Byte The Bullet (Open)

Acrid chemical fumes settled like dusk over a tarmacked parking-lot stark with extraordinary devastation. An amalgam of twisted metal, rubble, and wild fires littered the blast-scarred concrete. Nearby, a power-line sat askew, its connections severed by shockwaves. What once passed for a lobby had been unrelentingly obliterated. Insect life, their survival inexplicable, began to filter across fresh crags and down vacant holes. Sirens were on the horizon. Their destination - Sidwell Cartographical Industries.

Deep within its interior, fire-bells rang with a deafening trill. Employees filed out the rear exit in a hurry, while armed personnel congregated in the opposite direction. They were employed to prevent industrial espionage, which spoke volumes about their preparedness for modern day terrorism. Explosions weren't uncommon in Jump City, just there was a shared ignorance of belief that they were events which happened to other people. Today Sidwell security were those other people. It was to their credit that they met said challenge forthwith.

A cursory sweep concluded zero casualties or fatalities. A blessing in itself. When they arrived, the fire department could clear the remaining area. They had the proper equipment after all. Yet as security made to withdraw, their situation became ever more precarious. Various individuals were bludgeoned by an array of improbable projectiles. Fortunately each unit possessed a degree of armour that protected them from these strikes. Though the assault was so sudden and simultaneous, that it produced a localised rout amongst the men.

None saw their enemy. Though they quickly concluded them to be the same terrorists that had initiated this travesty. It was a mercy that they had not chosen to strike with guns. The guards sought each other out for safety, so in no time at all the sum total were gathered together in a semi-circular formation, bristling with rifle scopes towards the perceived threat. One man remarked how peculiar these terrorists were to remain. The police, if not, various vigilantes would doubtless investigate. By prolonging their stay they risked capture and incrimination. Because one thing was certain - these terrorists would not get inside the facility. Sidwell's capital was in safe hands, they only hired the best of security personnel.

"That's them!"

From out the chemical smoke levitated various shapes composed entirely of metallic blocks. On command, a man fired. The cube shattered into its constituents before reforming. It was damned curious. The objects proved a nuisance when they began impacting against the defenders. But they were not, in a word, effective. Their velocity was comparatively slow and thus their damage shrugged off. Security instead continued to focus their aim on the thickset smog ahead, daring the intruders to reveal themselves. Meanwhile, one of the shapes deposited an object it had been carrying.

The commander was slow in realising its significance, "...GRENADE!" Too late came the cry. A flashbang detonated among the group, wiping out all resistance. Only then did a stranger emerge from his hiding spot. Smoke did not cause Pix any adverse effects. He regarded the imbeciles at his feet (o__o) and shook his head, "What use is overwhelming firepower when not dispersed?" More pixel constructs floated out of the smoke behind him, most likely containing other nasty surprises. Pix had been allocated some heavy munitions for this operation, "Had you not been herded, you might have suppressed me. Freaking idiots."

Without much further ado Pix stepped over the security detail and entered the inner sanctum of offices. It would appear this born tactician had sacrificed any semblance of his usual subtlety in favour of a more direct approach. That in itself should ring alarm bells for those who knew him best. Maybe a gear had finally come loose inside the mind of this highly-strung sprite? Only Pix knew for sure.

Single digit wind-speed ensured that the smoke signal Pix had been so generous to leave behind could be seen from halfway across the city. It might as well be one of those giant pin markers; seeing how the building was under a tack. Emergency services were already arriving on the scene. A crowd of employees were being escorted off the premises. Deep inside rang the tune of Yankie Doodle Dandie on a cellular phone, its operator unable to answer. The guard did not even stir.

"Someone left in a hurry." Pix mindfully flicked off a kettle as it came to a fierce boil. Wouldn't want to start a fire now. He marched purposefully between rooms, always flanked by a dozen box constructs levitating parallel to his progress without the scarcest thought.

It was a broad layout, but prior planning soon found Hugh where he wanted to be. Before him were a bunch of electronic equipment networked between a half-dozen computer terminals. Two larger screens plastered the room's far-end wall next to a white-board with scrawled mission directives for the day. The lights were off, leaving only the dancing displays of screen-savers active. An expansive window dominated some tiered platform from which Pix could spot his secondary objective. He was overlooking a massive communications dish, 45 metres in diameter. The kind that sent orders.

