2012-12-23 Escape from Latveria Part 3

(NOTE: The first half involving the Distraction Team is missing from this log.  If you have a copy, please post it in!)

There was one thing in this world that was certain, one thing that could not be manipulated or changed by the powers of magic or some other power. Physics could be bent by those who knew how, time itself would bend to the powerful, but one thing amongst all others would always prove to be true.

Doom was alone, and could trust only himself.

The betrayal was not particularly unforeseen, in fact, it's the reason Blink was put in charge of so many human subordinates. They were keeping an eye on her.

Shift, the human with the interesting skill set, was easy to break and bend, but the second he left Doomstadt, Victor knew he could no longer count on his absolute loyalty to the drug. However he brought him invaluable information. There was to be another attack. Despite the fact that he cared very little for his prisoners now that he got everything he wanted from them, the attack itself would need to be discouraged from ever reoccuring. Allies were called, and mercenaries were hired, but as usual, they failed. Doom can only trust himself.

The defence, however, was going exactly as planned. He knew, against such numbers and power, only he could hold back the tides, and so he weakened them while expending as little energy as possible. They would be tired, weak, and confident in their victory as they marched directly into his fist, ready for the slaughter.

Now, as he flies through the cold night air, the Monarch of Latveria communes with his Marshal, "Funnel both teams to the throne room, then fall back and prepare the assault force. Once I give the signal, you have my permission to march on the targets. Leave none alive."

"Yes, Lord Doom. It shall be done as you ask."

Castle Doom - Dungeons, Latveria

Blink's efforts were valiant, but overall, pointless. To think that you could be anywhere within Doom's castle without his knowledge is beyond foolish, and it was only when Doom willed it that the stealth team comes under attack. Randomly, stones all along the walls reveal themselves to be fake, turrets swiveling out from their hiding spots to fire upon the group, while hallways clank with the sound of the coming Doombots. Danger seems to converge on them from everywhere -- everywhere except one hallway.

All in all, things had been going okay. Better than Domino would have expected, minus the whole issue of not having any standard weapons that would be of much use to her against all of these blasted DoomBots. The team's been reunited, the cells have been broken open, the rescue efforts expanded from just a few to a literal mass of people that had managed to find themselves being held against their will in Doomstadt. So far, zero casualties reported. On her team, at least. Finding Ms. Marvel took some extra effort, as did bringing her back around. They made it, they had what they came for. It's time to leave this place far behind.

Or so she would like. There had always been that nagging feeling in the back of Dom's mind that this really -has- been too easy, that Doom himself had been leading them all right into a trap. As soon as the ambush is dropped onto the ambushers, her suspicions are confirmed. Every way out is sealed up tight by security. Every way..but one. It doesn't take the mind of a genius to know what's happening. What other option do they have, though? If Wolverine can't easily carve through these walls then she can't count on a lobbed grenade to do the trick. Against the DoomBots, sure, but not against the walls.

With people counting on Domino to get through this alive, there's only one order which she can give. "This way, come on!" There's too much incoming fire to lead everyone out unscathed, even she might have some difficulty traversing that sort of obstacle course. Either lead everyone forward and hope to get lucky or lead them back out and right into a hail of fire.

This is why she doesn't like to lead.

Everyone that Nightcrawler had a responsibility to is now safe.. ish. Enough. Now, there's the tell-tale sound (and acrid odor) of the fuzzy blue elf's teleporting. He's sticking to the walls, literally and figuratively, checking the gun ports, the turrets.. flagging on when and how to run as a self-proclaimed scout. Now, however, there's fatigue that shows on his face, undoubtedly echoed on everyone else's.. the strain and the effort is showing through. "Come on!" is given as support to Domino.

Ragged strips of Wolverine's costume are gone, burned away by plasma-wielding Doombots; the flesh beneath is hairy and unblemished, and while the unit of DoomBots the team faced before Blink's arrival weren't entirely toothless, the fact that the group is still more or less in one piece this long into their intentfully blown stealth operation puts the tracker on edge.

The monotony of hacking through prison doors made for a rather poor distraction from his concerns, and the other team's continued silence only made matters worse; when it turns out that Doom does, in fact, have them all where he wants them, he can't shift towards the back ranks of the group quickly enough. The sound of his unsheathing claws just barely slices through the grinding of masonry, machinery and munitions, but none of those sounds are as important to Logan as the echoing footsteps approaching the group. He'll run with the rest of the team, but every few steps, he does a quick check behind them to track the footsoldiers' progress, ready to break off and serve as a deadly distraction if his allies need some room to breathe.

So far, so good, it would seem; though any rational definition of 'good' notwithstanding. But the discovery of her old friend has rattled one of the escaping prisoners more than she still thought possible. Already having reached her own breaking point, Psylocke has moved beyond it - on the bidding that she purely survive, like an animal, like a feral beast - only to stumble headlong into the apparently deceased form of a woman she's been alternately led to believe dead, broken or - in the dim flaring of hopeful light - perhaps as alive as the rest of them. Acting frantically, without full control over her powers or the workings even of her own mind, she tried and failed twice to remedy this new, freshly-appalling situation...

And it was Domino, again, who came through. Betsy was in no position to argue, or oppose the patch-eyed mercenary's reckless craft. She's in just as little position to dictate leadership once they're inside. She no longer quite resembles the broken thing she was a few minutes before, but the X-Woman is still a shadow of herself. Clad in dismal, filthy rags, her hair a stringy, greasy mess tumbling in chaotic disarray about sharp, weary features, she is straight-backed only because she must be. When the turrents unveil their threat, she's committed to action by the self-same drive and motivation; survival, at any cost.

When Domino plunges ahead, Psylocke remains behind, gripping firm the hilt of her borrowed machete - a likewise shade of the telekinetic blade she might otherwise summon, would that she had the energy and focus remaining. She doesn't hesitate for own sake, though; it's Carol and the other prisoners she's concerned for, checking back over her shoulder for the damaged, disorientated SHIELD agent before spinning off through the suddenly wild crowd. Her telepathic abilities are all but shot, yet she forces what she can-- sending out a sonar-like ripple of calming emotion, drawing upon her own animal need to remain calm in the face of danger.

"Keep moving," she urges between mental efforts, soon after twisting herself into the path of hot lead - sheltering the rear of the harried group with her own back. Bullets bite fierce, flaying flesh and ripping muscle, but she bears it with gritted teeth, and thrusts herself on. Leadership has been relinquished; she'll just focus on making sure as many as possible stay alive, while trusting her own delirious depths of will to see her through. At any cost.

Which means either that hallway is safe or filled with HORRIBLE DOOM. Which is worse than Happy Doom. Rain is so far in over her head, she'd think of buying a set of scuba equipment. She doesn't seem to mind the odd odor of any teleporting - she has a pet imp after all. She'll heal people as they request of her and help offer some magic support (sans newting for now). She looks a little rumpled but a bit in awe of the sort of power being thrown about here. "Thank you for leading us." Hey, why not? It's good to encourage Domino. She'll try, anyway. She looks to Psylocke, quietly lingering towards the middle.

An old adage... or at least an oft used military rule. There are times when the only way out, is straight forward through the enemy. Carol is woozy.. her vision not all good right now. She's got a bit of a jump start, but she feels so sluggish, so weak... so normal. On the way out of the cell, muscle memory kicked in, and she yoinked a handgun from Domino's plethora of weaponry. Her costume is a wreck, and she's in what amounts to a medical gown with a bit of her old suit retaining a modicum of modesty... but she soldiers on. There are times when you really just can't think clearly, and all you have to fall back on is a lifetime of training, and this is definitely one of those times.

So, out in the hallways, Carol takes a moment to provide cover fire, for what it's worth, as Domino leads on. She steps out around the corner with her pistol held in a two handed... almost firing range target grip. She fires once, twice, and several more times as return fire comes in. Bullets from some of the weapons that she would normally laugh at... are now real threats. "Betsy! Down!" she cries out, diving to intercept out of habit. She's not really super tough anymore, but... kneejerk reflexes are what they are, and she goes down, a bullet lodged in her shoulder that was intended for Psylocke, but.. she's not totally gone yet. On one knee and her uninjured arm raised to fire back until the pistol clicks empty. "Crap." she mutters, "Move..."

The clunk of Doom's touchdown in his throneroom is heard by only one other, a servant who awaits his master at his throne, a voluminous cloak held in hand. Slowly Doom makes his way up the steps, monitoring the progress of both teams through the HUD in his mask. Once the regal addition to his appearance is draped upon his shoulders, he speaks, "Leave me." The man nearly touches the floor with his nose as he back out of the room, letting the massive doors swing shut behind him.

"Marshal, I want them here. Now."

The dungeons are filled with ceaseless, rythmic noise as the onslaught kicks up a pace, Doombots hurtling down the corridors in pursuit of their victims, driving them onwards to their location. A location that is only a few turns away.

