudging his way in front of Baylor, his eyes falling back on her, cutting deep, 'Hey! I thought you had nothin' to do with this?!?' Bishop shook his head, arms folding gruffly across his chest. He was becoming impatient. "Look, either one of you tell the damn story, or you'll both be cleaning the rest of O-Squad's bunks for a month." They both looked at Bishop, then each other, and Shackle stepped back, letting Randall have center stage once again. 'Like I was sayin'…I figured I had some action. So I round the corner cautiously and all, saw Shackle making her way around as well. There was a hole in the back of the relic, so I offer to crawl in first, since Shackle was acting scared and all.'
Bishop looked over to Shackle, the woman he once knew as Shirley Baylor, a brow furrowing. He knew plenty about her--she was the best sharpshooter in Omega Squad, probably in the entire X.S.E.--scared…was not something that never came to mind. 'So I crawl in, light the place up with a rod…expectin' a whole mess of Emplates to jump down on us…but what do I see?' Shirley couldn't contain herself much longer, fingers going to her lips to help her whistle deepen. Two seconds later, a miniscule puppy scampered its way up onto the hilltop, tail wagging violently before being scooped up by the female cadet. "You have -got- to be kidding me?" The dog went licking at her face, and she put the burden off on Randall, chuckling and the like. 'No, sir, we're not kidding. Randall almost disintegrated our new friend here. Got all worked up over a little doggie!' Randall looked ready to stuff the damn dog down her damn throat, but he decided against it, dropping the canine. "Well, Randall, if you wanted a pet, you should have just said something." ~Sir!~ The joke was forgotten no sooner than it had been said, all attention going to the oncoming transmission. "Go ahead, Malc…"
~Sir, we got activity…a shit-load of it! They're everywhere…I'm counting at least 20 that I can see right off! Not to be a pain, but we could use a fucking hand!~ Bishop darted to the end of the hill, Randall and Shackle not far behind. "Holy…" Shit. Bishop growled. How could he have been so stupid? They had let their guard down, and the Emplates had taken advantage. He could spot most of his team down on the battle field…no sign of Malcolm…Randall and Shirley were at his side. Randall and Shirley. At his side. "You're still here?!? Get down there now, dammit!!!" No more words passed between them, Bishop had launched himself off the edge of the cliff, slamming onto side of on overturned bus, then landing neatly onto the desert earth. "Malcolm!" His plasma rifle cut down the first Emplate its sights came across, its brethren shrieking and retreating from the dead.
They circled Bishop, trying to corral him like the Timber wolves of old did their prey. Bishop smirked wildly. He was the predator here. A swift boot opened him a path through the marrow-sucking mutants, and he leapt through, leaving a present behind in the form of a frag grenade. He tucked, rolling to his haunches and firing on the Emplate that he'd kicked from the squad…the explosion deafening its cry. "Malcolm, answer me, gawd dammit!" Nothing. He looked over his shoulder, past the scorched husk of his enemies, spotting Randall and Shackle doing what they could to suppress the legion of creatures. He scanned the perimeter again…a few other officers were holding their own, one or two were unlucky. But no Malcolm. "Randall, give me cover fire! Shackle, we've got a few of our own turned…" She knew what was coming after that, and it made her flesh crawl. ~Bishop, if we get them back in time, maybe…~ "We don't have time, Baylor! I've already made the call for aerial support. 10 minutes, and everything within a mile radius will be gone!"
~But sir…~ Bishop chided her, not before narrowly having his head torn off by an Emplate leaping overhead. "This isn't up for debate! I don't want my men to suffer! We collect the living, and get the hell outta here!" He aimed…he fired. Thompson. Damn. He expected Shackle to do the same, leaving her to deal with her turned comrade in her own way. Randall scattered with Bishop, guns blazing, the look on his face that of a demented warrior. He was unpredictable--it was the sole reason Bishop had picked the under-trained cadet for his squad. 'Take this, ya fuckin' freaks!' Bishop almost wanted to laugh, but the seriousness of this situation reminded him not to. "Colorful choice of words, Ran. Now see if you can do me a favor and find…" Malcolm. Bishop spotted him, injured, yet still fighting with his back to the wall. If he'd been bitten…if one of the Emplates got their sucker-like hands on him, he'd be turned sooner or later. Bishop looked to the sky--he could hear the jets coming their way…there wouldn't be a later.
