Motel Inferno

Players

Pietro

Rogue

Emma

Marrow

Attrition

It's getting dark. The twilight settles over the deserted motel and there's not so much as a car nearby or driving on the road some three quarters of a block away. It's quiet with few neighbors. Rumor suggests that mob violence was conducted in the rooms of this single story fifteen unit dump. The look from the outside suggests it's been standing since the 40s but it's not likely to stick around for another 70 years, that's for sure.

A non-descript Brotherhood-issue driver and car drop the group off at the suggested motel. Stepping from the car, Rogue pauses to take a look around at the derelict surroundings. "Well, they got the 'remote' part right, Ah'll give 'em that," she murmurs as she moves aside to give the others room to pile out, drawing her billowy coat a little tighter around herself. Still keeping her voice down for now, she turns back towards the car and her teammates. "They know more 'bout us than we do about them. Tonight's about levellin' that playin' field. So keep the crazy to a minimum, but, y'know, be ready for everything. We know these fools ain't afraid of usin' guns and bombs, so keep your guards up."

It's a little chilly for the thin fabric which fits Marrow like a glove, but she doesn't seem to be complaining too much about it. Due to the bone spikes, she had to take up one of the rows of seats sitting sideways, occupying most of the space. She climbs out of the vehicle as soon as she has enough clearance. Once out, she straightens to her full height and stretches briefly, cracking her neck in the process with a twitch of her head to one side. "Fuckin' vehicles..." Obviously it's not her favourite method of travel. But enough of the complaining, she's already moving toward Rogue's side and behind a little, almost in a protective formation. With a grunt, she rumbles, "Got it. Keep alive, people."

Pietro adjusts his fingerless gloves in a fidgety motion that suggests he might not even realize that he's doing it. No, his attention is on their surroundings as he unfolds himself from the back seat of the car. "Yeah, I'm not plannin' on lettin' any of these assholes get the jump on me. But sure: tone down the crazy, got it," he confirms with a terse, 'business nod' as he joins his teammates. He finally gives the gloves a rest and drops his hands to his side; one of them brushes a black belt at his waist and, more notably, the black handle of a knife that's sheathed there.

Attrition steps out of his car with a grunt. His consume is simple at the moment. There is a black button down shirt with a small badge over the breast with what some might recognize as a Fabian crest done over a soviet sickle and hammer and genome symbol. The material of the shirt is thick, likely some sort of denim sewn to cover as much as possible. The pants are thick black denim as well and end in heavy black boots on the end. He has a belt with a holster which looks like it could fit most small weapons, a pistol, tazer or even knife. Over it all he wears a thick and heavy soviet style leather jacket which hangs down to his knees and is a bit rougher in material composition. On his hand are black leather gloves which have also been made to be rougher then the material usually is and he has a Lenin like cap on his head pulled down to cover his eyes with the same modified Fabian crest on it.

Hugo puts on his sunglasses and checks the rusty pipe he has in his pocket and looks to the others with interest. "Hmm.." he grunts before he gets into formation. "Ready as well" he says in a ...well bad fake Russian accent.

The deathly silence is broken by a dog barking several blocks away. Something flies overhead; bats perhaps. The moon's been up for a while, full and bright as it takes over for the sun in casting rays upon the world. Foot steps can be heard from around the building, someone shuffling their way around though it'll be sometime before they make it if the sound is anything to go by. Still no cars in the area.

Rogue gives a brusque nod as everyone confirms their readiness. "Then let's do this," she says, turning back to study the building. Cautiously, she starts towards it, stepping lightly and then halting slightly at the sound of footsteps. Since they sound a ways off yet, she opts to keep going, while with the quiet crunch of gravel, their car moves off, out of the way but not too far to allow an easy retreat should the time come.

Sniffing as though smelling something foul, Marrow adds gruffly, "Remember: codenames only." Real names would be bad. "If it gets too hairy, remember to stick together. No one gets left behind." Looking to Rogue, she stalks along behind her, eyes peeled and watching for trouble. She glances about periodically, as though making sure no one's doubling around them. Getting surrounded would also be bad.

Attrition glances around, hands in his pocket and pursing his lips slightly as he nods. "Sure thing Marrow." he adds in his smooth olive voice. He is looking to the windows instead of down... he remembers that riot and the gunners in the rooftop is not something he wants to repeat. He bites his lip and glances down, keeping in tight formation.