The encouragement doesn't fall upon deaf ears, though Domino's response may leave something to be desired. "Someone had to do it!" Nightcrawler's helping to guide the others but people can only run so fast, less so in the state many of them are currently in. She dives off to the side on a knee, her carbine aimed before momentum carries her shoulder into the cold stonework of the wall. Shots from a familiar weapon are counted, crying out "Danvers, reload!" before she throws a fully charged magazine over the heads of so many scrambling people to Carol. That hand then falls back to steady the weapon that she's already taking her own shots from, the short rifle with a long suppressor spitting out armor-piercing slugs to help cover their 'retreat.'

A spark flashes out overhead as two bullets collide, the pair buzzing angrily off into different directions. One finds its mark with a ceiling-mounted turret, clipping the frame just right to make it cease firing. The second buries itself into the wall up ahead, neatly wedged into the mortar that fills the gap between stones. Just around that corner up ahead lies a pair of massive doors, sealed tight. The people are retreating but they're quickly finding there's nowhere to retreat -to,- which Dom herself will come to discover as soon as she catches up.

For Nightcrawler's part, the dodging keeps him tired, the flipping through the air as he dodges the projectiles.. and he lands only long enough to push off and do it all over again. It's something that's been practiced over and over in the Danger Room over the span of years, but then.. he was able to stop the program. Now, he's pushing to his limits, if not a little beyond. The cry out for Betsy to hit the ground is picked up by the blue elf, and his head whips back to see the aftermath. Immediately, he teleports back to reach out and take hold of the now //more// injured Carol. He's got his own nicks, sure.. "Let me help you.." It's only a couple of heartbeats, however, before he has to move, before they have to move.. and he'll teleport again towards the front, with or without her, though he'll take Betsy.. up to her!

Some projectiles whizz right by Wolverine's wee, darting frame; others ricochet from his flashing claws, sending vibrations shooting painfully through his bones.

Still others just slam into his chest or back or belly, staggering him briefly; these, he tries to minimize, but more than once, they're the result of placing himself between an incoming bullet and Betsy or Carol. Better him than them, he figures.

"Gotta be an end to 'em at /some/ point--the outside team shoulda--"

Rounding the corner, he lets that thought hang for the moment, because the sight of those massive doors pushes an entirely different one to the fore:

"--shit," he softly exhales.

'Betsy! Down!'

She hears it, but she only regards it partway, ducking her head just a touch lower and squatting into her thighs as she twists about. The cacophonous pitch of gunfire heightens, and it's simultaneous with the wafting of a familiar scent into the kunoichi's nostrils. The sound she lost in the din, but that smell... she's only known a couple of things like it, and there's only one likely option in the here and now. They've already got Blink - somewhere within the dungeon depths, or so she fervently prays - but the stench of sulphur brings an extra glimmer of hope.

"Danke schon, Logan," she murmurs without giving it much more thought, pushing herself back through the hail of bullets toward her friend at the same time as other eyes and other assistane turns toward her. The Violet Butterfly isn't focusing on everything. Can't.

But even without telepathy, Psylocke is a highly-trained warrior esconced in the perfect body for her art; Kwannon was everything she ever wanted to be as a child, and everything the Hand physically needed from the telepath. It's her abilities that Betsy has honed to the point that - here and now - she can see through the pain, pass beyond it as she darts back through the gunfire, leaving the panicked horde behind to place herself in turn before Carol. Turnabout is fair play; though it's mildly less fair that she's able to interpose the sawbacked blade of her borrowed machete, sweeping it on an angular descent through the dank air, bullets deflecting with a series of piercing keens from the heavy steel. A few strike her anyway, leaving rich furrows in her right forearm, shoulder and her abdomen, but this isn't what matters.

"I already lost you... twice..." She scolds, breathlessly, from behind gritted teeth, violet eyes burning with something bordering upon madness-- but it's the delirium of the awakened, separated from all but the most basic and instinctive of concerns. Her free hand is thrust out, seeking to grip Carol's extended arm by the wrist and offer her insistent aid back to her feet. Leader or not, she's sticking by the same principle; nobody gets left behind.

"We don't have the luxury of--"

Her hand finds nothing but air, and then she's privy to the self-same philosophy.

"--playing hero." She finishes flatly, even in her anxious, desperately adrenaline-fuelled state able to dole out the tight, nigh-indiscernable British sarcasm. "Hello, Kurt," she rejoins as she slips back into action, glancing about the front of the group moving toward the apparent deadend, before alighting back to the German mutant. "You look well." Despite being quite the opposite herself - bloody bulletholes, one quite vigorously-torn palm, a broken nose, and a large opened gash over one eye - Betsy, it seems, is at least still Betsy. Her lips twist in a brief grin that comes more rictuslike than intended; awash in a thousand emotions, though relief and gratitude are surely among them. "Welcome to Latveria."

Quickly back to business, by necessity, she strides toward the waiting doors, urgently fingering the hilt of her notched machete with the remarkably unbroken digits of her right hand. Violet eyes sweep the length of thick, perhaps impenetrable steel, but she's come too far to hesitate any more; won't be denied by the mere diminishing of all hope. They're beyond that.

"Just get us through, Logan."

Her gaze finds the short, muscular Canadian for the first time since he appeared upon the scene. Not beseeching, merely confident and entirely trusting. She's seen him accomplish bigger things than a bit of wanton destruction-- but she's perhaps aware, still, that he may not be the one for this task. Exhaling, she looks back to the doors.

"Unless anybody has a better idea shy of *knocking*."

Rain smiles faintly at the response, though there's little time to think about it. She has to be mindful not to let herself get shot and taking the odd potshot, too. She's saving her magical reserves for finding traps, (not) newting people and healing. For her part, she is quiet, not daring to be silly or wry or - anything. She'd be the kid marched up to the gallows cracking a joke about asking people to hang out with her. Ba-dum tcha. Latveria huh? Well, Rain is here to help and help she will, dangit. "Hey, may I tend to your wound?" And to her credit, Rain is all about patient consent, confidentiality and respect. She pauses, looking to the door. She considers the idea of knocking. And maybe offering some girlscout cookies or asking if they had a moment to talk about - well, that'd get her shot TWICE... For now, she's going to tend to Carol if allowed. If not, she'll peer at the doors.

Catching the magazine, Carol reloads the spent pistol with muscle memory reflexes that she doesn't even need to look to do. She shakes her head and then a sound comes to her. She isn't psychic, but she does have an odd sense. She hears and sees things sometimes before they happen. At the moment, she knows.. she doesn't think, doesn't believe.. she KNOWS that the others have run into giant blast doors. She also knows what's coming from behind before it even gets there.

Ever have one of those moments where time seems to stop briefly, just long enough for you to think through a decision, and come to terms with it? Well, Carol is having one of those moments right now. Just as Psylocke reaches out to her, she offers a sad smile to the Japanese woman who she calls friend... Psy can likely -sense- the sudden calm and sense of peace in Carol's mind... that dangerous moment when the decision has already been made, and nothing will unmake it. Carol for her part simply stands up and advances towards the rear... towards the incoming fire. Fire rips into her and two exit wounds appear in her torso as she raises the handgun and starts firing.

A moment later, plasma fire pours into the hallway from the Doombots that are suddenly surging down the hallway, and Carol literally vanishes into the bright corona of the energy wash. However, because it hits her away from the rest of the folks... it doesn't wash over her into them. It's like she is at the center of the sun briefly... until the light of all that energy vanishes. It really is that abrupt. It just vanishes, and Carol is still standing... eye glowing golden as she points a hand towards one of the advancing DoomBots... and a Photonic blast rips out the center of the bot's body. "I have the rear covered. Get that door open." she says calmly.

As each group reaches their respective set of doors, their attackers halt, turn, and retreat, leaving it clear where their host wishes them to go, made even more obvious as the doors swing open of their own accord. The lifeless room beyond is massive, filled with granite pillars, and lit, it seems, by a legion of candles and chandaliers. Arrayed around the room are golden statues and colorful tapestries depecting stories passed down through Latverian history. It displays it's ancient roots proudly, but science and magic are mixed in with machinery humming gently in corners, and magical lights bobbing in place along the hall. A long red carpet leads all the way up to a set of stone steps, heading upwards to a raised platform bearing an ornate throne. A filled throne.

He sits lazily, one arm keeping his masked head propped up, waiting for his guests to enter before he flicks his wrist, and the doors shut again, and his voice pierces the silence;

"Today you have trespassed upon soil protected by Doom, and before I repluse you forcefully from my country..."

His hand raises, palm pointed towards one of the groups.

"You will be taught a lesson."

A light suddenly erupts from Doom's gauntlet, the speed immeasurable, the power far more then any they have faced so far. It cuts a line through the air as it hurtles directly for Dazzler's chest.

"I have been in better places," Nightcrawler begins, "Und I count the Polish deathcamp amongst them." And he's not even kidding. He's looking.. a little less worse for wear, but that fatigue can actually be seen in the pupiless yellow eyes of his, in the lines of the blue fuzzy face. And he's got to keep moving, a hand reaching out, his free one, in order to help Psylocke dodge incoming. Those Doombots are pushing them forward, and it's only now that he's noticed that they're at a rather large.. set of doors.