"Randall, you've got command! Gather what's left of Omega Squad and get as far away from here as you can!" Randall wasn't given a chance to argue--he didn't have time to--Bishop breaking away from his cover fire and mad-dashing towards Malcolm. The rookie was holding his own, using the wall of an old casino to keep the enemy in front of him. He was relieved when he heard blaster fire that wasn't his own. Bishop came barreling through the crowd of Emplates, unafraid of the vampire-like creatures…Malcolm had never seen his Commander so ruthless. It frightened him. Then everything seemed to stop. Emplates. Time. Everything. Both men looked up, "Damn, it's too late!" The air raid had begun. The Emplates scattered, darting back to where ever they had sprung their attack. It wouldn't matter. Bishop acted on instinct, pushing Malcolm to the ground and throwing himself over him. If it wasn't enough…no, he couldn't think like that.
The puppy lifted his head, making a sound that matched the look on Shackle's face. 'Bishop…' A hand fell on her shoulder, Randall's, his visage trying to fix itself into something comforting. The explosions were loud enough to hear from their vantage point, and they watched as the jets made their final run over the area before zooming overhead. Even from there, Randall could tell the destruction was total. He shook his head, running a hand through his shadowy black locks. 'Commander…?' His voice was firm, yet everyone around who heard it could sense a small twinge of fear inside…fear that he wouldn't get an answer. 'Commander Bishop, do you read?' His radio crackled, no response coming back. 'Shit…' He lowered his head, taking Shirley into his arms to console her. The rest of the team just stood there, motionless, as if they couldn't believe all this had just happened. ~I know you have an opinion of me, Randall, but -Shit-? That's low.~
The dust settled, the fires smothered by the sweeping sands. A small dune seemed to come to life, sprouting hair at first, then a head, the tan grains raining all around the body of one relieved cop. Bishop fell on his back, uncovering Malcolm, who had the most disbelieving look on his face. It echoed the rest of Omega Squad's perfectly. ~Bishop! I don't know how you do it…but I'm sure as hell glad you do!~ Lucas laid their, eyes peering at the looming sky overhead…if he wasn't hallucinating…he could've swore he saw a patch of blue. Malcolm got up on his elbows, so glad he was alive he didn't bother clearing away any of the sand covering his form. 'Sir, we're still alive how?' Bishop closed his eyes, those same heavy eyelids shutting over those same brown eyes, "I don't know, Malcolm. I prayed my mutant abilities would let me absorb the energy from the explosion and keep use relatively safe." The answer was good enough for Malcolm, and he laid back down on the earth, joining the laugh that Bishop had started. "I guess there is a God, after all."
Bishop opened his eyes, and it was as if he was seeing the world for the first time all over again. 'You okay, bub?' Bishop looked away from the window, the scenery below the Blackbird passing by faster than he could pick it out. He turned to Wolverine, nodding slowly, "Fine," he muttered, gazing at the rest of the X-Men--people that he'd known only as legends--and smiled, "Just fine."
"Malcolm, my -sister- is a ranking officer, and you will address her as such." Malcolm's voice was minute, his apology barely making it over the airwaves. Footsteps trailed up behind, Bishop craning his neck to spot Shackle and Randall, the latter looking more flustered than usual. "Problem?" Shackle smirked, reholstering her pistols and chuckling, 'Tell him, Randall.' Bishop turned fully, looked from one of his officers to the next, his smirk trying to match the one on Shackle's face. "What happened?" Randall plopped down on the hood of an ancient vehicle, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow before answering. 'Well, sir, Shackle and…' He was interrupted by Shackle, a small scoff escaping her lips, 'Shackle? Ooooh no, -Shackle- had nothing to do with this one. You can take full credit, pal.' Bishop was getting a bit irritated, they were joking around out in the field. Randall saw the look on his face, grunting and continuing, 'Fine…-I- was combing the perimeter of that old relic over there,' He pointed to where he was assigned, a weather-beaten and eroded Sphinx, "And I saw something move around the next corner. I give chase, asking -Shackle- to give me cover, figuring I had some action.'
