2012-12-27 Alien, human, mutant... we're all gonna die.

Times Square 12/27/12

It's chilly and grey on this post-Christmas, pre-New Year's evening. People are hustling and bustling in this LED-lit, video-drenched center of theater and theme food. Plenty of cars and taxis, even more people on foot... musical attenders, food service employees, delivery guys and even late-working business-folk in suits. Most just happy not to be in a flood or an alien invasion. Nothing stops for long here. The feeling is festive, if not particularly jacked-up.

Okay, Carol went home last night and she didn't stay sober very long. She dozed off in what -was- a hot bath, with a bottle of Vodka in her hand... mostly empty by the time she fell asleep in the tub. Today, she woke up in a tub that was cool... a quick charge of her hand heated it up again and she sighed. Even she gets pruny if in the water too long. When she got up out of the water... she discovered a new problem. Hangover... So, six ibuprofin later, she stumbled over to her liquor cabinet only to find it empty. . o o O O (That explains why I was drinking Vodka... I hate Vodka.)

So, now she must venture out into the ... by Pama, it's evening already and dark outside. She puts on sunglasses though as well as street clothes before heading out. Everyone knows that the LED's and headlights of cars and all can be horrible even when -not- hung over. So it is that she's strolling down the sidewalk towards a local liquor store.

First real Christmas for Nate and he is kinda sick of the whole thing. So much fake-happiness and buying and selling of junk. Only some children seem genuinely happy. Oh, and the music is really annoying. Still, he finds his mild annoyance somewhat amusing, almost a sign that he is getting native. Also, there are some good new movies and he still likes to watch people, so he is hanging out in Time Square, considering movies, considering coffee too, watching the crowds of living, happy, or fake-happy people.

One restaurant has sadly had its own version of an alien invasion, albeit not the largest alien, but one with an appetite that makes many ponder where he puts it. Broo somewhat unceremoniously is shoved out of the All-You-Can-Eat Pizza Parlor, the owner shouting about just take the boxes of Pizza and never come back. The stack of 3 dozen Pizza Boxes looking like the leaning and swaying tower of Pizza as the little Broodling walks out into the night, smiling. Seems after all his trying, he finally did find a Pizza Den, Hunted the Pizza with skill, and Bagged... or at least boxed... the den limit. He can hardly see as he cranes his neck to look around his Pizza pile. And then grits his teeth as he looks at the wristwatch like broken holoimager on his left wrist, "Why do you itch so much? You don't even work anymore... stop itching..." snapping his teeth as he tries to scratch the itch with his mouth without dropping his boxes...

And then the festivities begin. There are muffled cries and what could be explosions filtering out from the entrance to the nearest subway stop. Flashes of light strobe out as then people begin to stream up out of the stairs at an accelerated rate, some screaming, all panicked. And then a figure on a Huffy rockets up through them, clearing the street level and continuing on up in an arc that suggests something north of 75 mph. About fifty feet above the ground and the onlookers below, Noh-varr pulls the handlebars towards himself, leaning back, back, back and then kicks the "borrowed" bike off across the street and into the mouth of a lion decorating the sign over a particular blockbuster. With a crash and attendant spray of sparks, the bike is wedged in the king of the jungle's jaws.

Noh-varr's legs straighten with the kick, rising up above him as the two guns coalesce in his hands, his upside down head snapping to the subway entrance and his sites following. VORP VORP VORP. Blue-white energy bolts pepper a group of businessmen in black suits and... sunglasses? really? at night?... just as they reach the top. Retaining a shocking amount of calm they scatter as the cement at their feet buckles and warps.

Hey! Sunglasses at night? They could just be all hung over too, as a group, all at once... right. Carol pauses on the sidewalk. The light flashing didn't really draw her attention. After all she'd been trying to avoid looking at flashing lights. However, a BMX crazy kid doing moves like that... is difficult to ignore. She's happy to just stand and ogle... watching in a bewildered manner, until things get... gunny. Yes, that's a word tonight, gunny.

Blinking, she doesn't have herjudgement impaired tonight. She just has a killer headache.... so, a yellow flash ripples its way up from her feet to her head. When it finishes its near light speed trip up her body, she's in her black bodysuit, red sash, and domino mask. "Why tonight?" she asks aloud as she starts stalking towards the subway and the events going on near there, a hand held up and glowing as she does the whole, "SHIELD! Step aside!" routine on her way. Why fly right now after all?