Attrition gets a nod... and a curious look at the bad fake accent, but Quicksilver doesn't pay it too much mind. Instead he starts forward, still doing his part to maintain that protective formation as the group starts toward the building. "Of course," he says to Marrow's reminder, though his eyes and attention are elsewhere, his attention split between his comrades and their immediate surroundings.

Emma follows behind the bunch and has been relatively quiet for now. She too starts forward, following the others, while her blue eyes glance from one spot to another, checking out any strange shapes in the distance. Occasionally, she looks to her comrades when they speak, but her focus remains on the task at hand.

A car can be heard in the distance. More than one in fact. The shuffle stepper rounds the corner. It's a homeless guy with ragged features and more hair on his head than a grizzly bear. He seems to be holding something in both hands close to his body, the brown fabric of his long coat flapping with the breeze. Even from the distance his scent manages to make it to the group approaching the hotel; a cross between dumpster water and sewage.

Rogue makes a face at the putrid smell, though most of her attention is on the sounds of the cars approaching. She holds up a hand to indicate the group should stop. "Ah ain't crazy 'bout this," she murmurs in a very quiet voice, still glaring at the homeless man while keeping the rest of her attention on those cars. "Keep an eye out for those vehicles. You there," she calls out to the man, raising her voice. "What do you got?"

Attrition wrinkles his nose as he stops...pulling out his hands to hang loose at his side, not really aiming for his pipe yet but its a lot closer now. He narrows his eyes at the homeless man.

Marrow doesn't flinch in the slightest at the assaulting stench, but she doesn't exactly breathe deeply either. At Rogue's order, she halts and takes up a position away from the group where she can watch for the cars in question, a hand already straying over the bone spike at her elbow.

The sounds in the distance causes the White Queen's head to perk up slightly, as though expecting something, but the scent of the homeless man causes her thoughts to drift onto the topic of the odor, and the woman's nose wrinkles slightly on instinct. Now isn't the time for making comments though, so she remains quiet. On the order to stop, the woman does and glances around the group, attempting to hear the sounds of the vehicles in the distance once more.

"Yeah, well... We don't have much of a choice, do we?" That's muttered to Rogue, Quicksilver's tone somewhere between resigned and bracing. "... /Christ/." /That/ is obviously in reference to that nasty odor drifting over, said under his breath. His hands ball at his sides as he looks the homeless man up and down -- he's preparing himself for anything from any angle here. And that includes keeping an eye out for the cars as per the order.

"It's the blood... the ski on the moon... the world on fire... the love of the furies... the... the..." The guy's muttering grows indistinct for a moment before dark eyes focus on Rogue. "Fuck you, bitch... I don't take questions from peasant whores and purple donkeys." Despite the randomness of his phrases, he does not slur his speech at all. "The world will be a better place... I heard it and I believe it... everyone dies and everyone needs a place to put their goose. Illness comes and goes but... Who are you people? You're trespassing on my karma." The lights from the car can be seen way down the road.

Rogue's eyebrows go up a bit at the rather nonsensical answer she receives. "And Ah don't take questions from lousy vagrants, but here we are," she drawls in reply, though the laziness in her tone isn't matched by any letting down of her guard. Dropping her voice again, she mutters to the group, "Any idea what this fuck nut is on about, or is he just bat shit crazy?" Her gaze flickers over as the light catches in her peripheral, but she still doesn't want to take her attention off the man. "Look man, if you ain't tied up in this, you're gonna want to find another place to put your karma. By which Ah mean to say you should get gone, now."

Attrition gives a small raise of his brow at this... colorful group of phrases...and his hands go just a little lower as he glances to the cars, still looking to see if anyone is coming out but that comment mostly just...confused him.

Glancing over her shoulder toward Rogue and the homeless man, Marrow scowls but doesn't say anything, letting the Southern belle deal with it. All she does is shrug and offer a shake of her head. Nope. She has no idea. She does, however, mention in a low rumble, "Those cars are gettin' closer... be on your guard, people." She then turns her attention toward the road, trying to figure out how many are on their way based on the number of lights.

