2014.03.25 - It takes two

It's late afternoon and the sun casts long, golden rays through the trees which just start to bear their first leafs. The sound of a few robin redbreasts can be heard through the woods of the Manchester Preserve, and overall it promises to become a lush evening...

Until the sound of people running disturbs the peace. It's a black pair that dashes down a path, on the arms of the woman a child, the head of it looking like a squid. A cracking sound can be heard behind them, resonating in the ears like only one sound can - the cocking of a pump action mossberg. For a moment the man turns around to lift the arms, a shimmering blue bubble surrounding him for a few moments, then the shot falls and the sphere shatters under the multiple hits by the buckshot. Once again the man turns to follow his wife, the hunters on their heels.

The hunting gang outguns the two by far. 10 white men in jeans and sneakers follow them, their bare chests and upper arms covered in tattoos featuring double S runes, German eagles, skulls and swastikas en masse, speaking about their memberships and each of them carries a M4, hunting rifle or a shotgun and one or more pistols in their waistbands.

This is usually something that Captain America wouldn't already be on the scene for, but he's been tracking this particular group for a few days. He runs through the rays cast through the tree by the afternoon sun at a brisk pace, keeping up with the group of neonazis as easily if they were standing still. Out near the road, an armed group of Police Officers who are working in a joint taskforce with the Captain wait, while the hero takes the direct route of intervention on behalf of the unfortunate family being chased through the woods.

He's red white and blue armor is dulled in color so as not to attract the attention of his prey and a pistol hangs on a shoulder harness beneath his left arm. On his right forearm, his shield pumps with each swing, each olympic like flip over a downed log. Picking up the pace when he hears the unmistakable clicking of a pump action shotgun and report of its fire.

Within sight of the group, the Captain rolls to his feet and hurls his shield through the gap between two trees, never stopping in his run despite the shift in momentum out of the tumble and throw.

It bounces through the foliage, whistling as it flies, and hits the trunk of an oak near the group. The collision causes it to whirl out wide arc and slam into the wrist of one neo nazi then into the right flank of the man beside him. It passes by a third, hits another tree and whistles back around in the First Avenger’s direction.

His back presses against the trunk another tree to provide cover, "The game is up. Put down your weapons while there's still a chance to handle this without violence."

The first hit lets loose of his M4, the weapon falling to the ground while he uses his left to pull his sidearm and empty a pair of shots towards the direction he saw the shield bounce off into, blasting big chunks out of the tree where the .50 AE bullets from the Desert Eagle struck. His buddy, who got hit in the side is not so lucky, collapsing to the ground with his gun still in hand, releasing a shot into nowhere, the bullet whistling through the wood aimlessly. The rest of the gang is quick to duck, spreading out after a few yelled words, trying to surround both their prey and the damned captain with their move.

The family on the other hand runs like the devil is behind them, trying their best to get away...

...passing right under the tree a green clad woman had been sitting in. Robyn had heard the shots, heard the yells and recognized them as what they were - the actions of the lowest scum humanity had brought up ever. Haters. It only took her a few seconds to place an arrow on her bowstring and lift it, searching the gaps of the trees for the signs of the skinheads. The white skin of one of them bears a black swastika, surrounded by red skulls, and the aim narrows in on it, before she releases it. The shaft bends sideways as it accelerates, then to the other side as it passed the bow, going onto a travel in a flat curve downward...

Half a second later the broadhead tip digs into the flesh, right in the center of the symbol of hate, the 4 sharp edges of the hunting tip slicing the skin open in a cross that separates the tattoo as it digs deeper, cutting muscles.

A second arrow follows the first on another path, aimed for the hand of one of them, the bodkin tip of this arrow nailing the fingers to the shaft of a Mossberg, misleading the aim of the Aryan Pride member to one of his buddies, just as he pulls the trigger. A pack of eight Steel balls releases from the cartridge, whistling towards the man's hip. Three miss the leg entirely, blasting up dirt and moss, while the other five hit, ripping deep wounds. One of them even hits the femur, shattering it as the man falls to the ground screaming.

The Captain grabs his shield out of the air when it whistles past his tree and slides it back on his right arm in preperation to be thrown once more. "Sgt Aberman. There are three individuals of African American descent running towards your position." Said into the comm unit worn beneath his helmet. The blast of the .50 hitting the tree he's using for cover barely even phases him, though he does glance at the chunks of wood that shower around him like so much confetti. "Bring your men forward towards my location." Instructions, reflective side of his shield held up to get a better indication of what's going on when the shots are fired and men being screaming.