Looking back at where he'd come, they'd come, Kurt's eyes widen to see Carol changing direction and walking //towards// the turrets. He can't tear his eyes away until that flash of light, and he's forced to. And once again, he's turning his attention to the front. As the doors open of their own accord, he's on the move again, teleporting forward, bouncing off the walls of the corridor until he's into the grand hall itself.. It's not a second later when he's on the move again, making his way towards Doom himself.

Repulsors do what now? Light is fast, and Dazzler has been on her game all night... but this time she isn't quite fast enough. The beginnings of the shimmering shield of light crack and dissipate around her fingertips before it can form. Half a scream erupts from her lips as the blast hits her square in the chest.

The force of it knocks Dazzler off of her feet and throws her several yards back towards the doors. She lands with disturbingly uncomfortable physics and doesn't move. Or appear to be breathing. Her eyes remain open - and her hair is no longer dark brown, but strawberry blonde.

Yeah so they're coming in and Pete's not paying attention to Doom. He's scanning the other group for the familiar light purple hair, not seeing it anywhere. Plenty of other people, but-- "Domino! Where's Bets--"

He realizes all of a sudden that 'a lesson' means *a lesson*, and he's turned altogether too fast; he almost falls, ragged and battered in the scorched and torn remains of his suit, under which resides navy blue kevlar-- and he /stares/, eyes flaring brilliant yellow, then white. His mouth opens and nothing comes out; he's frozen on the spot.

It's a long moment before /Pete/ can breathe. And when he does, it's to whisper raggedly into the silence. "Rain. Check her." His blinding gaze turns to Doom. "We trespassed. We came to get our friends. We didn't kill any of your people." And then he takes one step forward, hands in fists at his sides, restrained; his voice is ragged, shattered. "And I'm glad we didn't. Fuck you in the /ear/."

Domino has an idea of what to expect beyond those doors. Doom. Some words. A show of force. It's the same song and dance that he's used before. Now that he's gone through the effort to round everyone together (hey, the other team's here too!) there's no way any of them would be leaving here until he's made his point. "She's with us, Wisdom." The empty carbine is slung across her back just before Doom makes his attack, a pair of pistols instantly filling her hands as she leaps to the side and rolls across the unyielding floor to get herself behind the cover of a granite pillar. "Take cover!"

Hmm. Idea. Be reckless, be spontaneous, and watch what results. Dom yanks a grenade from her combat webbing and arms it, watching Nightcrawler as her makes his move. "Blue, longbow!" The grenade gets hurled up into the air at the teleporting mutant, the spoon leaving the priming mechanism with a merry little chime. He'll have a few seconds to deliver it, but when he can teleport at that kind of speed? He'll be fine!

Even Tigra's reflexes are taken off guard by both the suddenness and the speed of Doom's 'lesson' aimed at Dazzler. She snarls in surprised reflex, crouching down and curling her fingers to flex her claws. "What's the play, Boss?" she asks towards the furious Pete, tail lashing.

Doom knew, of course, the attack would come as soon as he attacked one of them. None of them had wanted to talk before, and that wasn't going to change after he had killed one of them. As Nightcrawler teleports closer to him, he watches the mutant's patterns, analyzing them in the short amount of time he has before he fires off two blasts of electricity at the two most likely locations for his re-emergance.

Invisible Girl SHOULD have been expecting Doom to pull some crap like this, but she was caught as much by surprise as every one else. Her hands cover her mouth as her eyes go wide, not that anyone can actually see that. She looks back at Doom when Pete starts shouting to make Rickman's Sheriff of Nottingham envious. It would be so easy to just use a forcefield to squish his head like a grape, but that would make her no better than him. So she opts instead to watch him like a hawk from here on out and stop any other attacks from reaching their targets.

"The hell is--" Wolverine wonders when the golden flash around the corner sends shadows spinning ever so briefly across the imposing surface of the doors. His query is cut short when they open, leaving him to enter the throne room as the DoomBots retreat. Robot soldiers or no, the claws remain exposed, and in no time at all, Doom rewards that decision by taking Dazzler out with a wave of his hand.

"Attack," he supplies for Tigra with a growl when Domino and Nightcrawler make their move. Charging directly at the dictator in his place of power is not the most artful tactic, but as his order gives way to a wholly more bestial roar, it's what he falls back on; somewhere, in some small corner of his mind, a part of him is trying to rationalize it away as providing the tyrant with a difficult to ignore target to provide the rest of the team a measure of safety.

Most of him, however, is focused on trying to get close enough to bury six feet of honed adamantium through Doom's chestplate; that he doesn't even /know/ the singer just adds to his ire.

Blink. Rain kind of stares at poor Nightcrawler. There's worry now, listening to this all. She's watching - and again, will provide healing to those willing, even if the only response to her is a grunt. She looks zoned out, concentrating. It's almost an absurd contrast to the chaos around her. Rain tries to pull inward, embracing a quiet darkness to concentrate. She doesn't expect much of anything, her brain trying to sort out everything and failing magnificently. Time has slowed and sped up all at once.

But few things really prepare you for everything. Or even confronting the awful result of irritating Doctor Doom. Rain nods at Pete's whisper, catching the words. She scampers over to Dazzler, Harvey's head poking out of her collar. She kneels by Dazzler, purple eyes narrowed in worry. She checks and - pauses. A little poke. Oh dear. Oh no. She's deader than Disco AND Carrottop's career. "Um, guys... I think she's ..." Is this the time? The expression on her face gives it all away. Crumpled. "... not ..."

As it happens, they don't even need to knock. Psylocke doesn't say anything more as the doors slide open, merely thrusting out an arm - ravaged palm dripping crimson at its end - to keep back the motley, dishevelled group of prisoners behind those she knows and trusts to face what lies beyond. Her lips pursed, eyes bright with a savage hunger, she advances and observes the scene; the opulence, the casually-slumping figure of her captor. A man she understands now on a level she understands relative few. He let her inside. Let her see, feel, what he is.

She doesn't have time to take in much more before he's acting. She doesn't know who he acts against-- but that doesn't matter either. It's with renewed fury that she takes several lunging steps forward, shifting grip on the machete, stare finding Doom on his throne.

"Still you persist in teaching those who don't need or deserve your 'lessons', Von Doom," she addresses him clearly, clipped tone echoing off the walls, "You captured me; but set my friends free. What did you think would happen? That they wouldn't come back? For me, or for *you*? That they'd leave *you* to threaten others? And did you really, truly believe..."

Suddenly the kunoichi is moving-- lacking telekinetic enhancement, to all intents and purposes now entirely free of her formidable X-Gene; this is all Betsy now. She's no longer even identifying her physical actions as those of Kwannon's stolen form, tempered by her experiences, finally coming to terms with the creature she is when she stands upon solid ground. Divorced from the astral, she's as human as anybody else. This is her body. Her rules. But there's only one rule now: survive. Which means passing through Victor Von Doom.

"That I didn't tell anybody else what I was doing?"

She finishes from on high, above the teleporting Nightcrawler and his companion grenade. As the dictator unleashes his blasts, that familiar purple hair - the sign Pete is searching for - is swishing its bedraggled way through the air, whipping past Psylocke's vision as she stares downward, the heavy blade of Domino's machete slung back, other hand extended in what's less a defensive motion... and more a frame, for her intended target. Betsy is running on less than empty, but she's fuelled by so much raw emotion that she's still able to dig a little deeper, beyond the choking, limpid pool that her usually-inexhaustible power banks have become.

There's a surge of electric fire, violet butterfly wings encompassing her rag-covered, half-starved form before with brutal speed and precision she drops, bringing the cleaving blade straight down to split that armoured mask in twain. The one she's seen behind. Telekinesis gives her strength beyond strength - she couldn't get through to him before, past his defences, but with the multiple distractions she's almost too sure that she can now. Her kiai is fierce.

"SYAAAA!!"

The blow is-- was fiercer, and faster than any cry she could voice.

Kurt doesn't have to look to hear from whence his name is called. All he has to do is look for the grenade.. and there.. he teleports in the span of a heartbeat, and reappears, the now somewhat familiar sound of air rushing to fill the void- *bamf*. As he appears, and grabs the grenade, however, halting his supposedly random progress towards Doom himself. It's like a football pass, and once in hand, his attention comes back around to see the electrifying bolts scar the air where he very well could have been emerging from should he not have changed course. He's noticed Logan now, making his run, claws extended.. and then Betsy.. and he's only got so much time to deliver the package. "This better be a stun grenade.." or he'll have blood on his hands.. and a couple of more telports before he can get close enough, risking that voltage..

Well, Carol has a thought... maybe they need help up front. But.. if she doesn't keep this group of bots off their backs, they'll get overwhelmed from multiple directions. She doesn't notice Doom's blast of Dazzler but even if she did notice it.. odds were she'd be upset by it but not totally broken. Soldiers die in battle, that's a truism that has been as long as mankind learned they could do violence upon one another.