Quicksilver narrows his eyes at the very odd response from the grotty man though he's still scanning for the cars. "No fuckin' clue," he answers readily. "My guess is he's lost it. But that doesn't mean he can't be a /dangerous/ fuck nut..." Then the spies the lights and his body goes tense with anticipation. "How many they got?" he asks to no one in particular. Apparently he's wondering the same thing as Marrow.

"Someone was released from the loony bin a little too early," The White Queen mutters darkly to herself about the homeless man and his words. She simply shakes her head and at Marrow's warning, she glances around the group, spotting the lights getting closer. Those hands that are tucked beneath her theatrical gloves ball into fists and the woman attempts to mentally prep herself for the possible worst.

"I'm not insane... I'm awakened. The change will happen to everyone and there's nothing you can do to stop it," He turns toward the motel and starts for the door. "This is my home. Fuck off and scatter. I will not leave and if you try to stop me, I have gas and will burn us all to the starry ends of the eternal's demise." Meanwhile, it's apparent that five cars are on their way.

"Be it ever so humble," Rogue mutters, growing exasperated with the crazy man. "Whatever, man. We ain't gonna fight you. You get caught in the crossfire, don't say Ah didn't try'n warn you. Ah got bigger fish to fry." Despite her dismissive tone, she's not quite willing to completely ignore him, keeping half her attention on him as she begins slowly to look away for the vehicles. "Well, that don't bode well," she mutters to no one in particular.

Attrition raises his hand toward the cars, not really doing anything yet but he turns to look to marrow.. the moment she decides those cars are a threat he is more then ready to get funky with the physics....oh he doesn’t like this at all, this whole scenario spells trouble in big capital letters.

Over her shoulder, Marrow rasps, "Five cars... bad news." Nothing quite like feeling out-numbered. She starts to back up, closing ranks a little. To the homeless guy, she hisses, "Take cover, ya bugger... fer yer own good.' She's not telling him to go away, really... just to duck and cover, as Rogue has. A bone knife is pulled out of her elbow abruptly, as a precaution.

A blonde eyebrow arches upwards only momentarily at the man's threats to burn the motel down. But his insane ranting goes ignored afterwards as the White Queen is able to make out a separation in those approaching headlights. "It looks like... Three... Four... Five." She isn't liking this and there is a sensation of anxiety forming in the pit of her stomach, which the woman attempts to push off. She can't afford to screw this up tonight.

"Huh." That could be in reference to either the crazy guy or the number of cars, though given that Quicksilver's still looking up the road it's probably to the latter. "They plannin' on bringing the whole fuckin' gang?" He's certainly hoping not. He spares a look to the others and readies himself.

The crazy guy gives a mighty kick to the door of the motel. It wasn't necessary; the thing wasn't entirely closed and as a result, the door -slams- into the wall with a loud racket. He starts inside, muttering more obscenities and other nonsense providing that he isn't stopped.

The first car speeds up and drives into the parking area of the motel. The others are still coming, they just maintain a slower pace. As the brakes make a bit of a squeal, two guys hop out of the back. They're armed with shotguns but they keep them leveled at the ground. "You came," Says one of the two. They aren't dressed like thugs. Rather, they're dressed in black sweaters and black combat pants tucked into boots. Either one carries a pistol which they wear low on their right leg. They definitely are not like the little guy who came looking around. "Just relax and the rest of the guys will be here in a minute." The car's engine turns off. The lights die.

"Yeah, we even called ahead and made reservations," Rogue states dryly, finally tearing her attention away from Crazy to eye the newcomers. At the suggestion (for she'll assume it's a suggestion and not a command) that they relax, she cocks a skeptical eyebrow towards the guns. "Somethin' 'bout the weaponry makes it hard to entirely chill out." But she's trying to keep her voice casual, even if her stance does have her more or less at the ready for battle. "Ah thought this was just a meetin' of the minds."

Attrition seems to relax oddly enough, people who come in with guns shown but not blazing just want to send a method. we are big bad scary boys. Since the people who need that message usually aren't he isn't too worried. Still his eyes flit between Marrow and the oncoming cars.