Last time Nate saw a bunch of guys in sunglasses at night they were goons from some agency or place called 'Cadmus'. He didn't like them too much. On the other hand firing energy weapons in a crowded Times Square seems like a problem too, something prone to cause mass panic and a human stampede. Grumbling a curse, he takes off too, trying to see what is happening more clearly. Just in time to see Carol flying too. SHIELD, uh? Interesting, but he is more interested in finding out what is going on, so he tries a brief mind-scan on the sunglassed guys.

Last time Nate saw a bunch of guys in sunglasses at night they were goons from some agency or place called 'Cadmus'. He didn't like them too much. On the other hand firing energy weapons in a crowded Times Square seems like a problem too, something prone to cause mass panic and a human stampede. Grumbling a curse, he takes off too, trying to see what is happening more clearly. Just in time to see Carol trying to get there. SHIELD and in one of those costumes, uh? Interesting, but he is more interested in finding out what is going on, so he tries a brief mind-scan on the sunglassed guys.

As the commotion occurs, Broo stops trying to scratch his itch, and sniffs the air, his crest peaking some as he smells a familiar scent... well okay, it is slightly different, sweet pour seaping chemicals have been replaced by vanilla, but that doesn't exactly make it a bad difference, and then there is the other scent... it isn't one he knows individually, but he knows the species well. Caution being the better part of valor, Broo extends his wings, and begins to fly up, somehow still keeping his pizza pile precariously poised. He keeps close to a wall, so he can stop flying and climb if he has to. The view is decent, and he can see Carol in action from a much better vantage point then he did the last time the encountered one another.

The men-in-black-suits' scatter is far from random to astute eyes or otherwise sensory-organs. It's like the six men and one woman (her suit has a skirt, not pants) move out, in and about knowing exactly where each other are at all times, maximizing coverage and minimizing any likelihood of being hit. They each reach into their jacket and withdraw shiny, evil gun-like things and begin to return fire at the young Kree with glowing payload. Meanwhile, the pedestrians in the general area have picked up the panic and are trying to make their way around, through and over the automobiles in the now locked-up street. A large, orange moving van is just creeping into the square before realizing (too late!) that this was not the right way to go.

Above, the upside-down pendulum swing continues as Noh-varr's head and arms begin to rise toward the side with the lion and the bike, his legs now swinging down until he is perfectly vertical again, though this time right-side up. Neuroelectrical, phosphorescent blobs shoot past him, under his arms, between his legs, over his head, none touching him, and then past. He lands silently on the side of the building right above the sputtering lit lion. Standing. On the wall. Ninety degrees. Parallel to the ground. Both arms outstretched and still firing a track of energy bolts at the quickly-closing corporate raiders. The woman among them swivels her head evilly and focuses on Ms Marvel before touching one ear and speaking a few words. Then her attention is back on Noh-varr as she moves in organically with her compatriots.

There is a fuzziness to their minds that appears to Nate... static that begins to clear until it looks something like a UHF channel in the 70s. Some of them show chimps in clothing driving cars and using guns. Another shows a mushroom world and a boy with a flute. Yet another features buck-toothed beans made of seaweed. The entire budget for these worlds must have been below a thousand dollars. It seems some kind of training or modification is in effect here, blocking their thoughts. If they have any.

>>PLEX!<< Noh-varr broadcasts via Omniwave. >>WHERE ARE YOU!?<< No answer. VORP VORP VORP. More destruction of surface near the pursuers, though nothing near anyone else.

Shaking her head, Ms. Marvel simply gets all frustrated. "Okay you sucktastic goon squad..." she begins, launching herself into the air with the direct intent of diverting to be in the way of the shots going either way. She doesn't know who Noh-Varr is either, and figures... better their energy discharges hit her and be absorbed than hit bystanders. "Everyone... cease *bleeep*ing fire before I get nasty!" she offers, both hands glowing brightly golden yellow, one hand pointed towards the group of thugs and one pointed towards Noh-Varr. She really is in -no- mood for messing around... hangovers -suck-.