She has power again... it is surging through her body even as blood seeps from her wounds. But they are starting to heal those wounds. She's not Logan with his ability to heal so fast it can be seen with the naked eye, but her injuries are affecting her less and that is for sure. Perhaps it was just luck... thank you Domino.. but these Doombots were not geared up for fighting Carol. They expected her to be in her cell, on the brink of death, not in their midst so without their dampeners, it is a whole different ballgame.

She launches herself into them, ripping, tearing, blasting.. and it is maybe twenty feet down that hallway that she's fighting a rear guard action. Arms and legs of doombots are flying, heads crumpled. She's getting stronger each time she takes one down and literally grabs its power core to suck it dry. Screw this holding back thing. IF she had an anti-matter reactor handy, she'd overload herself... damn the torpedos as they say in the Navy.

One Doombot's arm does come flying... ripped off at the shoulder, into the throne room, to skid to a stop on the floor near Domino's feet. Lucky bitch!

Doom slams his foot on the granite, a surge of magical force blasting instantly down the length of the hall towards Logan as his computer updates him on each of the combatants in real time. For Logan, a magically derived magnetic pull that hurtles past him, intent on dragging him backwards to pin him against a wall. Psylocke's words are replied to, though her actions are ignored, the force field that surrounds him more then enough to block her blow, but he does turn his mask upwards to meet her eyes. "And again you fail to see the lesson I intend on teaching, Whelp. You are insects. Toys. They could have /asked/ for your release, as most would have. However, they think themselves above others because of their powers. They think that they because they have them, they are entitled with the right to invade my country time and time again. Now, I will teach them what happens to those intrude here."

Briefly, he turns his eyes upon Sue, before sending out a third blast, this one aimed at Domino's pillar, enough force to blow it apart with one shot. "Now die, die or surrender and leave disgraced, Worms!"

Pete Wisdom is twenty six years old. He's been through a lot more than most twenty-six year olds-- he can lead, he can plan, he can herd cats. But he's never faced Doom before. He knew, intellectually, what they were up against.

Now he knows in his gut.

"No," Pete says to Tigra, his eyes on Rain, giving her a slight nod. Then he looks back down at Tigra. "We're not going to make it if we keep trying to fight him. Not like this. I can't stop you, but we won't win. Help Rain. Start getting people out. There are people in the hall that need taking care of."

The Englishman takes a deep breath, reaches up to touch his ear, and seethes directly into the comms because /god there is a lot of noise/. Granted it's out loud too, so some people are getting this in stereo. |"She's dead. He said he's kicking us out. Let him fucking kick us out. He might turn us all into hot asian ninjas if he gets bored of flattening us."|

And away goes the grenade! (Tip: It's not a stun grenade.) Light and noise probably won't be enough to distract Doom, Domino's going with something sliiightly more potent. Gotta keep the Big Guy occupied, she's not even going to attempt to fight him again. The objective never had been to terminate the leader of Latveria, and as much as she would -love- to do that on the side there's no way she could dent that armor, let alone land a critical blow. This time, her responsibility is the others. Above all else, they need a way -out- of this place.

That's where Dom's efforts go. Good timing, too. As the pillar explodes around her she turns and trips over a ripped out weapon from a DoomBot that hadn't been there a second ago, skidding across the floor as so much granite shrapnel sails past overhead at lethal velocities.

What are the odds?

Dom nabs the fallen plasma weapon but sees an even greater weapon lying just outside of her reach. "Danvers! Find us an exit!" With the other's strength returning, maybe she can punch a hole right through the castle wall to the outside... Until then, this white-skinned mutie has an energy cannon to jury-rig. And more cover to find!

Pete's instructions suit Tigra considerably more than Wolverine's. "You got it," she says with a nod to Pete, and then a nod at Rain, before turning to do as ordered. She's starting to get kind of good at scooping up injured people and dashing away with them. She ducks low as she runs, trying to keep out of the way of flying pieces of rock. |"For the record, I'm already hot. Being an asian ninja would just be overkill."|

The grenade has been in hand for almost //too// long, and it's in that last teleport that Nightcrawler lets it loose, and it's not a series of short bursts that come from the blue demon, but longer ones now. He's going after Logan, ready to scoop him up, if he can.. before that magnetic field attaches him to the wall as a permanant fixture. Kurt is more than happy to retreat, now that his load's been delivered, as it were.. and he calls out, "Wolverine.. grab my hand!" and he's off?

Invisible Girl can't help but see Doom look right at her. She knows Pete is right, even though she wants to Gibbs-slap the dictator into next just as much as everyone else does. So, as much as this might piss others off, goes with the fast and easy way to resolve this. Hovering above the others, she drops the invisibility and pops a full-power opaque force field around Doom, just barely big enough to encompass the armored man. "Everyone, get out!" she yells as loudly as she can.

Once, not so long ago, Logan was magnetically hurled from a plane and fired like a missile into an anti-aircraft installation, so the initial sensations of helplessness as he's hurled across the thron room and held fast by invisible, pseudonatural forces are at once familiar and infuriating. It isn't /just/ that he can't control his own body, it's that he can feel Doom's magnetism pulling at every inch of his toxic, unbreakable bones, reminding him of the /first/ time was rendered helpless by diabolical genius.

If it were up to him, he would press the attack, but it isn't; all he can do is strain uselessly against the castle walls. He has little choice /but/ to take Kurt's hand when it's offered - straining towards the elf's three-fingered three-fingered grasp is about all the action he can manage right now.

Judging from the wide-eyed rage in his eyes, it's probably for the best that his jaw is clamped shut.

Things just got real. And a lot more Doomtastic. Rain clings to Dazzler like static bits of fluff to your best suit. She smiles weakly at Pete, though it's more a sort of 'oh god I'm sorry, my facial expressions have gotten away from me and everything's gone south' sort of smile. The one you get when you realize things just went all pear shaped. She's going to move for cover, keeping Dazzler's body close. She doesn't intend to lose or drop her. "Um." She's okay with - well, no... she feels a bit sick and scared and the world is tilting to fast. She nods at Tigra and will accept help carrying Dazzler or any wounded. "Do you see any others that need carrying?" She asks quietly. Then a vamiliar voice - Invisible - no, wait - there's no time for thinking of her name. "Please come with us-" That to the invisible one, but for now? Grabbing and getting out of the way. Rain is a nematode, and nematodes don't fight dictators well.

Doom's sensors and most likely a variety of other items let him know of their plan to run, and, while he wants them out, it will be on his terms, not their's. His hand extends, grasping for Psylocke's machete while the cannon heats up, ready to melt the metal with ease if and when he grabs it. "You misunderstand," he intones to the entire hall, "You will leave, but only after I'm done." The grenade is almost a laughable attack, were Doom a laughing kind of man, but it might do a bit of damage to Betsy... had his shield not extended outwards to encase her in safety. He doesn't even bother addressing her before he sends out a plasma bolt at Rain and Dazzler, but it explodes uselessly on Sue's forcefield. "You can not hold me for long, Sue!" To demonstrate this, he fires a full power blast of magical force at his prison, bearing down on an inch wide area.

Hearing Domino's words, Carol just nods. No point in speaking right now. She doesn't have a comm, but what she does have, is a ton ... a metric tonne, of plasma cannons on feet. The bots stop shooting at her because even they aren't that stupid, but she punches into one's chest and grabs its power core... muttering, "Nnnnnnnnnhhhhh!" as she absorbs it directly and then points a hand upwards. For a moment, the world seems to shake to her.. she is still mildly drugged and toxined out. But... those who look her way can see the air shimmering almost like heat shedding off of blacktop in the desert... in August, before a photonic blast rips from her... a blast that hits the ceiling above her... the blast itself is something like ten feet wide, and the whole building shakes as the photonic energy rips all the way out to open air above. "Okay.... door is open!" she calls out before she collapses atop the last doombot in that group. Yep, she gave it -her- all.

Her cry doesn't die, but it does intensify in the knowledge of failure as Psylocke's committed blade finds collision with the perfect defence. It simply stops, dead, her body behind not following suit until she's fallen upon the shimmering outer edge of the forcefield herself. It's through instinct alone that she rebounds, heart thumping and body quivering with the effort of control as she launches herself heels over head, notched machete outflung, flipping back to the stone floor of the throne steps through flying shrapnel and super-heated rock.

"They fail to ask," she replies once she's grounded, ichor pooling and pattering from the kunoichi as she stands, blade held angled before her, "Because you hold a city to ransom even now. Because of *your* actions we resort to desperate measures, Victor; your dreams are flawed, depending on the willing of others to bend to your whims. To see your reason. You're a clever man, so why resort to this? Why can you not understand the image you present to the world? Yes, we've trespassed. Violated your country. So call us worms, call us fools..."

All hell is breaking loose, but she keeps talking even as her blade is grabbed. It's not a lack of speed that stops her pulling it away-- it's trying to stay focused, without her telepathic senses cluing her in, as shields cross shields and explosions wrack the hall. She's in a position to be surprised, and the metal melts with the ease Doom expects. Unperturbed, uncaring now of anything bar facing this man; in a confrontation she has planned now for weeks, she draws herself upright, weathering the blasts and the shrapnel irrespective of Victor's defenses.