Sidwell Cartographical Industries was best known for their GIS software. They provided handy map-making tools and accurate geospatial data for businesses and Universities all over the globe. Their sole worth resided in those hunks of junk skirting the upper atmosphere. The word of the day was satellite.

Pix netted his fingers and attempted to crack them. Failing that, he pulled up a chair and sat at a workstation. The sprite inserted a pen drive and then tapped at the keyboard until prompted for a password. A list came out of his pocket denoting common passwords in order of regularity. He began to work his way down.

Password...
Denied

"I'd lose faith in humanity if this didn't at least take, oh, five minutes."

12345...
Denied

Without warning, a little girl would appear behind Pix's chair. She wore an oversized bath robe that mostly covered up her bare feet. Her yellow hair was neatly brushed, for once, and she was proud to display her recently brushed (and pearly white) teeth. In one hand, she held the ribbon to a red balloon. In the other, she held a chocolate ice cream cone.

Shivering Jemmy took another lick of her ice cream.

So, this guy was had some kind of technology powers? That was...cool. Jemmy didn't really know much about modern technology. Until recently, she hadn't known much about magic, either. Who needed to know things when you could force other people to know things for you?

"Whatcha doing?" Jemmy asked. The pillar of smoke had brought her here, and she was surprised to see that none of the heroes were here yet. Strange. They were usually so punctual. She pointed at the big dish. "And what is that thing?"

Jemmy was curious, but she had no reason to stop Pix. Not yet, anyway.

Qwerty...
Denied

abc1-

"Gah!" (o_O) At the abrupt end to his solitude, Hugh jumped high enough to clear his seat. Both hands went to grip the sides as he craned his neck round. It came to rest significantly lower down than originally feared. A darling little girl stood entirely out of place at his back, radiating unassuming innocence. This was clearly one of the few encounters Pix had not factored into his dealings today. A day-care at a ground-station.

"The frick you still doing in here?" Great, he'd caught Sidwell on a 'bring your child to work' day. The world's most irresponsible parents were employed as satellite technicians. And they didn't even have the decency to explain to their daughter what a communications dish was. The sprite relaxed again, peering over the rim of the chair at Jemmy (¬_¬) , "What's it look like. It's a satellite receiver. Tch." Dumb kid. Hugh never could stand them. The least parents could do was keep the dirty tykes out of other people's way.

Then again. Any legitimate reasons this kid might have had for being here were lost in the supposition that no one had answered that question for her before now. What's more, Sidwell Industries apparently had an ice cream dispenser within melting distance of the control room. The iced treat puzzled Pix, but it was only a trace of suspicion. He had too many grown-ups to anticipate today to explain this child's anomalous appearance as well.

"Beat it. I'm expecting law enforcement any moment. I don't want them to ignorantly add child endangerment onto a list of charges. There's no notoriety in that." The sprite returned to his typing, keeping one eye on the nuisance and hoping that she'd run off to play with something pointy instead. He refused to take responsibility for her presence here.

Hugh, as the strange man seemed to call himself in his own mind, treated Jemmy like a little kid. Jemmy didn't mind. That was the purpose of this form, after all. He told her to get out of the area, saying that the police would be here soon, and that he had no desire to lower his reputation by endangering a child.

Interesting. He didn't really care about her well-being for moral reasons. He simply didn't want to be viewed as 'petty' by the criminal community.

Jemmy sensed several police cars approaching the building. She grinned. "You know, I'm not sure why the police keep trying to deal with stuff like this. I mean, so many people have super powers that they just don't stand a chance. I don't suppose there would be any notoriety in beating them up, either, so I'll deal with them for you."

She was waiting for the Titans to show up so she could see a cool fight. The police would just end up getting in the way, and honestly she didn't want any of them to get hurt.

"Be back in a bit." Jemmy and her balloon disappeared from sight. She reappeared outside, in front of the police officers, who were already out of their cars and rushing towards the building. Her balloon's ribbon wrapped itself around her wrist, leaving her hand free. She held it up like a stop sign, and the police complied. Seeing a little girl appear out of nowhere was quite jarring. "I am Shivering Jemmy of the Shallow Brigade, a Lord of Chaos. I command you to stay out of this building."