Nate does a double take at the very weird mental thing in the men in black minds. That is some funny mind-shielding. Alright, no more prying telepathically, it takes him too long and there is a gunfight in the middle of Time Square. It is much easier to knock everyone out and ask later, yeah! "Stop shooting, you idiots!" He flies down, landing between Noh-Varr and the suits, glowing golden with protective telekinetic energy, and then raising a TK-wall between them.

Neither fleeing, nor choosing to toss himself into the middle of things, Broo remains hovering, watching, observing, and perhaps analyzing. He sniffs the air and tilts his head, but remains silent for the time being, letting matters play out. His abdomen gurgles and he frowns a bit, realizing he can't exactly just reach up and grab a pizza out of the boxes.

The truck is creeping along, leaning on its horn as people crawl across it. In frustration, the driver steps on the gas, craning into the limo in front of him and then continuing. Pushing it from the corner until it begins to turn sideways. This guy does not want to wait.

The bespoke-barbarians swivel, forming a fluid circle facing outward, guns held up before them, bobbing as they move in a way that’s almost hypnotic and random enough to make it hard to track them. Again, they all seem to be in some kind of synch. They are covering Carol now, globules flying in her direction. The woman swivels to look at Carol, and then Nate. A touch to the ear. A few more words. All the while firing. They are all firing, all covering each other and managing to switch off firing on Noh, MM and Nate. Any that hit MM are quickly absorbed, dying and losing all luminescence. The ones that hit the TK shield bzzzt and die as well. A moment where all of the attackers pause for the exact same second, where they all flick a switch on their guns, and they they are shooting explosive flechettes, atom’s-width sharp followed up by grenade-like blasts. Apparently they do not give a damn if they take out the entire block at this point.

Noh-varr looks mildly amazed for a moment at the appearance of Ms Marvel and then pissed at the finger imperiously pointed his way. His profanity is cut off before it begins as Nate lifts the shield to protect him and his first real feeling of gratitude towards anything having to do with this pathetic planet manifests.

There is a hum that becomes noticeable. Way down low almost beneath hearing. From the street, the surrounding walls and the windows. A vibration that does not bode well. It begins to rise.

Suddenly—and I do mean suddenly—some kind of jet roars overhead and then is gone. At least it should have roared. That’s what they typically do when they’re moving at mach 10. Windows should be pureeing flesh into paste in the street. Everything should be i shambles. But the damned thing was silent. And now the hum is vanishing. Oh, there’s that silvery canister that it launched. Right. The one that hurtles down through a recently abandoned Fiat 500 (vaporizing it) and smashing into the street like some bloated, unexploded bomb from WWII London. It’s featureless, mirrored chrome. About 20 feet long. No seams on it, no obvious opening.

Well, the good news is.. the energy globs are absorbed, feeding her reserves and amping Ms. Marvel's blasts just a bit. Even better news, Noh-Varr didn't attack her immediately... and these losers -did-. As soon as she absorbs the first salvo, she's already in motion towards them. Both hands splay out and a shot of her photonic energy lances out towards two of them even as she's charging a third. "You people have -zero- respect for headaches and bad days!" She's tough against projectiles too, just nowhere near as tough as she is against energy.

She has the third target, the one she was charging, held by the neck in one hand when that silver thing lands. She's got a couple cuts from the flechette's and a couple convenient tears in that formerly pristine costume of hers. But when the thing impacts the ground, her eyes snap right towards it. "By Hala!" she exclaims as she absently, casually tosses her opponent aside and is racing for the silver... thingamagoober (technical term there folks).

You paged Nate Grey with ‘Exactly. Something obscenely fast, unnaturally silent and somehow without setting off air raid alarms.’

If there was any doubt in Nate's mind the goons in black were the problem it is quickly dispelled. He tends to favour the underdog anyway. Explosive bullets? What is next, plasma grenades? "Alright, I asked nicely once!" (Calling them idiots was him being nice, you see). His left eye glows brightly and a stream of telekinetic force sweeps towards the goons, shattering concrete and brick, and the bones of goons if they get hit. He is not going for deadly force, but certainly not too worried to cause serious injury. The attack gets briefly interrupted by the fall of the chrome thing. What-he-hell-is-that? Nevermind. He blasts again.