"I'm not finished with you yet," pronounces the dictator, and this just draws her higher.

"But when all is said and done," she rejoins in a fierce murmur, violet eyes blazing, "We're only human. We're nothing but animals, and there are millions more in our wake. You ask us to surrender? You're no longer in a position to request that. Stand aside, let them free in the knowledge that you'll meet again. Then we finish our business; for *my* transgression..."

She flinches faintly, knowing that she betrays friends further in betraying herself. But this is the right thing to do.

Her voice drops close to a whisper, but remains committed. Confident. "I will pay."

Sue winces at the first plasma bolt hitting the force field she holds around Doom, and the following full power blast causes her to cry out in pain as her hands go to her temples. |"Wisdom... get everyone moving."| She sinks slowly to the floor, her eyes still focused on the dictator and maintaining that force field isolating him from everything and everyone else, heck, even from getting a fresh supply of oxygen.

Kurt takes hold of his friend's hand and wraps his fingers around the wrist, getting a good, solid hold Logan. It's another heartbeat in order to determine the direction in which the others were departing. Yellow eyes widen once again to see the blast.. the large hole in the ceiling created before he looks back at the prone figure that's now passed out, at the very least.. and dear Lord, hopefully not dead. "I am going to bring you up," he murmurs.. "Und then get Carol."


 * "The job you asked me to do,"| Wisdom says fiercely to the brawling group, |"was to get us out. STAND DOWN. Feel free to die fighting if he goes back on the offer, but give the fucking noncombatants a chance to /not die/. Sue, *stop our people*. *Not him*."|

Pete, looking up at Doom and the encased Betsy, while chaos reigns behind him, starts to actually just walk closer. You know. With his feet. Each piece of debris or shrapnel tears him up a little bit more, beginning to cut through the kevlar; he stops in front of them both and crosses his arms. "Betsy? Shut up. Gotham is fine. I know you lost a lot of time? But Gotham is fucking fine, and I am never coming to rescue your strangely more appealing ass again. Do me a favor for it, and surrender." Attention-flick. "Oi! Doom. You killed my best mate, and I am fucking surrendering."

He whips around to face the roaring chaos and there's another bright splash of light; he wings a set of baby hotknives at the floor, just for the attention-getting. |"We are surrendering. Don't be stupid. We're in the fucking throne room of his castle and once you get outside the walls there'll be the rest of the goddamned army to fight. If we even get that far. If we surrender and /any more of us die/ feel free to leave me here. But *fuck pride*. He is *better than us at all of this shit*."|

"A city at ransom? I don't know what you're talking about, Insect. I hold nothing at ransom. For what would I demand, when I have all I want?" Doom almost calmly speaks to Betsy as he kicks his assault up a notch, his aim shifting to Sue, so she's the first thing he hits when the field goes down. "Your friends are fleeing. They are beaten already, and I have barely begun. I am in a position to demand anything I want."

As the ceiling gains a new skyroof, a hordes of Doombots surge to the hole from the outside, prepared to keep Doom's enemies trapped... If they can.

One more point for the visiting team, they have an exit! In the ceiling. Not everyone can fly. Crap. And Psylocke's way up there, trying to confront Doom -on her own.- They came to rescue her ass! They came here to -get her out!- She's going to get herself killed, damnitall! It's time for another decision to be made. First, priorities. "Anyone that can, start getting people out!" For the moment that discarded plasma arm is left alone, the mercenary instead drawing a lowly dart pistol.

Leveling it at Psylocke.

"I warned you, Betsy," Dom mutters while taking up the minimal slack from the trigger. It had been the telepath's own words that they -all- got out of this place. It had been Dom's words that she not play the hero or she'd tranq Psylocke, herself. We're. All. Leaving. "Be smart, girl. Don't make me do this."

The field is still covering Psylocke, isn't it. And now Wisdom's in the way. God--is there -any- part of this plan that doesn't suck?!

Then the bombshell hits. This whole thing. It had all been for nothing. Domino's eyes slowly widen behind those open sights, the tension slowly falling out of her arms. "Oh, god."

Tigra continues to try to get injured out of the way of danger, but she's not running away. "Y'know," she says to Rain, "I think this is something that I'm not gonna put on my curriculum vitae." After Pete's repeated calls to stand down and surrender, she'll do so. Sure, she's not fighting, but helping evacuate, but it could easily be taken the wrong way right now.

Oh gods. Oh goddesses. Doom bolts would explode Rain so hard that she might implode and form a small black hole since that his how hard she would be exploded. She cringes, though look somewhat relieved as the barrier keeps her from getting more structurally superfluous holes. Deepbreath. She nods at Tigra. "Um, yeah. Skipping the souvenier shop, too..." She winces. She will keep Dazzler close, although she's summoned a broom into one of her hands. "Fortunately, I brought duct tape and can keep at least one person hovering nearby." It's like a dolley, but more Harry Potter. "Um, I think only someone unconscious'll go this way though..." Hoverbroom is a crude way of carrying bodies, but it works and it means her hands are free for one more. Just... don't tell anyone. "Let's get Miss - um," A motion to Carol. And she'll move that way, poor Dazzler getting to wizard it up broomstyle. With duct tape too, so she doesn't fall off.

Rain is an engineer. Her people skills can be ... questionable, despite good intent.

The sudden appearance of the Doombots put something of a kibash on Nightcrawler's idea in regards to setting his friend in a 'safe' spot in order to get back and grab the others. His expression shifts from one of intent and concentration to one of.. resignation. There's nowhere to go where he wouldn't be leaving people behind, and he simply can't and won't leave them. It's a last teleport where Kurt's feet hit the ground finally.

The same realization that strikes Domino doesn't hit Psylocke; she's been subjected to lies and deception enough here, been assured of the deaths and defections of her friends only to seem them all return. What respect she has gained for the brutally-powerful dictator is not founded on his honest and forthcoming nature. He's proven himself a foe in every way possible.

"So let them flee, or face more tomorrow-- or next month, or next year. How many people will you imprison or murder before you realize you can't defeat them all? I've seen you, Victor Von Doom... I don't think you're an evil man. But you've been wrong in all of this. It was you who trespassed first; you who threatened Gotham because we *dared* to stop your little crime spree. Now the world is watching you. One way or another, somebody loses here."

Violet eyes flip sidelong, as far back as she can see without presenting her flank or rear to Doom; not quite enough to see that Domino has a gun levelled upon her, but enough to know the dire straits they're in. There's no recourse here that gets everybody out and safe; she's assured of that. Nobody gets left behind. Her words, her edict. In this case... she wouldn't be getting left. Nobody is responsible for her fate but she. The only offer on the table...

"So let it be us." She glances back to Latveria's benevolent monarch, "We surrender."

...is the only one worth taking anyway.

"You'll have your victory. But nobody else dies, or rots in your dungeon. There's no honour in that."

Invisible Girl takes the opportunity of the brief break between attacks against her force field holding Doom to try and catch everyone else in an attempt to start pulling everyone out. It's pushing the boundaries of her current abilities, though, and she steadfastly ignores that her nose is starting to bleed. Anyone not able to fly is going to find themselves on their way toward the exit Carol just made, the ones who can being protected from arriving Doombots, with Sue slowly slowly bringing up the tail end of the bizarre soap bubble parade with her eyes still riveted on Doom.


 * "Shut,"| Wolverine tersely transmits from the other side of Nightcrawler's teleportation, |"Up."|

Just having the freedom to speak is doing wonders for Logan's temperament, and Doom's defenses offer plenty of reasons not to press the engagement any further; nevermind the pain lingering in his joints as his body recovers from being manipulated so forcefully.


 * "Start makin' an exi--"|

The hunched, grimacing mutant freezes and slides his eyes towards Doom when the tyrant makes his revelation; his eyes are still widening with shock as the Invisible Girl yanks him towards the ceiling.

For now, at least, she is spared his dismay at being flown around without his say.

Conflict of conscience is going to be the death of Domino, not from a blade or a bullet. Doom -had- made the first move. He used those people at the Gotham bank. Framed everyone that tried to intervene. The first attack had been made by him, all along. Had it been their job to invade Latveria and retaliate? No, but they did it because no one else would. Gotham, it would seem, is safe from the hands of this dictator. It's a start. She'll never regret the hand that she had out here, but they remain decisions that will always be with her.

Still, the question remains: Did they do the right thing..?

Dom's jaw tightens, the strength returning to her arms. The tranq pistol's aim is renewed, just waiting for her shot when she's suddenly yanked out of the room and up through the gaping wound within the ceiling. "No--No, Damnit!" What's worse, that she's pulled from the fight while others are still engaged, or that she can't make good on her promise to Psylocke?

More Doombots. Carol looks up, her head kinda moving slowly as she shakes it. She's trying to clear her brain like a punch drunk boxer, and she growls a bit. As Sue is starting to head towards teh hole, Carol's tunnel vision pulls her from the blessed grip of sleep back into the battle. The woman doesn't know how to quit, how to surrender. Doom knows this about her by now... and she launches herself into the air, into the midst of the Doombots. A running battle is something she understands. She's trying to take the heat off of the others... again, drawing as much onto herself as she can so that others can escape. Orders shouted at her will sound like they're yelled underwater... the warrior is in combat... that is her arena, where she shines. ... and oh is she shining right now. Well, glowing... energy pouring out of her as she blasts and rips and shreds.

