If God Was In Hell We Would All Be Dead [OPEN | MINGLE]

[inconsequence]

Who: Who wants to kill some slavers? You do! Of course you do!
When: May 15th and onwards
Where: Slave trade outpost in the Runoff
What: The slavers that targeted the crew of the Moira in July are overdue for some justice. Chara breaks some regulations to make that happen. THIS IS A MINGLE LOG; anyone and everyone who wants to get in on this and kill some slavers is absolutely free to do so! Chara is relying on there being some chaos for this to work.
Warnings: PROBABLE DEATH. Probable references to slavery, trauma, and also death. Chara.


The Ingress opens to a spilling wash of gray and white, a monochrome cast of shadows and hard angles. The Runoff, it seems, is not a place of many colors; every inch of it is drab and washed out, cold and impersonal as the people who would employ such a place for their own twisted ends. A swirled nebula of stars glimmers overhead. It is night.

Knives are useful tools, but their reach is limited. A quiet transmission to the network, a select few messages delivered to a select few individuals, the hissing strike of a match igniting on the edge of a box. The place is angular and looks to be comprised of some sort of galactic equivalent of asphalt, likely inflammable. Still, it is entirely too dark. Too gray. Too poorly maintained. Tents and shabby establishments line the streets, places where, evidently, personal agency may be bought and sold on a whim.

It does not take long to find a structure of cloth and wood, and the whole of it soon emanates the rank, coppery tang of some interdimensional brand of gasoline.

Knives are useful tools. But they did not come with knives.

Or rather, they did not come only with knives.

One of the stalls is alight in a matter of moments. Red and gold tongues of flame gobbling the establishment whole, filling the place with both the color and light that it so lacked. Knobs of wood harvested from the wreckage form handy torches to set anything else aflame, to thoroughly raze the entire area to the ground, every stall and ship and vendor that supported and enabled the inflorescence of slave trafficking and slave keeping. Armed guards begin to converge on the disturbance at once. But small as said disturbance is, there is no guarantee that it will not come to grow.

That is, of course, where you come in.

One child alone cannot possibly take the entire place down, and flame can only take things so far. It is hardly enough when their aim is one of total destruction, however unrealistic an expectation that might be. They'll need help. Lots of it.

So won't you join the dance?

Comments

[greyate]

If Laura had tried, Jean already knows she would've stopped her and make her float in the air. But because she turns back to her and actually talks to her, she sighs heavily, "You can't stop them all on your own, Laura."

"This place is dangerous for you even with your powers and all your strength."

The lecture is cut short, however, with men running at both of them on either side. Jean raises a hand and sends the ones coming up behind Laura flying backward and into covered stalls.

[coercive]

Laura is quick to hop to turn around, and screams in rage as she attempts to charge forward. Her protective instinct is running incredibly high, which has her launching herself toward the man that was just thrown so effortlessly. Claws extended, she hits her target square in the chest. He falls and she goes down with him, screaming each time she stabs at his chest. Over and over she gets him, blood spraying all over her. When life leaves him and he stops gurgling and screaming in pain, Laura jumps off of him and moves on toward the other.

She makes a motion on her way, a signal that she's going to cut his head off. Even if this place is dangerous, they've never dealt with a child like her before. She's got the upper hand for now.

[greyate]

Jean calls out to Laura before she can stop herself but then turns and throws a punch into the air, towards the other men heading towards them. The telekinesis she sends into the punch knocks them down like bowling pins. She then raises both hands and jerks their weapons away from them.

That sends most of them running. The others look behind her and run from the sight of Laura's work. Jean turns to look and she can feel her stomach twist. It's very much like when she first met Logan. Covered in blood and killing everything in his wake, sounding much like a wounded animal.

She's so focused on her that Jean doesn't realize there's anyone else behind her until there's the crack of a whip and it's stinging her neck and jerking her back and to the ground.

[coercive]

Laura's head snaps at the sound, and looks at the man that's using it on Jean. With a ferocious snarl and a feral scream that echoes throughout the room, she ignores the ones she's attacking in favor of stopping him. No one will harm Jean while she's still standing. No one. Laura's family is small and new, and more than a little broken, but she think of Jean as family. So her rage is potent and running high as she gallops across the room and slides downward to attack.

Sending the claws on her feet out, she kicks one leg up to make contact with his knee while the other slashes at his ankle. He's not human, but humanoid looking enough that she's able to handspring herself upward to stab her feet claws into his chest. Springing as hard as she can, she launches herself upward, landing on his shoulders. Two sets of dual claws jam into his head roughly, stirring those claws to completely destroy him. She's blind with a red rage, and doesn't stop until the arm that's holding the whip is easily sliced off and his body is laying lifeless on the ground.

There's no one left in here, and no time to sit and admire her work. Claws retract and she grabs Jean's hand so they can take off at a run.