One officer aimed his gun at her. He had heard rumors about a 'Lord of Chaos' causing mischief around the city lately. "Put your hands up. You're in a lot of trouble for what you've done here."

"I'm not the one who blew all the stuff up," Jemmy said, indignant. "The guy inside is too powerful for you to deal with. He's not as powerful as me, of course, but you guys would only get hurt. Wait for the Titans to show up. They can handle it."

The police officer stepped forward. "We can't just do nothing."

"Of course you can." Jemmy conjured a magical bow and arrow. The police officers panicked and started shooting her. The bullets passed right through Jemmy, but they didn't seem to hurt her or slow her down. Jemmy released a Cupid Arrow into the lead officer's chest. "Do nothing."

To the surprise of all the policemen, the captain wasn't dead. The arrow had disappeared into him, leaving no wound. He holstered his gun and ordered the rest of the officers to stand down. "We will do as you command, Mistress Jemmy."

Jemmy teleported back inside the building, next to Pix. All of her wounds from the bullets had already healed. "Done."

As Hugh continued to type he gave frequent regard to the presence of the pen drive, yet acted in no way that would seem to involve its inclusion. His method of password cracking was highly-optimistic, and outside a TV show, doomed to failure. While the HIVE operative would love to gain entry into a secure terminal by exploiting human stupidity, he felt people working primarily in IT were not as incompetent as the names that contributed to his list. Regardless, this data input was a good way to bide time without attracting undue suspicion from prying eyes.

What he didn't want was some little girl complicating carefully scripted matters. Her continued presence was regarded peevishly, but ultimately snubbed. Pix barely registered her words until a certain mature inflection caused him to think back on what she'd been babbling. She would... deal with the police? (0_0) Freaking adorable. The sprite glowered at her reflection in his monitor and bid her go already.

The child vanished.

Pix was out of his chair again. This time sprawled entirely on the floor. What the hell was she? A ghost? A moment of rationalisation caused him to correct his initial rash assumption. There were super-powers aplenty around Jump City. His own manifested even younger than this kid was now. Teleportation wasn't anything to be frightened of. It appeared his first guest had arrived. Not at all what was expected.

Their boss and benefactor TIBERIUS had information pertaining to many meta-humans in the city. It was just a matter of thinking back and matching speculation to reality. Yet before Hugh got very far, Jemmy was back. Standing now, the sprite observed her warily. (o,o) "Done? You... Stopped the authorities from entering?"

Two thoughts ran through Pix's mind. First was that he needed the police. But he couldn't be heard to say so. The police in this instance were safety. Without extra heads the hornets nest he was beating had the potential to break. Second was a recurrent word of particular personal concern.

Zydon.

ooc:/ Just an FYI for Diving Dart: { } indicates when Backlash is thinking or speaking in Polish. The main purpose of doing so, on my part, comes from mine and Dar's previous roleplay, where Kat discovered that Jemmy could read her mind. It's a defense mechanism, if anything. Also, my apologies to both of you for taking so long to reply.
bic:/


“Well, would you look at that? It’s sweetheart and Pixel Boy. Nice to see you again, Princess. Nice to meet you, Pixel Boy. I’ve read up on you.” The voice had come from nowhere, a static quality peppering the Polish accent of the girl who almost defeated the Lord of Chaos and developed a personal grudge solely because the you girl had called her ‘Kitty Kat.’ “You’ve earned your spot on S.T.A.R.’s database, Pix. It should be interesting to see what happens when an electromagnetic storm hits you.”


The call had already gone out for backup at Sidwell Cartographical Industries. Backlash had picked up the signal as she rode electrical outlets of S.T.A.R. And exited the main doorways. Reports of a young girl wearing a blue dress who had long blonde hair and brandished an uncanny red balloon and a particularly unique individual, the metahuman known as “Pix,” who could rearrange his entire body into particles, or more specifically, pixels. Katarzyna had to give it to the guy that it sounded like a pretty awesome power.