Shackle jumped to her feet, cutting off Randall, 'Let me tell the rest! Bishop, you're not going to believe this!' Randall was one his feet now, trudging his way in front of Baylor, his eyes falling back on her, cutting deep, 'Hey! I thought you had nothin' to do with this?!?' Bishop shook his head, arms folding gruffly across his chest. He was becoming impatient. "Look, either one of you tell the damn story, or you'll both be cleaning the rest of O-Squad's bunks for a month." They both looked at Bishop, then each other, and Shackle stepped back, letting Randall have center stage once again. 'Like I was sayin'…I figured I had some action. So I round the corner cautiously and all, saw Shackle making her way around as well. There was a hole in the back of the relic, so I offer to crawl in first, since Shackle was acting scared and all.'
Bishop looked over to Shackle, the woman he once knew as Shirley Baylor, a brow furrowing. He knew plenty about her--she was the best sharpshooter in Omega Squad, probably in the entire X.S.E.--scared…was not something that never came to mind. 'So I crawl in, light the place up with a rod…expectin' a whole mess of Emplates to jump down on us…but what do I see?' Shirley couldn't contain herself much longer, fingers going to her lips to help her whistle deepen. Two seconds later, a miniscule puppy scampered its way up onto the hilltop, tail wagging violently before being scooped up by the female cadet. "You have -got- to be kidding me?" The dog went licking at her face, and she put the burden off on Randall, chuckling and the like. 'No, sir, we're not kidding. Randall almost disintegrated our new friend here. Got all worked up over a little doggie!' Randall looked ready to stuff the damn dog down her damn throat, but he decided against it, dropping the canine. "Well, Randall, if you wanted a pet, you should have just said something." ~Sir!~ The joke was forgotten no sooner than it had been said, all attention going to the oncoming transmission. "Go ahead, Malc…"
~Sir, we got activity…a shit-load of it! They're everywhere…I'm counting at least 20 that I can see right off! Not to be a pain, but we could use a fucking hand!~ Bishop darted to the end of the hill, Randall and Shackle not far behind. "Holy…" Shit. Bishop growled. How could he have been so stupid? They had let their guard down, and the Emplates had taken advantage. He could spot most of his team down on the battle field…no sign of Malcolm…Randall and Shirley were at his side. Randall and Shirley. At his side. "You're still here?!? Get down there now, dammit!!!" No more words passed between them, Bishop had launched himself off the edge of the cliff, slamming onto side of on overturned bus, then landing neatly onto the desert earth. "Malcolm!" His plasma rifle cut down the first Emplate its sights came across, its brethren shrieking and retreating from the dead.
They circled Bishop, trying to corral him like the Timber wolves of old did their prey. Bishop smirked wildly. He was the predator here. A swift boot opened him a path through the marrow-sucking mutants, and he leapt through, leaving a present behind in the form of a frag grenade. He tucked, rolling to his haunches and firing on the Emplate that he'd kicked from the squad…the explosion deafening its cry. "Malcolm, answer me, gawd dammit!" Nothing. He looked over his shoulder, past the scorched husk of his enemies, spotting Randall and Shackle doing what they could to suppress the legion of creatures. He scanned the perimeter again…a few other officers were holding their own, one or two were unlucky. But no Malcolm. "Randall, give me cover fire! Shackle, we've got a few of our own turned…" She knew what was coming after that, and it made her flesh crawl. ~Bishop, if we get them back in time, maybe…~ "We don't have time, Baylor! I've already made the call for aerial support. 10 minutes, and everything within a mile radius will be gone!"