Energy blast were bad enough, but now micro fletchettes, this bodes bad for many people. Broo finds a ledge and carefully places his pizza boxes on the ledge, splitting them into two piles of 18, before trying something sort of crazy. First he places the a pizza in a huge pile of slices in his mouth, then closes his mouth, then closes the empty box, and finally flings the cardboard boxe like paper frisbees or shuriken, aiming for the weapons hands of each of the suited people, repeating the eat and attack technique over and over until he has either disarmed them all, or run out of pizza and boxes, whichever comes first... or at least that is his plan... how it may change depends on what happens.

The “guy” MM was carrying smacks into a telephone pole hard enough to dent it and goes down. He’s not moving. He’s not breathing. However, since on closer notice none of them seem to be breathing, this shouldn’t be a problem. The rest of them turn to converge on MM until she focuses on the tube and moves towards it. At that, they turn again towards Nate and Noh-varr. Their guns are click-flaked again and now extend into some kind of energy-based police batons. SMASH! goes the TK into them like a bowling ball through pins. They scatter like pins, ricocheting off of cars and each other, and crumpling to the ground. Before they begin to stand again. As does the one Carol left behind. Batons still in hand. Which is when the pizza boxes spin in. Catching the gusts of telekinetic forces going this way and that, they veer this way and that, flip and open, and manage to stick gooily thanks to leftover cheese over the faces of two attackers and the weapons of two others.

The truck pushes aside the limo, a taxi and runs over a Harley before pulling up over the curb and onto the sidewalk across the street from Noh-varr and Nate. The driver leans down and pulls something, causing the walls and roof of the back of the truck to fold down. Revealing one ugly alien. At least he must be an alien. Elongated, pasty head with no nose, only nostrils. And a fu manchu beard. An orange, quilted robe with vertical pleats. And some kind of metallic spider-crown that sends a spine down the back of his head and into the base of his neck. It lights up. The membranes over his eyes flick back and lambent pupils spy a TK shield. RRRRRAAAAAAAWWWWRRRRRRK. That’s the sound of pain/rage he makes as a focused tsunami of psi-power passes through metal and living flesh without effect before smashing into Nate’s protection.

Noh-varr’s guns have finished turning into... nunchuks?... in time for his eyes to widen at the psychic attack. He leaps like a bug, hitting the ground beside Nate in a crouch, grabbing the mutant around the waist, and then attempting to leap both of them above and over what will surely be a shattering shield and down into the heart of the black-suited attackers and, sadly, much closer to the screaming, psionic alien.

From within the canister there is a smash of metal hitting metal, then silence. Then two more smashes. Silence. “Damn. Oh damn damn damn.” A muffled voice. Ladylike. Warbly. Something familiar about it. Just as MM slows upon reaching it, dents begin appearing from inside of it shaped vaguely like fists. Slow, then fast then like a machine gun.

Well, Ms. Marvel doesn't slow -much- upon reaching the silver pod. She's already crouching down to scoop the thing up. "No you don't..." she mutters as she sees those machinegun like dents. She's planning to turn whatever is inside into walking, talking Yahtzee dice. Shake shake shake rooollllll. But to do this, she slides a hand down under the thing, gouging the concretebelow it a bit deeper before flexing her legs and arms and hoisting the thing up over her head, hands digging in to provide grip. "Wrong day. Wrong people, by Pama you're all going to suffer for this." she mutters.

Nate glares at the goons as they get up, "really, standing up is the worst idea you have had today." Although at least they are not shooting anymore, so he can forget about the telekinetic wall. Or that was the plan when the truck arrives. Yes, he saw the truck before, but it was not overly hostile until now. The mutant (or alien) that gets down is definitely hostile and Nate half-turns to face it, confident his powers will protect him. Noh-Varr seems to think otherwise, though! "What now! Hey!" Yanked! 'Cause he failed to anchor himself again. "Who are you anyway?" He growls to the Kree boy, pulling away and falling into a fighting stance, since he is surrounded by goons. "And who are your 'friends'?"

Okay, so his plan didn't work exactly as expected, but it worked. I was a potential outcome he predicted, not the desired one, but an acceptable alternative. Then Broo's expression gets confused as the other Alien shows up, one that's behavior doesn't remotely match what he knows of them. He grabs the last of his Pizzas and flies down toward Carol, "Pretty Smelling Half-Kree Half-Terran Lady. Do you know why the nonfighter being is attacking? They are supposed to be peaceful and helpful, not roaring and aggressive." hoping Carol may have a clue to what to do.