Chit chat aside, Backlash wasted no time in getting down to business. A flash of lightning, and the petite powerhouse with skin as black as the deepest voids of space and hair and eyes the colour of the brightest, blinding white possible had emerged from the computer that Pix had been attempting to hack. Deploying her lightning whips, she struck each piece of electronic equipment, leaving only the lights as a source of electricity. Then came the electrical storm. Katarzyna began to drain the remaining energy from the surrounding areas, including the rooms and hallways that stood adjacent to the rooms that she, Jemmy, and Pix occupied. A blast of static electricity permeated the air, creating a sound akin to a swarm of angry bees. Then came the magnetic manipulation, harnessed by Backlash’s prosthetic arm and gathered from not just the metal-based items in the vicinity, but rather, the actual fields that resisted her pull but eventually gave in. The combination produced an effect that felt as if gravity were being sucked inward, pulling on each individual and causing a dizzying feeling in the gut... Ideally, that is. As much as she’s like to think, Katarzyna still didn’t completely understand neither Jemmy nor Pix’s physical makeup. The effects of gravity and nausea could very well have no effect on the two. Worth a shot, though.

And not only had Kat come prepared for Pix, but Jemmy, too. The electrical cloud-of-sorts served not only as a deterrent for her new opponent, but hopefully, would have an effect on the Princess of Chaos’s red balloon, too. Even the extensive databases in S.T.A.R. Labs had no information on her balloon, but Backlash had a feeling that it wasn’t just a nostalgic toy or something to entertain her. This kid seemed to play by the idea that everything she did must have a purpose, otherwise it wasn’t worth doing. Katarzyna had also taken into account the girl’s body and mind-controlling arrows. Where they manifested from, she did not know. Their exact nature, she didn’t know, either. But even though Backlash and Shivering Jemmy’s battle turned out to be less-than-satisfactory, her hypothesis that staying close appeared to render the use of those arrows as obsolete. But handcuffing themselves would prove to be more of a hassle than an advantage, for the tactic had the opportunity cost of inhibiting Kat’s manoeuvrability to fight Pix. Still, the rather small-ish room provided an ideal space to keep close without being directly tied to the girl.

{”Let’s hope I do better this time...”} Backlash pondered as she casually continued her onslaught of electromagnetic attacks, {Let’s hope I don’t kill anyone, either."}

Pix seemed quite surprised, and he asked if Jemmy had really stopped the police.

Jemmy took another lick of her ice cream cone. "Yep." She didn't know why he was so surprised. Oh that's right, she hadn't introduced herself to him yet. She had already introduced herself formally to the police though. It would be repetitive to give the same little speech. She decided to go with something more informal. "I'm Shivering Jemmy. I can do whatever I want." Come to think of it, now the police knew exactly who she was. Information on Lords of Chaos was limited, but Jemmy realized she may have to answer a few questions before the police left her alone. That was a thought for another time, though.

A voice boomed from all around them. Jemmy blinked and looked around the room, searching for the source of the voice. Nice to see her again? Who was this person? She seemed to know Jemmy personally, and have at least some information on Pix.

Backlash appeared with an impressive show of electric power. Without a preamble, the teen girl destroyed the surrounding computers outright, cutting through them with electric, razor sharp whips. But even that wasn't enough. Backlash started doing...something. Jemmy wasn't really quite sure what was going on, and she didn't care. The little Kitty Kat was just showing off at this point, obviously trying to impress Jemmy.

"Well, we didn't get a hero, but I guess she will do. It's actually kinda...whoa!" Jemmy was cut off suddenly as she felt some strange force pulling her forward, towards Backlash. What was going on? She held on tight to her balloon's ribbon, and the familiar tried flying against the pull. It was partially successful, but it was straining the poor familiar.

Jemmy looked up at the red balloon. "What do you mean you're sick? Do you even have..." The balloon transformed, growing to triple it's original size and gaining both black eyes and a gaping, sharp-toothed mouth. It vomited a thick black liquid out of its maw, and some of it ended up hitting Jemmy in the face. She wiped the black goo off before finishing her question that had already been answered. "A stomach?"

The strange pull was drawing them closer, so Jemmy and her demonic balloon teleported across the room. The balloon wrapped its ribbon around both her and a heavy metal bar stuck in the wall. Jemmy was now firmly anchored in place. Her body was very light weight, so things like gravity attacks were especially tough for her to deal with. Strange, she didn't think that Backlash could manipulate gravity. There was a really complicated explanation in Kitty Kat's mind, but Jemmy just decided that the teen girl had cheated.