~But sir…~ Bishop chided her, not before narrowly having his head torn off by an Emplate leaping overhead. "This isn't up for debate! I don't want my men to suffer! We collect the living, and get the hell outta here!" He aimed…he fired. Thompson. Damn. He expected Shackle to do the same, leaving her to deal with her turned comrade in her own way. Randall scattered with Bishop, guns blazing, the look on his face that of a demented warrior. He was unpredictable--it was the sole reason Bishop had picked the under-trained cadet for his squad. 'Take this, ya fuckin' freaks!' Bishop almost wanted to laugh, but the seriousness of this situation reminded him not to. "Colorful choice of words, Ran. Now see if you can do me a favor and find…" Malcolm. Bishop spotted him, injured, yet still fighting with his back to the wall. If he'd been bitten…if one of the Emplates got their sucker-like hands on him, he'd be turned sooner or later. Bishop looked to the sky--he could hear the jets coming their way…there wouldn't be a later.
"Randall, you've got command! Gather what's left of Omega Squad and get as far away from here as you can!" Randall wasn't given a chance to argue--he didn't have time to--Bishop breaking away from his cover fire and mad-dashing towards Malcolm. The rookie was holding his own, using the wall of an old casino to keep the enemy in front of him. He was relieved when he heard blaster fire that wasn't his own. Bishop came barreling through the crowd of Emplates, unafraid of the vampire-like creatures…Malcolm had never seen his Commander so ruthless. It frightened him. Then everything seemed to stop. Emplates. Time. Everything. Both men looked up, "Damn, it's too late!" The air raid had begun. The Emplates scattered, darting back to where ever they had sprung their attack. It wouldn't matter. Bishop acted on instinct, pushing Malcolm to the ground and throwing himself over him. If it wasn't enough…no, he couldn't think like that.
The puppy lifted his head, making a sound that matched the look on Shackle's face. 'Bishop…' A hand fell on her shoulder, Randall's, his visage trying to fix itself into something comforting. The explosions were loud enough to hear from their vantage point, and they watched as the jets made their final run over the area before zooming overhead. Even from there, Randall could tell the destruction was total. He shook his head, running a hand through his shadowy black locks. 'Commander…?' His voice was firm, yet everyone around who heard it could sense a small twinge of fear inside…fear that he wouldn't get an answer. 'Commander Bishop, do you read?' His radio crackled, no response coming back. 'Shit…' He lowered his head, taking Shirley into his arms to console her. The rest of the team just stood there, motionless, as if they couldn't believe all this had just happened. ~I know you have an opinion of me, Randall, but -Shit-? That's low.~
The dust settled, the fires smothered by the sweeping sands. A small dune seemed to come to life, sprouting hair at first, then a head, the tan grains raining all around the body of one relieved cop. Bishop fell on his back, uncovering Malcolm, who had the most disbelieving look on his face. It echoed the rest of Omega Squad's perfectly. ~Bishop! I don't know how you do it…but I'm sure as hell glad you do!~ Lucas laid their, eyes peering at the looming sky overhead…if he wasn't hallucinating…he could've swore he saw a patch of blue. Malcolm got up on his elbows, so glad he was alive he didn't bother clearing away any of the sand covering his form. 'Sir, we're still alive how?' Bishop closed his eyes, those same heavy eyelids shutting over those same brown eyes, "I don't know, Malcolm. I prayed my mutant abilities would let me absorb the energy from the explosion and keep use relatively safe." The answer was good enough for Malcolm, and he laid back down on the earth, joining the laugh that Bishop had started. "I guess there is a God, after all."
Bishop opened his eyes, and it was as if he was seeing the world for the first time all over again. 'You okay, bub?' Bishop looked away from the window, the scenery below the Blackbird passing by faster than he could pick it out. He turned to Wolverine, nodding slowly, "Fine," he muttered, gazing at the rest of the X-Men--people that he'd known only as legends--and smiled, "Just fine."