Even in the midst of this insane battle, with rubble and energy flying everywhere, Noh-varr hears Ms Marvel call out to the gods of his ancestors. WTF? He files it away for later as he lines up back to back with Nate and begins circling in the center of the enemy, the weapons in his hands beginning to spin.. “The name is Noh-varr. I’m the guy who’s going to save you. All of you,” he snarls. He means the whole damned planet. “And they’re not my friends. The belong to Midas.” The flash of pain/anguish/homicidal rage that comes up with that name is not something he could keep from Nate even if he tried... it involves the murder of his family, his lover, his own torture and the abuse of one remaining friend. But then it’s gone and the Kree nods abruptly, indicating the bastards around them. “Talk later. Fight now. Can you do something about the Aedian over there before he thinks us into mush?” Any further talk is cut short as the attackers attack in synch andcNoh-varr begins to teach Midas’s goon squad what he learned watching a marathon of Bruce Lee films in the Limbo Suite. Waaaaaaaaaa-HAH! SMACK! BASH! BAMBAMBAM! He is like liquid mercury as he dips, and rises, rolls, and cartwheels, keeping himself in the middle of them all so they have trouble unloading on him, dancing around Nate as well but with an awareness that allows them to work together rather than at cross purposes. Both sets of nunchaku flickering out in blurs, in ways that would crush normal skulls like watermelons.

On the truck bed the dead-like alien’s head is drooped, membranes down, as if resting. But his head tracks Nate’s every move. And after another moment, the membranes flick back up, eyes lit again and a blue psychic energy coalesces around the creature, a psionic avatar in the form of some deadly alien... marmoset! The alien’s body floats up as if hanging in the center of the bluish construct, which roars and steps down off of the truck, moving towards Nate.

Just as the container reaches the high point above MM’s head, it explodes outward with enough power to drive the unsuspecting heroine to her hands and knees. From the smoke and debris, a figure steps forward. It’s... ULTRON 13!? Phew. No. Huh, it looks a lot like him. Only if he was a woman. And with red and black thighs, calves, arms. The rest is the right chromey adamantium look. And there are those crazy razor wings on the forearms, like U13. “Oh my my my,” says the oddly high-pitched, warbly voice as it advances on Carol. “You can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs, hm?” Alkhema kicks MM in the ribs. Hard.

A young girl in a hoodie of her own runs up from behind some wreckage and tugs on Broo's sleeve. "Psst! Orale! What are you, stoopid?" She tugs with both hands now. "You'll get killed! Leave it to the idiots!"

Being driven to hands and knees is just a brief pause for Ms. Marvel, but as she's starting to get back up, a boot connects with her ribs. More like a solid metal foot. It's just as strong as she is, and she's propeled through the air and into the side of a brick building. Not into... -through- the bricks. Well, one thing about the Hangover, it's suddenly forgotten as a spike of anger runs through Carol. Nate can tell that she's still kicking. "Try that again you tin plated bitch!" she screams as she comes hurtling out of the building in a maneuver that might at first... just seem like it's a shoulder ram. But Carol uses her pilot instincts, and twists at the last second to zip past the robot right at waist level, hopefully ducking under any counterattack being made... but she snakes an arm out and does her best to grapple the thing and lift it into the air.... snaking in to try to restrain it from behind. Full Nelson anyone?

Nate can feel the anger in Noh-Varr voice. It tastes familiar, and makes him grit his teeth. "Yeah. Not much in the being saved business, way too late for me." He looks at the psychic alien with curiosity, pretty much ignoring the goon that tries to bash him on the head. The baton bounces, but he grabs the man's wrist and twists it violently. Then, behind the Aedian, the truck rises on the air, and as the alien is about to strike, it smashes into him with a crunching sound of shattered metal and glass.

Broo has no idea who the girl is, but with Carol's foe being a machine, Broo feels no qualms about damaging it, and tugs his shirt away, "No, very much not stupid. I am actually highly erudite. And the likelihood of my life functions being ended is not pertinent, what is important is helping to minimize casualties and end this conflict expediently." he then flips onto the chest of the android female beign wrestled with by Carol, "Nice smelling Lady, see if you can locate any posterior access panels, I will check the anterior. Perhaps we can convert your foe into an ally to aid in the apprehension of the hostile beings." already, scurrying up and down Alkhema in hopes of finding atleast an exposed set of wires or something he can break off to use to create a makeshift prybar.