Instinctively, Marrow places herself partially in front of Rogue; not enough to block her from talking to the crew that just arrived. Perhaps she's having memories of the last time she was around heavy weaponry. Already she's scowling and tensing up, preparing for trouble. "Hard to relax when there are those peashooters out in plain view like tha' yeah," she rumbles gruffly. "Frankly, wha' are ya plannin' on doin' wit' them exactly?" she asks aggressively.

Relax? That's easier said than done. The men that hop out of the first car are eyed warily as the White Queen begins to look for anything to use against them should they start shooting. The hands at her sides are still balled into fists and she tries her damned hardest to keep a neutral looking face towards the newcomers, but it ends up looking in a smug manner instead.

He can't help it: as the door slams into the wall, Quicksilver jumps just a little and his head whips back to shoot a narrowed glare over his shoulder at the crazy guy now tucked inside his 'home'. He knows where the action is, though, and his eyes are back on the gun-toters as they hop out of the car; his attention immediately goes to the firearms and, needless to say, it's obvious he's none too happy about them. But he's letting Rogue do the talking... for now, at least. Instead, he lets his appearance speak for him as he stands braced and at attention close at the Southern girl's side.

"What do we plan on doing with them?" The guy repeats Marrow's question, narrowing his eyes as the cars press forward. "We plan on blowing way people that are reported as being tough bastards, that's what. Don't fuck around. We take precautions just like I'm sure you did." The next car in the lot is a smallish van and out comes five more guys. They don't seem interested in the little gathering right now though and instead make for the back of the motel. "They're going to clear the perimeter and make sure it's safe." Explains one of the shotgun guys. The other cars slow to a halt; all three sedans.

"If we did take precautions, they're sure a lot less flashy than yours," Rogue points out, holding up her empty, gloved hands to show how she's technically unarmed. "Y'all sure do like your guns." It's just a comment, but still she manages to imbibe a slight bit of disdain into it, as if she and hers don't /need/ to rely on such things. Casting a quick glance over her shoulder as the other men start flanking the perimeter, she gestures with a quick jerk of her head for someone to keep an eye on that lot. "Good luck of gettin' rid of the pyromaniac in there. Other'n him though, you guys sure do know how to do secluded." While she keeps up the conversation, her dark gaze studies the cars, the men she can see, the weapons.

Attrition gives a small chuckle as he looks around to the men with the guns trying to see how would be the best way to disarm as many of them as possible.......he glances as Pietro... he might be planning on doing the same and he doesn’t want to get in the way. Some of him is listening to the talk, just enough to know they are piss poor negotiators but he is here as muscle so he will do his best.

Tilting her head to one side, Marrow growls, "I'm known as a tough bastard." Bastard, bitch? Details. "Does tha' mean yer gonna try to blow me away?" Key phrase being 'try'? Knuckles are cracked, flashing the bone knife in her one hand... never mind those spikes sticking unnaturally from her back. She takes a step forward, then halts, as though testing the state of things. She doesn't like being put at any kind of disadvantage, so she's putting on a bit of a show, even if Rogue's suggesting they're not as 'flashy'. Can Marrow ever /not/ be flashy? However, for her words and tough attitudes, she's still not being actively aggressive, not getting too close.

Quicksilver gives a humorless snort to the guy's tough words. As the others hop out of the van he tracks them with his eyes, just to be sure they don't try anything fishy. "Looks like you brought a helluva lot of guys. And guns," he points out with the faintest smirk. "So... You guys scared or somethin'?" Though he looks squarely at the gun-toters with that, he keeps a portion of his attention on the ones scoping out the perimeter.

"How about you freaks just keep fuckin' quiet til the boss wants to talk, huh? How'd that be?" That's guy number one. Guy number two looks at Marrow with a scowl. "You wanna throw down now, I don't have a problem with that." He starts to level his gun but his partner puts his hand on it. "Stop that. We're not here to fight, jack ass."

The other guys; the ones that check the perimeter are also armed. At least one of them has an assault rifle; an old school AK 47 by the looks of it. The others are either carrying pistols or shotguns and they're all in the same uniform as the two that have been doing the talking. The other cars wait as if expecting a report shortly.