Doom shrugs faintly at Psylocke, a strange gesture from him, but he's a bit preoccupied with trying to force his way through Sue's field, "I will gladly accept your surrender, but so far your friends are only trying to flee for their worthless lives, without you, I might point out." And it's made even more obvious as Sue starts to levitate everyone except Psylocke out of the castle, protecting them from the the blinding attack of both Doom and the Doombots all at once. "Come now, do you honestly think I was there on a crime spree? Would it not make more sense that I was trying to reclaim stolen property? I had several spies within their ranks, tracking the weapons' progress until you intruded and I was forced to step in. My fortress was there as a form of transportation, and I threatened the city to keep you from following me. There was no threat once I had left. But you pursued me here, threatened me and killed my people, and even after defeating you, I spared your lives. Until you once again, attack, rather then try to negotiate for your release, your friends assault my home. I see now that force is the only way to deter you... Or you can stay here, and listen to what I have to say for once, rather then simply assaulting me."

Kurt won't leave Psylocke. Looking behind at that 'bubble', it's an easy escape from it via his teleportation.. and he's back on the ground. Approaching now on foot, his tail low and not quite dragging, he finally opens his mouth to speak. "Not all are willing to leave without her," he points out, his accent thickened with the fatigue of battle. He's weary.. "Is it important to you that you are cleared und found 'innocent' of that which you are accused? Now that you have used your force to deter us, let us depart. Show us that you will speak without a threat being leveled overhead, und let them go unhindered."

Poor Sue is going to be an unhappy camper. But she can join Pete's club. He's already unhappy. Vastly. In his bubble, he silently splays his hand and rips his fingers through it. "Not what I said, Susan." He drops a little lopsidedly to the floor of the throne room again, and this time he just-- sort of props himself up on what's left of a granite pillar. One hand, through his hair. "Lord Doom. Can you please put her down? Blue bloke, we aren't in a position to negotiate. For the record. I'm just waiting, now. I already surrendered. If you missed it."

Tigra holds up a fuzzy hand and waggles fingers. "I'm with him," she says, gesturing a thumb at Pete. "Doing the surrendered thing."

Invisible Girl is unhappy all right. But at least it's brief. Problem with what you just did, Pete: it was the proverbial straw on the camel's back, and now Sue and everyone else she'd been moving toward the impromptu exit are freefalling back to the floor. Let's just hope that none of them were far up enough to sustain injuries from falling again. Because Sue isn't in any shape to catch anyone now. And it's all your fault, Pete. Splat.

Rain nods at Tigra. "Also surrendering..." She offers quietly. She'll try to make sure that Sue doesn't go splat or that she doesn't go splat or - oh lordy. Rain grunts softly, although at least Dazzler on the rather morbid broom dolley is floating safely. She'll try to help catch anyone, although her hand-eye coordination... is wanting.

There's still too much going on. Even with her powers exhausted, there's a tiny internalized *nagging* where her extended awareness would normally be, telling Psylocke that the situation is emotionally complex on so many angles; the residue of thought patterns like a bilous wash against the crumbling cliff of her own psyche. She's at once trying to shut it out, control her own natural emotional responses, and keep her mind clear enough to fully grok the dictator's words. It's enough to give her a headache, temple atwitch, hollow thumping filling her skull.

"You're... lying," she says uselessly, helplessly, clinging still to the one easy truth she's found. He HAS lied to her. He did. "Those men we intercepted, they had... a device..." Even as she says it, her delirious thought patterns find the frayed ends of logic, and begin stitching them together. The device designed to alert the police, and block all other outgoing communications. It's more complicated still, though, the synthetic 'commander' of the criminal group *did* take, threaten, and kill a hostage. If he was one of Doom's creations, then--

Nightcrawler's approach interrupts her thoughts, followed soon by Wisdom's intercession. One mistake she's made and continues to make; that this has gone far beyond her now, that this is no longer 'her' operation if it ever was - despite her insistent remarks to Domino.

"Kurt, listen. Pete." Violet eyes find the agent, as she breathes out, dropping so much of her own masquerade that she begins to shiver immediately, an arm slipping across her exposed, bleeding midsection as droplets continue to spatter the forcefield-covered stone beneath. "Thank you. And sorry. It should never have gotten this far." Though the last is, of course, not for he alone-- nor does she address the circumstance of their meeting, gaze lingering on him only long enough for a look into the proverbial soul. Then it's back to Doom, her teeth momentarily grit.

"Speak your piece, but know that for now I still want your bloody *head*."

She'll parlay, and not just because she has no choice. But she'll not sugarcoat this.

Doom, having said his piece, with Nightcrawler and Pete stopping, apparently, to talk, halts his efforts to break Sue's barrier. He looks to Betsy briefly, before gesturing to the others, "You may rejoin them as soon as Sue drops her force field." He sends out a silent order, which causes all Doombots to halt their attack and stand aside. "You are free to go, though my invitation stands. Stay and speak with me, or leave with them. I do not care. However, know this, if any of you ever attack me here again, I will consider it a declaration of war, and my fury will not be held back until you all lie broken at my feet." He sees his falling foes, and waves his hands, Doombots surge forward to catch some, while a force rises from the ground to soften their landing. "Am I understood?"

"You misunderstand. I am not 'negotiating'. I am speaking." Kurt looks about at Pete, yellow eyes lingering, "Und you have surrendered, ja." And it's back to Von Doom that he turns, and he listens, though through it, he turns quickly around to see the result of that hole placed in the 'carrier' that had been created. Immediately, he teleports and begins to help one.. perhaps two before Doom steps in to aid them as well. The effort of that, too, saps Nightcrawler's energy, and when he turns about, his tail's almost dragging the floor. He does find the strength to straighten, his shoulders pulling back. "I do not wish to leave her.. und so, her word as to her departure will determine whether I stay or leave. I confess to curiousity, however."

There's at least someone here that doesn't know what's happening anymore. Until she's falling. Dom's got a few seconds to know exactly what's going on as the floor comes rushing back up to meet her. "..Oh fuck me."

Whap!

It could have been much worse. Between her own twisting and rolling and whatever force Doom uses along the floor, she's spared some nasty velocity-related injuries. It's more a loss of pride than anything. But, hey! It's also the worst blow she's yet taken through this operation. One which is about to get worse, their full surrender looking more complete by the second.

"To hell with this, can only beat my head against a wall so many times," Domino mutters under her breath. Doom's untouchable. This fight is pointless. Is he -really- going to let them all walk, or fly, or teleport, or whatever the hell out of here? Then give her the strongest drink in this joint and a chair to plunk her butt into, let's have us some words.

Picking Doom's gloating out of the ruckus that Carol is making is difficult, but one particular detail causes Wolverine to do a frantic headcount of the bubbles around him, and soon enough, the colour drains from his face and he clenches a fist. "Ain't no way we're leavin'--"


 * BAMF!*

"--without--"

He's just about to pound his fist defiantly against the bubble when, without warning, there /is/ no bubble; the wild swing causes him to tumble a little in his free-fall, and soon enough, he's disappearing into a mass of Doombots. One of their heads goes flying almost immediately; surrender or no, some instincts are difficult to suppress. That initial flurry of violent thrashing ceases once he registers that the soldiers aren't actually attacking, leaving him to push and shove his way past their grabby hands until he's standing on his own two feet again.

"Suggest you keep your nose outta our yard, if you don't want us comin' back to yours, then," he offers, voice low and strained with the effort of keeping it roughly neutral.

"Check," Wisdom says to Kurt with a quick nod of acknowledgement, exhausted blue eyes meeting hlowing yellow. And then he claps a hand on Tigra's shoulder, briefly; on Rain's; he walks up to catch at the shivering Betsy. "Understood," he says to Doom, voice devoid of inflection. What the purple-haired ninja would have seen in *his* eyes? Shutters. Dazzler. "But I'm afraid I'd prefer e-mail to staying. I have a friend to bury."

With the Doombots pulling back from the fight, Carol allows it to end. She comes back down the hole, and lands in the throne room... visible to Doom for the first time since this all began. She drops the shattered body of a Doombot on the floor and says, "I presume that they stopped fighting because an accord has been reached." And only now... does she take in the whole situation, the fact that Betsy is over there with Doom. Her eyes narrow and she remarks softly towards those closer, "We're not leaving her... right?"

Rain looks to Pete at the hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry," She offers quietly. She nods at Doom, accepting quietly what's offered. She's been a bit lost in all of this. She's likely with Domino and frankly, fighting Doom is like charging at a Mac truck. It rarely ends well unless you get him to go to Ikea or slip on a banana peel or something. For now then, she will help move the unconscious with the others and make good on quietly surrendering and leaving.