Noh-varr exults in this violence against these abominations, working his rage out on these employees of the Midas Group. The sound of the truck smashing into the Aedian catches his attention. A moment of sadness for the once-gentle being. Forever ruined by that armored monstrosity and his greed. And, practically speaking, one less worry. One less biiig worry. “Nice,” he spares for Nate. Of the group, only the woman, the leader, is now left standing. The rest are on the ground or embedded in windshields or there’s that one hanging from a lamp. The last one is twitching and jerking. Not moving too well. But she’s trying to touch her ear and getting closer. VORP. No more ear. Problem solved. Noh-varr lowers the hand holding the once-nunchuku-now-gun as she collapses to the ground, holding the side of her head. “I think we’ve got a bigger problem, though.” The robot.

Not expecting such a swift recovery, MM pulls her maneuver off like clockwork. She whizzes right under a swinging arm, replete with adamantium hook that could have gut her like a trout. Instead the hero finds herself behind the murder machine, full nelson locked in. “Oh no no no, dearie me no, this won’t do at all,” warbles Alkhema. The problem here is that a full nelson works on a human due to the lack of leverage of muscle and how the arms are attached. Our shoulders only work in a limited range... a problem this robot doesn’t have. As Broo attaches himself to the robot and begins poking around, Alkhema’s arms fling straight out to each side and her torso begins to spin with the feet rooted to the asphalt. She picks up speed with MM hanging on. In between revolutions, “her” red eyes flicker on Broo and then down to the girl watching them. “A human. All humans must die. *I* must kill all humans. One at a time.” Funny, the voice was totally different than the warbly one. It was typical sexy homicidal female robot when it said that. About killing the girl. And while still spinning. With Ms Marvel holding on. And Broo holding on. Which is when the electroshocking begins.

Well, this would be going flawlessly were it not for the... wait, is that the Brood thing from last night? "Wait, you want me to check out her ass and see if I can invade her that way? Nut-uh... not on my worst day Roach." Yeah, that's her name for Broo now. And the full nelson has one other mild effect. Carol and the robot are literally evenly matched for strength, so sometimes it's less about leverage, and more about brute force and just wanting to be -behind- the thing. Then... the electroshocking, and Ms. Marvel just grins. She doesn't say a word there, but she closes her eyes and kicks on that absorption, trying to deafeat the bot in a way that doesn't involve the need to damage adamantium. She's trying to suck it's power core dry... without truly overloading -herself- in the process. But just in case that might happen... she's trying to launch herself -and- it into the air at as much speed as she can produce. "Might wanna let go little guy." she mutters through gritted teeth to Broo. "This.. is going to get ugly."

If it was possible for a Brood to grin sadistically... wait, that is probably how they usually grin, if they actually grin at all... Broo actually seems almost joyful, "And here I thought the Pizza was enjoyable." yeah, energy, especially electricity, not usually the best weapon on a species who use bioelectrical attacks as one of their most common ones, and absorb most energy like sponges soak up water... Alkhema may be stronger the Broo, but she chose the wrong attack to use, and with both Broo and Carol absorbing the energy, the indestructible gynoid may find herself needing new batteries. However, the comment about the human does cause Broo to move and react. He grabs up one of his full boxes of pizza, and instead of eating it, he starts cramming the cooking mushroom, chicken, garlic, spinach, extra cheese, extra sauce, pizza slices into every orifice Alkhema has, trying to block any beam projection, or atleast make targeting near impossible. He does add to Carol, "I meant any portion of her back, back of her head, whatever passes for her shoulder and lower back regions, and yes, even her pelvic area in back. I will endevour to be more clear in my requests in the future. And please do not call me Roach. I am Broo, that is what my friends Kitty Pryde and Jubilee designated me. They said it was cute, and I like cute, because cute is not scary, and I do not want to be scary."

Nate, of course, knows nothing about Ultron or Alkhema. Killer robots? They used to be 30 feet tall. "Looks like that SHIELD woman has things under control," he notes, although ready to strike at the robot if it/she escapes. "Midas, you say? Is that a person or another of those secret societies with access to advanced weapons and super-soldiers? Sometimes it feels there are dozens of them."