Rogue narrows her eyes slightly at the mouthy one, though she's making a staying gesture with a hand kept low at her side, a much more subdued attempt to keep her own troops in check. "And how 'bout you mind your manners before we decided to just take our bat and ball and go home. Your boss went to a lot of trouble to get us here. Be a shame you went and ruined it." While shutting up might seem to wiser course of action, Rogue's counting on the chatter to keep them a little distracted, whereas she's good enough at it that she's really not affording it that much of her attention. "Where is the big man, anyway? Ain't polite to keep guests waitin'." She glances over her shoulder again to take a look at those on patrol, but also using it as a cover to drop her voice and add, for the benefit of her gang alone, "Someone get me an accurate count, how many, what weapons, y'know."

Attrition gives a small nod as he raises his brow and says in his thick, fake Russian accent. "Hmm big guns too.... someone is using ze budget." he says softly before he begins to try to count some of the guns... good excuse to have his attention on them in case they go off anyways.

Now Marrow smirks as the gun gets partially aimed at her. It's one of those smirks which suggests she knows something that he doesn't. Perhaps surprisingly, she doesn't duck, back away or hold up a placating hand. She actually seems amused. A little uncharacteristically for her, she blows the guy with the mouth a simple kiss, sans the hand gesture, then winks. At Rogue's request, Marrow glances around, but she can only really see what's in front of her. She's working two jobs right now: potential body shield as well as the walking tank, if one is needed. For now, she's taking point and focusing on the most immediate of potential threats.

"Freaks, huh? Least I'm not the one tryin' to make up for somethin'." Still holding that smirk, Quicksilver glances meaningfully to the guns. Apparently he's not paying much attention to that suggestion of shutting up -- not until Rogue gives him something better to do, that is. "I'm on it." With that, he glances about in an attempt to roughly assess just what they're up against -- and he catches sight of that AK-47. He glances to Attrition and Emma, trying to indicate the possible threat with his eyes if they haven't spotted it themselves.

The guys sweep the back of the motel pretty fast before one of the car doors opens in the other sedans. A guy steps out wearing a Kevlar vest. He's bald, big and looks pretty mean with a square set jaw and goggles over his eyes. He approaches with two other men flanking him, both carrying rifles. "So," He says. "I didn't think you'd accept my invitation. Then again, the messenger was something of a fucking idiot but what can you do? Expendable lives are necessary when dealing with dangerous people like yourselves."

Rogue's gaze flickers over the man, sizing him up immediately. "He was pretty lucky to walk outta there under his own power. A show of good faith. Which Ah can't say Ah'm exactly seein' reflected back here tonight." She shrugs her shoulders, what can you do? "'Course it begs the question, if you're so damned scared of us, and not that Ah'm sayin' y'ain't right to be, but why you keep throwin' rocks at the hornets nest? Can't say as it's endeared you to me, personally." A gloved hand comes up to sweep those white locks out of her eyes as she continues looking at him unflinchingly.

Attrition looks back to Peitro.. nodding before his eyes go back.. ok he found some of the shotgun...and he is pretty sure where a lot of the pistols are at. He glances over to the boss again for a moment....trying to see how it is going. He can't help but wrinkle his nose a bit at the comment of people being expendable.

Marrow turns her attentions to the bald guy for a moment, then to the guys on either side of him, as though assessing their threat level as well. She knows they're horribly out-numbered, but that's not stopped the Brotherhood in the past. "He very nearly became expend/ed/," she grumbles quietly, then falls silent again.

"I've got nine besides Baldy," Quicksilver mutters to Rogue without taking his eyes off of the goggled man. "Three with rifles, the rest with handguns. Far's I can see..." No, he doesn't show any signs of backing down either despite the number of enemy troops currently assembled. He just holds his ground and glares unwaveringly between Mr. Boss and his muscle.

"We're not throwing rocks and we're not trying to endear," Bald guy says. "We want to know if you're in or out. You want to help take this city down along with the filth that live in it? Shake this country up? Show the world we mean business? Or did we mistake amateur posers for professionals? Either way, tonight's the night your destinies change for good."

"See, now that's what Ah'm talkin' 'bout with throwin' rocks. And if Ah was still in third grade, it might hurt my feelin's, you callin' us posers," Rogue states dryly. "We came to hear you out. So far, Ah gotta say, your pitch hasn't exactly convinced /me/, but Ah dunno 'bout my friends here. No, seems to me, we just got us some copycats. All your little buddy promised us was guns and bombs, which, well, as you can see, we ain't exactly in need of." There's a slight pause in her patter as she listens to Quicksilver and then gives a nod of comprehension, her gaze turning a little more distant as she works on processing that information.