The eyes of Doom sweep about the room until he's seen each and everyone of them. "This is for all of you. You are beaten and broken. Your leaders know you stand no chance, and surrender... But I am a forgiving man -- Once. From this point on, all but the telepath and Sue is forbidden from coming here. If you are discovered on Latverian soil, I will see this as an act of war and begin my counterattack, and I assure you, it will go significantly better for me, than for you." He takes a step down from the dias, speaking still, "You are injured. Some of you are in no shape to leave, and so I offer you a small amount of time to heal your injured and recover. This is the mercy of Doom, do not squander it." With that, he turns, his cloak flowing out around him as he moves towards one of the doors and departs through it.

Shaking her head, Carol mutters, "There's something I didn't think existed. Doom's -mercy-." She asks, "Anyone need a lift? I got a bit of juice left. Then... when we get home, I need a bunch of drinks." Wait.. bury a friend. She looks over towards Pete. She heard that little part and raises a brow, "Who..." and that's when Rain's passenger is noticed and she starts walking towards Dazzler's body. "Oh.... crap." she mutters. Quite eloquent there.

With Doom's departure, Kurt looks around for Dazzler.. and he, too, begins to walk towards the prone form. As he moves, his lips are reciting a prayer; those who are close can hear the distinct words of the 'Our Father'. After he reaches her side, he kneels down beside her and looks as if he's speaking to the body, but to catch the words, he's reciting shorter prayers now, making sure that the soul can pass and not be held in limbo.. "...to have pity on the soul of Thy handmaid..."

Your leaders. That she's included in that tastes more bitter to Betsy than any amount of defeat, and any quantity of her own life's blood ever could-- after all she's done, and failed to do, in leading her ragtag band of would-be anti-heroes here, there's nothing but a vitriolic, kneejerking need to spit defiance at the inference she could dare to possess that mantle now. But there's no need to do anything but accept what Doom says, even as he infers that she'll have cause to return, and her mind frantically reels through the possibilities...

With all she's done, seen, and been shown, it's not surprising as such. It is one further torture.

That she's subsequently left alone with the others is, in the most painful way of all, another addition to the torment. Free from her cell, free from imprisonment of any kind, she's finally left to face the totality of what her actions have wrought. If it was truly for naught, then people have died - others have been injured, and some perhaps irreversibly scarred. Turning to face the chamber at large, Psylocke doesn't have the words to address everything, nor the wherewithal to make it better; even were she not near-broken, divested of her powers and operating only through the sheer, bloody-minded pulse of adrenaline through her veins.

She drops to her knees slowly, but never lowers her gaze, looking at each in turn. When all is held to account, there's only one thing she can finally do; accept that she's been utterly, completely beaten. Running a hand back through straggled hair, pushing it angrily away from her face, she alights first on Pete, then Wolverine, and finally upon Domino.

"Please," is all she quietly, simply says, "Listen to him."

Yeah. Great. Dom would like to say this is the first time she's received this kind of threat, but..it really isn't. This merc gets around. Among the places that she doesn't wish to return to? -This- place. It nearly took a fight with Wolverine to get her to come back a second time. There won't be a third. Sure, Doom humiliated her. She did the same to him. He killed her. Sorta. She kicked him in the junk. A line needs to be drawn somewhere. Probably best to before she has another opportunity to try and cheat death.

Sigh.

"Would someone -please- heal Psylocke, already? Getting tired of stepping in her blood." ..Wait. Oh, -hell.- Did they lose someone?! ..Good thing it wasn't someone Domino had been leading. Thank the gods for little things.

That comment from Dom gets Carol's eyes off of Dazzler, and she locks them onto Psylocke after a moment's search. Shaking her head, she doesn't say a word. She just walks over to her friend.. the friend who quite literally helped to snatch -her- from the jaws of death mere minutes ago.

For a moment, there are just thigh high boots standing before Psylocke's kneeling form, and then Carol slides down gently to her own knees... still not saying a word but simply reaching out to gather the purple haired woman into her own arms. "I'm here Betsy.." she murmurs softly finally...

"Yeah. Carol, if you can get us to the plane we've got in Romania, can get everyone else home. Don't particularly feel like staying here and enjoying Doom's mercy," Pete says, his voice brittle in the cold air and the broken room. "Rain? Betsy, here. She's bleeding a lot. I'll get-- I'll get Ali." Then it's totally fireman's carry of a singed singer, and out.

Kurt makes the sign of the cross over the form of the departed Dazzler, and leaning back onto the balls of his feet, he offers one more prayer and genuflects, the words coming in German before he finishes with 'Amen'. Rising now as Pete comes to get her, he turns away to look for Logan, and he'll walk out with his friend. It'll be a quiet ride home, certainly.

Rain will heal Carol only with her consent and Psylocke as well. But that will take a little time, and she's mindful not to interrupt someone else's throning. "Sorry," She offers quietly. Her healing magic is a little slow to deploy, but still - it's really darn good and scars are optional (She'll leave them if requested, if not, whelp.). Otherwise, she nods and carefully lets Pete take Ali. There's more than practicality at work, there. Maybe Rain's sympathetic. Yes.

With Doom leaving, Wolverine's attention turns towards Betsy... until she actually looks back at him; he doesn't try to maintain eye contact - or even look at her - for more than a moment, then.

"Ain't a lot left to say, from the looks of things," he murmurs in reply, sounding every bit the weary, hundred year old man he is. He turns to make his way out behind Pete and Ali; he glances absently in Kurt's direction when the elf nears, but his eyes are on the ground again soon enough.

Once Psylocke is healed, Carol will submit to a bit of healing herself. It does wonders for her energy level you see. Then she'll do the human flying taxicab trick, carrying folks, on a platform if need be, to the plane mentioned. She'll even fly escort all the way home. AFter all, every mile closer to home, is a mile closer to her new best friend.. Jack Daniels.

Domino doesn't want to look at anyone. She'd be perfectly content to disappear, to go somewhere dark and cold and be alone. The tranq pistol gets holstered, the merc staring at anything other than anyone else. Her tone lost a lot of its former edge, saying to no one in particular "Heal those that need it. Then get out of here."

Dom's going to find her own way home. By herself. She's done pretending to be their leader.

"Don't."

It's not spoken with the commitment she'd like, but Psylocke still manages to say it as she's wrapped in arms that might have been welcome, under different circumstances. Instead, she's mindfully aware that Carol smells of sweat and scorchmarks, that she's perhaps even fouler herself-- and that this, all of it, is just further indication of her failure. She's tense all over, though it's between shudders as her body rapidly weakens. As adrenaline burns away. She'll lose any battle regarding the healing, but merely closes her eyes as wounds reknit and bruises ease into smooth flesh, only flecks of dried blood remaining to remind her of what occurred...

But she won't forget. She says nothing more, stubbornly reticent and deep inside her own, hard thoughts as the others take their leave. Her only solace; that the rescue team at least extracted Carol and Blink, that this action at least wasn't for nothing.

And then, now, she waits.

Just outside, with a dead Ali on his shoulder, Pete calls back, "Get the fuck out here Betsy. Right fucking now. *I fucking brought people here from everywhere to get you out*. YOU. And Ali *died to get you out*. Get up."

Sigh, indeed. Dom wants to get out of here, she really does. She can also make good on one of her promises made to their original team leader. Silent other than the sound of heavy combat boots drifting across the hard floor, the dart pistol once more coming back into her hand.

Stop. Aim. Squeeze.

There's barely a report as compressed air carries the dart across the way, straight for Psylocke. "We all leave this place. Thank me later."

Hours later, on the plane ride home...

The cot where Dazzler was laid and covered with a blanket... stirs.

There's even muffled complaining, "Can't BREATHE with this blanket over my face!" As Dazzler throws the confounding thing OFF OF HER, she eyes the person closest to her and asks;

"How long was I out? Did we win?"

Rain has arrived.

That closest person quite drunkenly being Pete, he doesn't just startle, he lets out a shriek loud enough to wake the dead. Because funny that--

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!"

Seemingly oblivious to this entire exchange is the alabaster mercenary, sitting off by herself with a drink always close at hand and a battle carbine stripped down to its core, pieces laid out before her in a tidy, organized pattern. It might suggest a bit of OCD, if anyone is paying attention to her. Probably not, what with Dazzler coming back from the dead. Atta girl, show 'em all how it's done. She's welcome to the attention, Dom's only here because of free booze and not having to worry about sneaking so much ordnance through regular airlines.

Poor Pete. Rain looks overwhelmed. She's in a daze. Harvey sits on her hat now, looking as out of sorts as his master. She seems relieved then, if the dead haven't stayed so. As long as no one wants brains, grains or to fix drains. She sits cross legged with her hands in her lap near some books and looks just - startled! As Pete yells. "Um!" She goes to check on Pete, then, turning and -

"AAAUUUUGH!" Ali very nearly /falls off the cot/, still looking banged up and blonde, when Pete yells. Pushing the mask off of her face, she GLARES ACCUSINGLY at him. "What is the MATTER with you? You scared me half to death!"