"Four to wide flank and another three to center." The officers offer their affirmative and Cap brings his weapon up and spins around the side of the tree with his arm swinging out wide in a long arc that sends the shield hurtling towards one of the cover positions he saw a skin head drop behind. The man, now trying to find the other shooter, lifts a little too high and catches the shield across the back of his skull with enough force to throw him forward a solid six feet. The weapon he was carrying clatters away from him and Steve grabs the pistol from beneath his arm and fires shots at the remaining skinheads. None of them meant to hit, but only to suppress them long enough for him to run to new cover a bit closer.

Once he's behind another thick tree, the clip is removed from his pistol, a new one slid into place, and the weapon reholstered. "You are surrounded and out numbered." He shouts, "Lay down your weapons and come out with your hands held high. This is your last chance to surrender peacefully."

The skins don't do so, instead, they change their plans. One of them jumps up, yelling a German insult. "Schießt auf den scheiß Kapitän!" The others follow his example and try to blast the hell out of him and the tree he covers behind. Bullets from 3 M4, a Mossberg and a Remington 700 do their best to turn the tree to sawdust... The unlucky fella, who had his hand pinned to his Mossberg's fore shaft screams up as he recocks the gun for another shot and resorts to ripping the arrow out of his wound to join the shootout, just much slower than his buddies.

Eventually even then their leader starts to use his own weapon for the first time: an Auto Assault 12 with the 20 rounds drum magazine. Slugs hammer not only into, but also through the tree in rapid follow-up, and the war cries of the neonazies fill the air, fueled by the lust for Supersoldier blood.

Meanwhile the Family reaches the police line at the side of the park, getting to safety.

For Robyn the jumping up people provide perfect targets, and the next arrow goes on its curved way, whistling like a teakettle as it passes one of the shooters shoulders and buries the tip into the upper arm of the one some yards down the road, sending his aim off far as he empties the magazine into nowhere. The next move of the wanted archer was to abandon the tree she had stood on till now, dashing through the underwood to a better position.

The Captain's cover is quickly becoming mulch, but at least he's provided the family with a distraction to get to safety as evidenced when the Police Sgt radios him to tell him they have the trio in tow. "Good, there's still at least five shooters." Calm under fire, even as he's having to duck down when the weapons blast not just into but THROUGH the tree. "Double three of your men wide to the east and set up a firing position."

But these aren't soldiers, these are police officers. Armed and armored as they may be, he doesn't want to put them in any more harm than he absolutely needs to, to provide him a little rest from the constant barrage of bullets.

His shield hits the ground a few feet to his left, out in the open where any sane man would forgo retrieving it for fear of being riddled with bullets. A sane man wouldn't have been in the positions Captain America had, however. And he's always come out the other side to be modest about it later.

When half the firing line is reloading and another is taken down by his unknown comrade, Steve dives out of cover into an arcing side roll over the top of his shield and comes up on one knee. The shield is up and out infront of him like a barrier, his whole body bent impossibly to provide the least amount of visible target as possible. Bullets hit the shield and bounce off harmlessly, counting on their attacks and threats being bravado and their aim faultering a bit when he braves coming out of cover instead of cowering.

When another gun runs dry he swings the shield out of his way and fires three quick shots from his own pistol, two hit the neonazi's cover, the third hits one of the men in the shoulder and spins him wide.

Cap doesn't wait to see the reaction, favoring a dive behind cover further to his left and coming up with his pistol sliding back into its holster under his arm. "You knuckleheads really need a better role model. I fed Hitler a knuckle sandwich, he wasn't a very great man, at all..."

The line of the Nazis is dwindling fast - of the originally 10, one fell through friendly fire, one has a wound on the hand and shoots slowly, 5 are flat out of the game, hurt and bleeding but not yet dead. The leader drops the drum magazine of his gun as he had emptied it, throwing a fist to the air before he rams the next one into it. "Tötet den Antideutschen," he screams to his still standing followers. "Oder sterbt wie der Versager Kurt!" With the later sentence, he blasts the first slug of his magazine into the head of the first one who had dropped his gun, creating an even bigger mess of the situation before he continues to shoot at the Captain, his comrades inspired by fear for their leader even more than the bloodlust.

Robyn sighs as she searches for one of the targets, placing a fresh arrow on the string. It took her seconds, then she found not one, but two of them shoulder to shoulder, each of them carrying a M4. She takes very careful aim, the single arrow moving up and down with the breath for moments, then stopping any movement as she held the breath.

A light thuck, a slight hissing sound as the air passed the feathers and the arrow was on its way, passing through the upper arm muscles of not one, but both of them, tying them together in one of the most painful ways, forcing them both to drop their guns.

The numbers have certainly dwendled under the combined force of Captain and Robyn, though he has yet to catch sight of the owner of the arrows that have taken down quite a few of the would be nazis. His periodic glances out of cover have given him a good view of exactly what weaponry that sole remaining hatemonger is carrying. 'Twenty rounds', he says to himself. Mentally counting the ammunition in hopes that the German spouting terrorist isn't that disciplined himself.