Attrition seems to tighten noticeably, if Rouge ended up saying yes... there would be peace tonight but he would have some serious complications about his membership. If, as she hoped, she said no, he would know he chose right, but that would mean things were going to get real ugly real fast.

Turning her attentions back toward the boss again for a second, Marrow offers a bit of a snort. "I ain' convinced, no. Seems to me tha' we weren' th' ones doin' th' approachin', so I think we do fine jus' on our own..." comes her rumbled comment to Rogue, adding to the sentiment. "Seems like a lot of trouble to come out here an' listen to petty insults."

Quicksilver seems less than enthused as well. "You're gonna have to come up with somethin' a helluva lot better than that, man." He glances over to Marrow, nodding slightly to her last but keeps his eyes on those guns. He might not need one to do his job but that doesn't mean he's dumb enough to ignore the threat when it's in front of him.

The White Queens remains quiet, continuing to pass her blue hues between the guns and the men holding them. Their leader's words cause her eyes to lift and regard him steadily as her head tilts slightly to the side as his comments are processed thoughtfully - and with a bit of hesitance, obviously she wasn't really convinced either. The dry remarks from both Marrow and Rogue that are shot back at the man do end up causing a smirk to appear upon her face.

"I'd offer you a last chance," Says the boss and he shrugs. "But I don't see as how it would matter. Never-the-less, you did have a chance to join us. Our plans continue with or without you. This time next week, those little riots that have been happening in the city will look like the Macy's parade. I suppose that our business is concluded unless you have something to add before we depart."

"That it? Gotta say, that was kinda anticlimactic," Rogue drawls with a shrug. "This pitch ever actually work on anyone? We ain't minions, and we got no interest in /bein'/ minions. You shoulda kept your shit outta our backyard. We so much as think you been sniffin' around again and we'll show you just how dangerous we can be. And we don't gotta muck around with pansy little riots either."

Attrition goes into hyper-tense mode, there aren't many reasons people invite others to a neutral location to offer an ultimatum they know they won't except. He leans forward to Marrow and in the softest voice possible whispers. "I got a bad feeling. I think this might be a setup."

There's a nod given to Rogue. "Exactly." With a snort, Marrow adds her two cents, "If it was gonna go off wit' or wit'out us, why even bother askin' us to join ya? Makes a lot of sense, yeah." She hasn't exactly stepped back, however, as though expecting something more or just being ready for something more. There's a slight roll of a shoulder, which pops briefly. "Guess we're takin' our ball an' goin' home then?" she asks, trying to sound nonchalant. Perhaps she picks up on the same thing Attrition seems to. But then, she's just of a suspicious nature.

As talks seem to come to an abrupt close Quicksilver raises an eyebrow. He glances to his teammates with an incredulous expression, lingering on Attrition as he notices him lean toward Marrow. "I've gotta say, I had better things I could've done with my time. I can't believe we drug our asses out here just to listen to that." All the same, he hasn't moved from Rogue's side, hasn't let his guard drop one little bit. Somehow he's not prepared to assume these guys are just going to pack up and go home that easily either.

That's it? It's all over? Without needing to hear Attrition's words, the White Queen can sense that something isn't exactly right with the situation. "I don't buy it," is commented lowly. If that feeling is wrong, she'll be all the more thankful, but right now, she isn't about to pass it off. Her fists ball up again and she visibly tenses while waiting.

"In a week, you think that you'll have a backyard?" Says one of the guards with the shotguns. "We wanted to keep the 'worthy' alive but if you don't join us, you go against us. You have a chance to leave the city but otherwise, don't think that you can throw your pathetic weight around. You've got jack shit."

The boss stops the guy from continuing. "Your threats are amusing, little girl." The bald man smiles at Rogue. "But save them for someone that might be intimidated. Curfew for children is coming up so you'd all best get inside. The next time we see you, it'll be assumed you're with -them- and that means you die."