"Cool it with the AOE, Kitten. That means Area of Effect, in case you didn't know. I'm not here to steal anything this time. I'm just here to watch, so leave me and my balloon out of it." Jemmy licked a little of the remaining black vomited goo off of her face. It actually wasn't that bad. It still had a hint of magic on it, and Jemmy liked the taste of magic. She looked at her demonic balloon, which was keeping a watchful eye on Backlash. "Mmm, that's actually kinda good. Don't worry, I'm not going to eat you, even if your guts taste good."

There was a moment, a brief one to be certain, this infinitesimally insignificantly.....microscopic moment of quiet that gave way to screeching metal and crackling energy as a pipe flew through the air like a spear, arched up high and came crashing down towards Backlash before slamming into the ground a few inches in front of her as a very familiar voice echoed on round the room. "Pix, The big bad bug sent me as back up and....damn when he's right about trouble, he's...really right." An otherwise unimpressed face pulled itself from the shadows, eyes hidden by orange tinted goggles and a cigarette, clamped firmly between pursed lips. It was of course hive's very own electromancer; the ever sordid, ever listless, Livewire. Fingers crackling and humming with sheer incandescence, he looked at Backlash and grunted. "And you brought me a friend to play with too, how thoughtful my pixelated pal of putrescent pomposity."

The electromagnetic barrage was put to a quick summary stop, deflected up, up and away, with a simple swish of the half-hunched man's gloved fingers. Again he didn't look very impressed, rather bored even. But a job was a job, and Tib had asked him to back up the pile of pixels, even if he didn't like the smarmy little bundle of arrogance at all. Livewire's reaction was pretty damn straightforward, as he wandered on towards Backlash with a stiff stride and a crack of his neck. Maybe, just maybe, taking a few licks wouldn't hurt today. He was feeling a bit drained and he was being called in on such short notice as well. He just needed to get near her and get those hands wrapped around any part of her body...or even those whips. Just needed to make a connection, and he'd be digging into that high voltage buffet like it was going out of style.

Name dropping was a more personal affair for some people. That Jemmy could leave her credentials at that was testament to her legacy. Hugh bit his tongue in order to forestall any further attempt to chide. She could meddle where she please. Few players in Jump City were ignorant to the presence of this malevolent Chaos Lord; least of all HIVE, who boasted the largest media resources in State. Earning her ire could mean generations of chaotic upheaval. Hugh's ancestors would find it hard to forgive an inelegant word. But she had messed with the plan...

The police were a precaution, Hugh tried to tell himself, not a necessity. A little leeway could be found for this puerile cosmic entity. Especially given that her actions were done in an effort to be helpful. “Noted. Guess you don't want to stop me then. I can get behind that.” He wasn't under attack, the usually argumentative Pix found this situation very satisfactory. It meant he could concentrate on holding off whoever next showed.

Cue the disembodied do-gooder. Dramatic flare mingled with enigmatic night stalking. Although they evaded identification, a connection of importance was strongly hinted at. Unless Pix was very much mistaken, that was S.T.A.R. labs they were referring to. His chest swelled at his personal acknowledgements, “Flattered. I suppose.” (^_^) Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. He was on a database! Some (doubtless) high-level data entry personnel had spent their precious time typing up the wonders of Pix. Maybe he was even classified. Top secret, restricted access, for privileged eyes only, the works.

What happened next was very much counter-productive. The new arrival exploded out of the computer monitor. A very vital piece of technology. She was blasting electrical energy into expensive equipment. Didn't folk respect property any more? Hugh's heart sank as he realised he'd been cut off from his objective. And it almost stopped cold from fright once the electromagnetism began. (o_O)

Electric. It had to be electric. One stray bolt could finish him. As the gravitational anomaly commenced Pix was already clinging desperately to a concrete pillar. Entry into that electromagnetic storm would render his metahuman form useless. But hey, it would satisfy this stranger's curiosity. “Can we talk about this?!” A desperate decision was being considered, stalling briefly to ogle the bizarre sight of Jemmy's balloon, when suddenly the pull stopped altogether. Hugh found his feet again ready to greet his saviour.