New-kyu-lar generator, baby. Beneath an adamantium shell. Them Ultrons is built fer killin’! Hard to drain. Sadly not too hard to plaster mozzarella on. Hard to tell if any gets inside, but the robot does have to take a moment to fry the dairy product off of its sensors. “This is not how we do things in Paris!” it hollers, the warble back in its voice, right before MM launches the three of them skyward.

Noh-varr’s eyebrow arches appreciatively as he watches the show. “Insane. All of them. Both.” That last word in answer to Nate, though it might not be obvious. He slaps his hands together and pulls them apart, pulling a liquid metal rifle of sorts back with them. Golden. Covered in jewels and floating readouts. “I can’t believe how much violence your world requires,” he says as he ponders what payload to use. A thought strikes him. “Say, you couldn’t rummage around inside that robot from here, could you? Maybe disconnect something?”

You see, simply draining dry isn't exactly Carol's primary plan. If it'd worked, great... but she was planning another idea. "Seriously..." she says as she continues to absorb the energy out of that reactor. "You might..." and she's glowing now, what look like flames licking off of her hands and feet, and her hair is even starting to look like a bit of flames. ".. not want... " yep, still gritted teeth here... ".. to stick around..." Her end all be all plan will suck and hurt, but... if she can get high enough, then when she simply detonates all the stored energy within herself... she might be able to at least -fry- the machine if not damage it.

"Oh, but this world is perfectly fine. And peaceful," replies Nate. "It could be much, much worse." As for manipulating a robot from the inside, he... will try. His eyes narrow, the left one glowing brightly. No, he can't get his telekinesis through the adamantium shell. "What the hell... I can't even scratch that thing. What is it made off?"

There is sudden glint of recognition, flaming hair, not the Phoenix, but to the Brood perhaps something far worse. He nods, "Yes Slaughterer of Brood, destroyer of Hives, she who burns with the power of all the flames of the 'Flock' combined." slamming more pizza onto Alkhema's face, and then leaping off and swooping down. He gulps as he realizes how close to Death herself twice in as many nights... not Death the being that Thanos loves, not some goth girl with an ankh, not even Hel or Hades, no... to the Brood, the being that represents Death is Carol Danvers... and Broo has met her and lived to tell about it... twice.

“I don’t see how. As far as I can tell you all spend your lives in varying degrees of delusion, killing each other or driving each other insane through starvation, abuse, constant warfare and brainwashing. How can you stand it?” Noh then shrugs by way of answering “Idunno” to the question about the metal. “Something bad. Everything Midas uses is bad. Or at least is bad now even if it wasn’t before.” A frown. “I need to get out of here before more show up. You need to get out of here too. I’m sure he saw everything.” A pizza box blows up onto his leg. He bends down and lifts it. One slice left and some greasy wax paper. Noh rolls the slice up in the paper and begins eating the whole thing. Then he tears of some greasy cardboard and starts eating that. “This is good. Really good. What is it?” Apparently getting out here now can wait long enough for a bite of junk food. “Is that a Brood? He *really* needs to get out of here. Midas like vivisecting aliens.”

By the time Alkhema and Ms Marvel breach the atmosphere, the robot is sputtering, red eyes flickering with the unlit parts longer and longer. “No one is born a great cook...” the warble is oh-so-weak in the near-vacuum. “One learns...by doing it.” FRZTL. Dead. The energy coursing through Carol now is... well, it’s a whole lot. So much that she cannot concentrate on keeping ahold of the robot which floats away from her and slowly begins to tumble back into the atmosphere, glowing red after a bit and then turning into a flaming meteor, soon to be a meteorite somewhere in the Middle East. Hopefully without starting a war. Leaving Ms Marvel to her predicament.

Up there, Carol is a glowing beacon of power. She is bleeding off energy omnidirectionally, but once she's let go of the robot, she aims so very carefully, dropping down as well so that a miss won't take out a city, but will just skip off the atmosphere.. She worked for NASA, and thinks about things like that. But she is going to give every erg of power she has, every ounce of will she can muster up, and pour it all out of both hands. It's reminiscent of when she destroyed the Brood homeworld, but that's only in how it feels going out. It's nothing like her full Binary level of energy. She does have the whole aura thing going right now though. She's in just a bit of atmosphere, so anyone near her would be able to hear the, "NNNNnnnnnnnggggggg!" as she almost pushes with every muscle of her body, trying to eject it all... in one searing pulse of power. That flare streaks across the sky and envelops the falling robot. Okay, so she can't melt Adamantium, but anything inside or out that isn't made of that special metal, is -gone-. Vaporized. CPU, weapons, the nuclear power core. She did manage to -blacken- the shell though.... and then.. Carol is falling. Most folks might think she was flying straight down, but at the moment, she's fighting to breathe. Without the energy storage she normally maintains from just ambient power... she can't really survive up there. But she's coming down... fast. There's one plus side, she's absorbing some heat from the re-entry burns.... but it isn't going to be enough.