And poor Pete indeed; he's got good damn whiskey on the tattered remnants of his shirt now. He was in as much of a cold drunk blur as Domino only seconds ago. And now he's a spectacle. "--half to-- YOU /WERE/ DEAD! Wait. WAIT. You're still dead. This is a fucking awful tease of a fucking nightmare at the end of the worst day in a very long time. LIE BACK DOWN, DEAD GIRL." He pushes ineffectively at her shoulder. Then gets a look at the hole in her shirt where the blast cooked right through her. And is distracted. Because drunk, and that's a bloody great hole in her shirt.

Man, can't those two keep it down over there? Dom's trying to be gloomy over here! And clean her firearms. And get utterly sloshed. She's still not saying anything, her presence only continually announced by the clicking and clacking of metal pieces as she strips and cleans one weapon after the next.

Okay, she'll say something, after all.

"I appreciate the lift, kid, but I'm not gonna kill her again for ya." She's such a problem-solver.

"..." Oh wow. Rain's eyes are wide. "You're alive!" She gasps. Rain seems a bit less fazed, but honestly, she comes from a family of Tarot-esque witches. Short of Cthulhu walking out in a bathrobe with a rolled up newspaper, it takes a lot to shock her in terms of miracles or horrors. "That's - wonderful! Inexplicable, but wonderful! Wait, you don't wanna eat our brains or anything do you?" Just to check. Her eyes widen. "Um. P-Pete, do you want something to eat or drink?" She looks concerned about the drunken British man and glances to Domino. "... yeah, that would be bad."

Pushed, Dazzler gets ready to holler right back about what do you MEAN dead, but then - well, she knows where people's eyes go when she's 'showing off' when she doesn't expressly mean to. Grabbing at the edges of the hole in her outfit, Ali yanks it closed as best she can and holds it there with both hands.

"EYES UP, NECROPHILIAC!" Wait. She eyes Pete, "What do you MEAN, -dead-?" Rain gets the eyeballing next, "Of /course/ I'm alive! What the hell is /wrong/ with all of you?"

"Well *now maybe*," Wisdom says to Rain, throwing his hands in the air and obligingly looking at her instead of Ali's lack of applicable shirt. He pushes himself up off the floor of the plane and starts to wobble back, then sits down heavily again, not entirely intentionally. "Jesus fuck. Shut up Domino. Did you do that? You did that didn't you. Fine, she's not dead, *you* get to slap Betsy when she wakes up." And then he lifts a foot and shoves lightly at the edge of the cot. "You were dead for nearly five hours. You probably have brain damage. I mean worse than bef-- HOW ARE YOU NOT DEAD."

Domino lets out a long breath, eyes closing and head rolling back as she blindly reaches out and catches her drink. "Go look in a mirror, already!" she blurts out before helping herself to a good, long drink. To Pete's remark about Betsy, she asks "Do I have to wait for her to wake up, first?"

Right. Where was she? Oh yeah, carbon fouling on the feed ramp.

Rain stands up. Harvey clings to her hat. "Well. We saw Doctor Doom basically blast a hole through you - that's what happened to your shirt," She explains. "For all intents and purposes - vital signs, soul energy, whatever you use - you were kaput," She adds. "Out of respect, we brought your body with us. And you seem to - be alive and well. That's why we're startled," She explains. "Um. Here." She slips her jacket off and holds it over. "I think you might want this so people don't stare and because it might get drafty." She takes a deep breath and looks to Pete. "You're - um."

Taking the offered jacket and using it to cover the front of her, Dazzler just ... well. Okay, a lot of really weird things have happened to her during the course of her awesome life... Color her confused. "I don't have the faintest fucking idea. I've been dead before, but well within the bounds of 'our rescue efforts totally brought you back to life.' /5 hours?/ No clue."

"'I've been dead before,' she says," mutters Pete, sprawling back against the wall and reaching over to get his own bottle, pour himself a new tumbler. His bleary eyes flicker to Rain, eyebrows up. "What, not drunk enough for this shit? Agreed." He huffs a breath, tosses back the whiskey, and then hauls himself to sit upright. Offers Ali the bottle. "Two hands. No waiting," he calls back to Domino.

Domino silently cheers Pete's remark about not being drunk enough, then..helps herself to another drink. And hey, now she's got his blessing and all for beating up a catatonic Betsy. So, things are starting to look up there. "Serious. Go look in a damn mirror." She's been there, not that long ago. Coming back from the dead, it's always important to get that visual reminder of who you really are. At least, it's helped her before.

Blink. "Wow. That's handy." Rain considers. "Well, it's a relief," She nods. "Um. You feel okay yeah?" No brains cravings? Phew. She tilts her head at Pete. "I am so going to put a water bottle and bottle of excedrin by you when you inevitably pass out," Yup. She's sympathetic. Harvey hangs onto her hat and she looks thoughtful. "But yeah, that's about the long and short of what happened. There's a mirror in - um, there's one..." Uh.

"Sentiment appreciated, but until you told me I had no /idea/ I was dead. I don't feel like I was dead. Pretty well rested, all things considered." There's a little defensiveness in Ali's tone, mostly because she's got a jacket covering her boobs, but she doesn't sound full of it, either. "I'm /fine./" She'll take that drink, though - Pete hands over the bottle, and she takes a healthy swig before handing it back.

"You're too bloody good to me, Rain," Pete says, using the wall of the plane to pick himself up now, wobbling. He takes the bottle back, looks in slight confusion between Domino and Alison. "The fuck is a mirror for?" From the look on his face, he's pretty sure he's not awake. Still.

"It's slang for 'take another hit,'" Domino smoothly replies while following through on her own, finally putting the drink aside to focus--pinch the bridge of her nose--on the dissected rifle surrounding her. With a few clicks and a smacking of her hands against blackened steel she frees up the bolt and separates it into two pieces, then into four.

God, aren't they home -yet?- This is gonna be a long fucking flight. Sure she could pass the time with comments like 'you did good out there' but, frankly, she doesn't want to talk nor think about that botched 'job.' There are many other, better, things to let her mind pick apart much like her fingers do with her toys.

"... I'm sorry." Rain looks a bit sheepish. She at least backs off. There's a faint smile at Pete. "Nah, that's what friends are for. Just um, careful walking there." Her eyebrows lift. Then a pause. "Oh." Her eyes widen a bit. Slang is lost on Rain sometimes. She'll sit back down, Harvey hanging onto her hat. "Well, we're glad you're okay even if it startled us," She smiles faintly. Deep breath.

"Yeah that doesn't make any sense," Pete grumbles Domino-wards. He sighs, rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes, and lurches a little at some passing turbulence. "I'm sleeping until Brooklyn. Unless someone has a pack of cards." Pause. Sway. He eyes Rain. "Do you have cards? Playing cards. Because it's poker night."

Both brows arched, Alison looks over at Domino and says dryly, "Something tells me he's going to be really annoyed when he wakes up in the morning and finds out he's not dreaming."

"You're getting drunk, Wisdom," Domino oh so helpfully reminds the other guy, "it doesn't have to make sense." Then more to herself, she mutters "Not like anything else here does." When Alison says something to her she glances back at the other woman, thinking aloud "Probably not half as pissed as Betsy's gonna be when she comes back 'round." Eugh, friggin' turbulence! With a frustrated exhale of breath she reaches out with a very deliberate motion and catches one of those rifle parts, her motions almost exaggerated as she puts it -right- back where it belongs. "Can't believe this rickety old tub is the best he could get," she grumbles under her breath.

"Yeah. Harvey and I play sometimes, why?" She peers at Pete. "You should sit then," A faint smile. Rain looks vaguely concerned. She looks between the two, wincing at the turbulence. SHe says nothing on the quality of the plane. "Um. I guess you can play cards with us if you like? I'm not sure if that's offensive..."

"Only if they're naked lady cards. And even then, the old-timey naked lady cards are comparatively classy these days." Playing cards, offensive? Alison puts the jacket on properly while Pete isn't overtly looking, carefully zipping it up so that she can use her hands for things other than holding up modesty guards. "I think I'm gonna rest. Apparently I was dead, so, a nap sounds in order."

"O," says Pete determinedly, "kay. And fuck yes I am." That last's directed triumphantly toward Domino. "And I was thinking-- that. Was a good idea. A minute ago. I'll play cards with you later. Ali if you're really not dead I'm really glad. I'll tell you what you missed-- when-- uh." Okay, that stagger wasn't turbulence. Pete braces himself on the wall again. "When I can remember." He pauses for a moment, trying to remember what he was just about to do. And then he looks down at the bottle in his hand. "I'll be... over there."

"Only if you all keep the damn volume down over there," Domino's resorting to whispering while slowly rubbing her forehead, and getting a bit of a black carbon smudge across her ghostly pale skin along the way. She can only take so much of other people right now, passing out sounds like a better alternative than having to deal with anyone else for the next few hours. Her hands move swiftly to reassemble the carbine, intent on setting it aside for now. She'll jab -herself- with a freaking tranq dart if she must.

Rain pauses. She looks confused by the whole thing. "Okay," She shrugs and smiles. She'll set the water and excedrin by Pete if nothing else. Otherwise she'll be quiet and play solitare while Harvey watches.