"Livewire!" (¬.¬) Pix had never requested Ethan be present at this particular junction. In fact, his entry now served to jeopardise the ongoing operation. So despite his save, the electrokinetic received only tetchy ingratitude, "No! I don't need your help ya lug. Why did he send you? You're going to ruin every-" A sudden beeping indicated a message alert upon Pix's communicator. Ethan's nullifying of the electromagnetic interference had prevented the signal from being any further delayed. Automatically, Hugh skimmed its contents. The sprite took a moment to digest the significance of this reported development. His attitude reversed, "...Livewire!" (=D) Just the guy he needed, "Took you long enough to get here..."

Summoning his pixel containers from their lodgements, Pix began to retreat in direction of the fire exit, "She's all yours. Buy me some time. Only one thing. It's very important you don't... win yet. But you know how to take it easy. Right?" (^_^; ) Sending in a second HIVE operative hadn't been discussed, but it was necessary. There was a reason Jump City's heroes were overlooking this smoking crater at Sidwell. Someone had given them a far bigger concern.

Unless developments in the outside world escaped anyone else's notice, Pix would have to make do with the folk already assembled. On his way out he pointed at Jemmy, “This is private. Don't follow me.” As if someone of a child's sensibilities would obey that command.

A newcomer appeared, an electromancer named Livewire, apparently. With his powers, Livewire was able to negate Backlash's field of doom. Thank goodness. Jemmy relaxed, and her balloon lowered her to the ground before retaking its place at her side.

It seemed that Livewire was from the same organization as Pix. "HIVE" was the name that Jemmy was reading from their minds. It sounded faintly familiar, but Jemmy wasn't quite sure where she had heard it before. Oh yeah, the HIVE had been the rivals of the original Teen Titans. So, not only had people moved into Titans Tower to pretend to be heroes, but now a new HIVE had formed as well. Interesting. Perhaps there would be some sort of turf war after the Zydon were dealt with.

Pix looked at some device in his hand, and his attitude suddenly changed. He fled the room, telling Livewire to fight Backlash but not defeat her. Something strange was going on. She tried to read Pix's mind, but he had too many thoughts running across his mind. He even pointed right at her and ordered her not to follow, saying that he had something 'private' to attend to.

Before she could chase after Pix, Backlash proposed a deal with Jemmy. Backlash claimed to have access to the device Jemmy had been trying to steal back at STAR Labs. For Jemmy's help in this fight, Backlash offered to give it to her.

But Jemmy had already failed in her mission. Her 'contractor' didn't want the MX13 anymore, and Jemmy herself had no use for it. Kitty Kat had cost Jemmy something of real value, a favor from someone strong. She had also made Jemmy look weak, and that wasn't something that would be quickly forgiven.

"There's just one problem with that deal, Kitty Kat," Jemmy said, walking towards the door Pix was escaping through. "I hate you." It was true, at least right now it was. She was quite willing to leave Backlash to die at Livewire's hand. Of course, she had no idea which of the electromancers was actually more powerful, but she didn't care. She was too curious about Pix.

Jemmy teleported, appearing right beside Pix. "Hey, what's going on?" She would keep teleporting to his side, trying to read the thoughts on the surface of his mind at the same time. Pix didn't need to actually answer. A thought about what had changed his mood so much would be all she needed. Just to make sure she got the full story, she would keep asking questions. "What are you thinking about?" Teleport. "Did you get a text message?"

"So you want me to fight her? But not beat her? Riiiiiight.I'll try not to kill her then." Ethan was quick to yank down a length of metal from above, a small metal pipe and along with it, wiring that sparked and jolted with electricity. The young man was, well, he wasn't fond of fighting often especially if he could help it. But he was on the job and well, you couldn't help but fight, when the bug man put you to work. Ethan was paying attention to Jemmy more than Backlash for the most part, as unknown third parties were always trouble, more trouble than Ethan really cared for to be precise as he split the pipe in twain with a slip of his finger, as sparks and a bright flash of light proceeded the action of slicing the length of steel in half with a small stream of ionized plasma. "Seriously, we gotta stop running into each other like this. But at least I'm on the job now which means, I have to have some semblance of control and focus now. And it looks like you're little attempt at negotiations failed with the girl and her....barfing balloon."