Fighting instinct, Broo knows math and science, and knows the difference between a controlled dive and a terminal velocity freefall. He closes his eyes, and begins to fly back up, heading to intercept. He isn't super fast, he can't reach sonic speeds, but that might be a good thing, he just has to get to her, allow himself to reach the same velocity beside her, and then slow her descent until they're safely flying... pizza pie, antsy as cake... really. Not likely he'll make it before someone else does something more spectacular, but Carol saved lives, least Broo can do is try to save hers. And if she decides to claim his life, then that is life...

"There could be a genetic war going where nuclear weapons are used liberally," comments Nate bleakly. He follows Miss Marvel with his eyes and his telepathy as she flies up at high speed, far higher he could go. "Alright, she managed to drain the robot power. Hope she can control it." Pause, "damnit, she is now almost unconscious, I have to catch her." Or Broo will, but the little alien doesn't look fast enough. He glances at Noh-Varr. "I want to know more about Midas, I am in the business of... taking care of that kind of scum." Then he switches to telepathy to talk to the Kree, |"if you allow me, I will link with your mental signature, then I will be able to track you down for a while."| Then he takes off, flying upwards at nearly supersonic speed, trying to intercept Carol before she hits the ground.

It's a Christmas miracle a few days late as for just a moment the sun shines at night. A sun. A whole lot of nocturnal animals as well as burglars are probably scared out of their skins by the effect of so many billions of joules of energy coursing through a hunk of adamantium. Everything inside of Julia, I mean Alkhema, is first fused then melted then solidified then vaporized, leaving a simple hunk of priceless, priceless adamantium to crash-land in the middle of the Antarctic Ocean.

Below, chewing cardboard thoughtfully, Noh squints in the afterglow of the event. "Righteous." He can't make out a tiny falling figure from this distance. "Okay. It's time for me to go. Be safe. Be sane. Thank you. Hey, where is he flying off to?" Finally he sees what's happening. But he also notices the flashing lights of emergency responders. Come on. Come on.

Falling falling falling, down, down... warm.. she's starting to wake up, groggy. Her first thought is... wow, my hair is really gonna need some TLC after this. I can see it all in front of my face. Like there's a giant blowdryer firing at my head from behind. It's even warm.... and yeah, licks of flame and such are flickering about her before each is sucked into her body. Then suddenly she stops falling and her hair and body are limp. Her head turns towards Nate and she raises a brow. "Wow, my hero. Gonna kiss the girl?" she asks, still not quite with it.

Nate manages to catch Carol and still had a couple spare miles. Yeah, so he is definitely getting good at flying. Now where? The big flying thing SHIELD has over Central Park. "Sure I will," he answers the blonde woman, grinning, "as soon as you are fully awake. Wouldn't want to miss it, hmm?"

He tried hard, he wanted to help, but sadly Broo is not as quick as these other guys. He isn't a swift, so he doesn't get the girl. It is sad that the nice smart guys get upstaged the cool guys and jocks. He sighs and slowly turns back, peering over Manhattan, the city he has stranded himself in. Idly he scratches the dermal layer near the busted holoimager watch on his left wrist... well at least he finally got to scratch the itching some, but he wasted pizzas, and the rest have probably been stolen, or at least raided and eaten.

Noh-varr waits until he sees the save. Then he notices the emergency workers pointing him out to some policemen and the SHIELD agents joining them. The remain of the suit and the Aedian are being carried into unmarked vans. Back to Midas. Bummer. But on the bright side, some unknowing and noble soul introduced Noh-varr to the deliciousness of pizza box. That’s the Kree's cue. One foot steps onto the side of the nearest building, then the other. A quick 90 mph sprint up and over and onto the roof and he’s gone.