As most of his men have fallen, one by his own gun, it is clear that the pressure is starting to get to him. That the weight of his situation is already making him think and make poor decisions, so Captain presses it. His shield comes up, flips over his wrist and settles into the palm of his right hand. With a twist he hurls it off to his left, knowing the man will track it as it whistles around like a metal frisby on a arc back in his direction.

But that's the distraction.

Captain America comes around the left side at a dead run. Those seconds, precious few, are all he needs to close the rest of the distance. He is not the flash, he doesn't blur in motion as he runs, but he is exceptionally fast. Faster than any man has any right to. He jumps over a fallen tree and plants his foot into a forward flip that lands him beside the Nazi with his red gloved hand coming down into the barrel of the shotgun, lowering it harmlessly to the ground. The other hand drops down to smack the stock of the weapon, which pivots under his strength and the press of his hand on the barrel, rolls over his wrists and comes up into his own hand with the barrel pointed right into the man's face.

If that's not frightening enough, he pulls the cocking mechanism inches from his nose and stares down the barrel with a cold blue intensity. "Kapitulation jetzt." Growled in fluent German.

"Niemals Aufgeben!" screams the leader back, but the wounded with the Mossberg is worn out, tossing his arm away and himself to the dirt, leaving only the hunter with him. At least until the leader follows the shield with the shots that come almost without interrupt, and draws over the body of him in that movement. A slug shatters the left arm under the rifle, spinning him around, the second one blasting right through the shoulder of the same arm. Now, he was the last man standing, the gun clicking as the gun was emptied.

And that moment the CA appears in front of him, the gun pointing into the face of him. But he just smirks as he lifts the hands slowly, before he answers. "Kapitulieren? Gib lieber auf." Despite the barrel he smacks down the hands to the shoulders of him, the hands trying to squeeze the Supersoldier's shoulders with inhuman strength while turning the head far enough to avoid getting shot into the forehead. Not super strength, but a strength derived from bionics, the fake flesh over the micro machines ripping open as he presses.

Robyn meanwhile pushes the bow over the quiver in the run, kicking up the downed shield with a step on its rim to pick it at the same in a run by, somewhat surprised by its low weight. The distance to the fighting pair of barely human reduces with the steps, and at that moment the muscles rip open she is just behind the Ubernazi, holding the shield by the left and right rim. "I think he said SHUT UP!" she screams, ramming it down on the neck of him.

This is one of those classical struggles of strength that made Wrestling so popular in the sixties. The pair of men, both given enhanced strength struggle against one another. The shotgun is tossed away, Cap had no real intention of shooting him anyways, in favor of slamming his hands down on the man's elbows with enough force to splinter a 2x4 into wood splinters. It might not snap the UberNazi's arms, but it certainly bends them and relieves some of the pressure.

Steve grimaces under the strength, but he's fought strong men before, so the surprise of it alone would have to be enough to cripple him... and it doesn't.

Especially not when Robyn wielding his shield slams the weapon down on the back of the bionically enhanced soldier's neck. Not with the kind of force that would kill him, but it does bring him down onto his knees. Captain turns with his waist and drops his gloved fist into a downward thrusting punch that would shatter a normal mans jaw, following the momentum onto his own knee and coming right back up with an uppercut with his left hand. The Ubernazi is lifted from his kneeling position into a backward flip that leaves him crashing onto his back in a cybernetic heap on the grass.

Just as the police line closes in around them with their own weapons at the ready.

Steve stares down at the man, then turns to regard Robyn... "Thank you." His hand held out, palm open, for his shield.

Robyn eyes the shield once more and then gives it a spin towards Cap, allowing him to catch it as easy as it is to catch, a smirk on the face with its marked eye. Glancing at the downed, bleeding and the two dead haters, she narrowed her working eye, answering to the thanks a bit belatedly. "None needed. If you want to do something really worth a thanks, bunk them for good." Spitting on the face of the groaning leader, she turned around slowly pulling the hood back over her red tinted hair, only the destroyed eye looking back. Even if she didn't see a thing through it, the eerie glow of it might place some emphasis on her farewell. "This time one hand washes another, 'kay Captain?"

The shield is easily caught, snatched out of the air and slid onto his back in much the same way someone would wear a pack across the shoulders. The pistol under his arm is locked into place by the leather strap behind the hammer and he watches the woman as she begins to depart from the scene, "These men will be dealt with rather harshly, of that you have my assurance." He tells her with a nod, already two of the officers are putting those who are still alive in cuffs. Under the circumstances he doesn't move to stop her retreat, though he most likely wouldn't have used lethal force himself... He doesn't turn away as she moves easily away through the trees, not until she's out of sight. Then he turns to the officers and organizes them getting the bodies moved, the family to safety, and the arrested to the proper authorities where they will certainly be charged with quite a number of felonies.