Ethan's motions were quick and deft as he twisted the metal to and fro, tore it apart then flattened it all down around his fists with those powers of his as he affixed to his hands, a set of steel bands and plates that could come off, just as easily as he had twisted them on and he used them surprisingly.....well, as his fists came out fast and hard, batting and parrying the whips with lightning fast clarity and accuracy. It was coming down to a melee battle and while he wasn't....a master, he was more than sufficient with his boxing and kickboxing techniques, to prove a pain in the ass for Backlash as he dashed in with his arms raised and guarded, before throwing a straight right, that would do the Mozart of punching proud, right for her Sternum. Ethan was focused more on doing what Pix said, buying time and well, maybe hobbling her ability to chase after him if that failed, as his next strike that followed was a left footed round house aimed for Backlashes ribs with enough force to fracture them, if not outright splinter several of them with the momentum and strength behind the snap of his kick as it reached out to give her one of his quite insofar, infamous love taps.

A thought struck Hugh as he barged his way through a set of double-doors. He alone in HIVE had opposed Ethan's candidacy. It requires a level of humility to take relief from hindsight. Pix himself was only able to live with the reality by choosing to remember accounts differently to how they actually happened. Said it. I told them Livewire was the most powerful electrokinetic stateside. Perfect for counteracting my weakness. The guy's main problem was motivation. By Hugh's limited insight, Ethan's lassitude was the bane which prevented this trump card from getting out more often.

Pix emerged onto a concrete veranda the same moment Jemmy made a reappearance, "What's going on is S.T.A.R. labs back there trashed my network access." Her juvenile appearance made it difficult for Hugh to take Jemmy seriously. A measure of respect found way into his tone only by conscious effort, "I might have gotten a text. Follow, don't follow. It's your dimension." He hoped she'd follow. Descending steps, the HIVE agent made his way across a lawn.

Sidwell's giant communications dish lay a hundred yards ahead. Its compound was shielded from the outside world of coppers and media by eight-foot high walls spanning the perimeter. You could not tell by looking at it, but Pix knew for a fact that the dish was mobile, performing the miniscule movements involved in tracking satellites. Nothing unusual there. Except Sidwell's control consoles had very recently been lightning whipped. So from where were its commands originating?

We'll know very soon. Tracking them tracking me on the computer was child's play. Tracking them through remote signal is pushing my expertise.

A swift kick at the base of the dish resulted in frustration. The equipment's manual control panel remained secure, padlocked against vandals such as Pix. Instead the sprite slipped a dozen tiny pixels into the lock and fiddled around with the mechanism until it opened. A metal panel fell down, revealing its perplexing contents. Oh yeah. Spitting image of the blueprints... After some deliberation, Pix managed to plug his HIVE communicator into the system. It was up to someone back at base now. They might actually finish their triangulation this time.

If Jemmy had kept with Hugh, he would now raise an inquiry, "Who was the chick with the accent? If you don't mind me asking." It would help to know what there was to work with. Especially since a freak Zydon bombing raid downtown had deprived them of Jump City's finest heroes. This satellite emitter was being put to good use. Because the local government had no idea that a strike force had even touched down on Earth.

ooc: Glenn, if I misinterpreted Ethan’s initial attack, please let me know and I’ll change my reply accordingly.

Backlash, being sorely disappointed yet not too surprised at Jemmy’s declination of her offer, regretted building a brand spankin’-new MX13 just for this purpose: for bribing the girl if need be. It had taken her a long time and a lot of light tiptoeing around S.T.A.R. to figure out just what the device did and how it had been built. Sure, she had added a few new features such as a state-of-the-art tracking advice that had a signal that grew in strength each time it teleported, but still; it truly was a perfect and functioning replica. {‘I guess I’ll just have to wait and see if I ever meet Jemmy’s contractor. Maybe then I could put it to use. Or I could just sell it to S.T.A.R....’}

Under ideal circumstances, Katarzyna would have followed Jemmy and proceeded to kick her butt––or at least try to. But alas, there were more pressing matters at hand. Cigar Dude, specifically. Even more specifically, his impressive use of magnesis to fashion his own rudimentary but efficient pair of metal whips that deflected Backlash’s weapons. The obsidian blades backfired as they countered the new threat, forced backward and toward their owner. And although it might have gone unnoticed to most, Katarzyna picked up quickly and with dread a few cracking sounds that indicated ruptures of the incredibly strong mineral. ‘Did he just––’ Backlash began, disbelief causing her to drop the self-employed defensive measure of thinking in Polish rather than English, although it most likely wouldn’t be problematic with Jemmy gone... for now. Ego obstructed the teenager from fessing up to the fact that Cigar Dude had just cracked her blades, but as was so, so common––annoyingly, repetitively, frustratingly––she had no time to be truly pissed off; most likely realising that her whips wouldn’t be a problem for the time being, he had dropped that tactic and moved for something quick and dirty: hand-to-hand combat.

Backlash could not have been more thrilled about that.

She rarely got the opportunity to fight fist-to-fist, hand-to-hand as she did so well and so effectively back in Poland, where she beat out the girls’ division of country-wide junior kickboxing tournaments before taking first place in the boys’ division of the country-wide junior kickboxing tournaments. Katarzyna identified Cigar Dude’s own skill level as highly proficient and genuinely threatening, something that pumped adrenaline through her veins and made her even more determined to literal kick the punk’s butt.

He had thrown a straight right aimed for her sternum, a move that she would have been able to parry easily be obstructing his hit with her metal arm if it hadn’t already been pre-occupied with taking the brunt of the damage from her obsidian blades. Should he land this, she could end up with serious injury. Then came the roundhouse kick, left-footed. The opposite directions were ideal in trapping one’s opponent and providing a world of overall pain and anger and defeat, especially when accounting for the two electros’ vast difference in size and weight; Cigar Dude, Backlash estimated, stood almost a foot taller than her and topped her light weight of barely-above one-hundred pounds by leagues. She was petite and he certainly was not, but that could be used to her advantage if she played her cards right and didn’t get completely knocked out of the battle.

The first hit almost reached its mark, but came down upon a much more vital part of Katarzyna Dolinski than her sternum, than her bones: her compact energy generator. Punching such a strong, dense piece of hardware should have hurt the attacked more than the attacked––for it had been built with such attacks in mind––but this time, it had already been busted up a bit from overuse and age. This new cracking sound meant only one thing: Backlash no longer had the luxury of electrokinesis to her name, not for now, not when the source of all its power had been compromised. A hit to the sternum would have been like a slap on the knee compared to the damage dealt, whether Cigar Dude knew it or not. Kat was in serious danger now, and if another hit like that managed to land again, she could very well be out for the count.

That’s when Backlash began to panic, although in the slightest and undetectable way. Sure, Cigar Dude might not even realise that he had rendered one of two of the best chances for her personal victory, but if he did...

The second blow landed perfectly.

Pain exploded through the right side of Katarzna’s ribs as the kick collided with the upper half of the right side of her body, forcing tears from her eyes and the air from her lungs as she howled in agony and crumpled to the floor like a bail of broken sticks. Now this cracking sound––of all three types she had heard thus far––proved to be the most miserable and grotesque and damning of all. One, two, at least three ribs had been broken upon impact. More had been unmistakably bruised and battered. With nothing short of a miracle––if anything were to be spared by this massive injury––she felt no rush of hot liquid from not the inside nor outside of her body. So, no blood. Not yet, at least. But she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t stand, let alone move at all without sending torrents of extreme pain through her body. But despite of all this––despite the obviousness of her defeat and the broken bones that inhabited her petite form, despite the reality and gravity and severity of the situation––denial still reigned supreme in Backlash’s brain as it underwent a barrage of signals that threatened to cause the teen to pass out solely for the amount of pain she was going through.

’No, no, no, no, no!’ her mind screamed, 'This can’t be happening! You’re the better fighter! You’re the better electro! You’re the only chance that this godforsaken facility has while all the real superheroes are off fighting god-knows-what!’

Not since she had accidentally killed her own mother had Backlash felt this vulnerable, defeated, and consumed by despair. Vision swallowed by terrifying darkness and senses dulled to a point of paralysis, and spirit as broken as her ribs, Katarzyna Dolinski gave in to the blackness and fell unconscious.