"Hey, you were the one who said we were dangerous," Rogue says in a fake conciliatory tone. "But it does beg the question why you sent out the armed guard to baby-sit children. You really that big a chicken? Ah think you talk a good game, but strip away your cronies and their guns and you don't amount to much. Somethin' tells me we been at this game a lot longer'n you. You try'n kill us and we'll just hafta kill you worse. Ah'm drawin' a line here, and believe you me, you don't wanna cross it again."

Attrition gives a small nod. "Iz that all you got? Our age? I fall under the brutal assault of your wit." he mutters in his faux Russian accent. He isn't letting up though, eyes staying on those guys with the riffles...they will shoot first most likely, a rifle is harder to aim then a pistol.

Marrow seems completely unimpressed. "Petty insults? Tha's why we came here?" she rasps with a snort. Shaking her head, she rumbles, "Anyone comes snoopin' around again, I won't be holdin' back like I did wit' yer messenger." It's her way of offering her support to Rogue's own claims.

Quicksilver makes an unimpressed noise and adopts a rather bored expression. "Yeah, we can hold our own -- and we can do it without that gun bullshit. Hell, we're walkin' weapons." And if he's foolish enough to doubt that, well, he need only look at those all too obvious bone spikes of Marrow's -- their other 'weapons' are more subtle but no less mighty. "Don't think you're scarin' us with the vague threats, man."

"Very well," The boss gets to his car, placing a hand on the roof. "Execute them all." That one command; the words spoken without much emotion or even a shred of concern sends the men from nervous stationary positions to leveling their weapons to open fire. Not a single one of them seems as though they're planning to hesitate either. Quite the contrary, the prospect of this violence seems to make them quite happy.

And thus concludes the smack-talking portion of our evening. "Shit," Rogue states flatly, and then realizing that's perhaps not the most effective pep talk, she adds, "Okay, time to do your thing." To no one in particular, since this is likely going to take the lot of them if they're going to stay alive. "Someone find us some fucking cover. Ah don't care who you gotta kill to do it." She's already scanning around for some sort of useable cover, a dumpster, anything.

Attrition blinks lightly as he hears this and he jumps into action. Cover eh? Well lets go for the human kind, he decides to go for the best cover of all... he ducks down and charges the boss' car... holding his hand out towards the tires....shooting out rays of his hand towards the wheels to make sure the car can't get enough traction to move properly as he draws the large rusty pipe from his holster... looks like his hands might get tired, anyone who gets in his way gets a quick blast of light to their legs, enough to allow him to push past them, he hopes at least.

No sooner does Marrow see the guns being trained on them does she turn her dagger around to hold it by the tip and then lets it fly... fast and true. She doesn't even need to be told. It's aimed for one of the closest rifle-toting guys -- she's known for her accuracy with thrown weapons. The only other thing she has time to do is holler, "Ya heard th' lady!" as she's already reaching for a second dagger from her other arm...

Those 'vague threats' might not have done much but that simple little command wipes the smirk from Quicksilver's face quite effectively. But it's not fear that replaces it -- no, it's his determined 'business face'. He wastes no time in following suit with Marrow and Attrition, melting into a blur as he makes for the further rifle-toter and aiming to wrestle the firearm from his grasp and give him a good hard smack with the butt of it. If he can't manage to get the gun free he'll just replace the gun-butt with a very forceful hook designed to knock out the gunman. And provided he can do that, he'll move toward the next nearest target.

When the command is heard from the leader, the White Queen's eyes widen for a fraction of a second - it was only time before they started shooting, and she knew that. Instinctually, she ducks down, searching around herself to seek out cover, unlike the others who are charging into the fray. The woman settles for the corner of the motel entrance. Eyes are closed for a moment as she inhales a sharp breath and settles herself in an attempt to stay in control. Once that was done, she glances out from the corner of the building and sets her eyes on one of the men shooting towards them. The blonde then attempts to seek out an one way telepathic link with him, the easy kind for her. Hopefully if he doesn't have any mental defenses, her voice would be heard within his head, as she tries to get him to turn the gun on his partner by mental suggestion.

Shotguns start popping off. Even a pistol or so. The men near the boss' car haul ass away from it and the two that were acting as body guards turn all their attention to the pipe wielding mutant, opening up with their pistols in his direction. If all that weren't scary enough, the barking sound of the AK 47 being hurled into fully automatic mode might just send people over the edge. These guys are aiming for anyone and anything they can hit.

The guy that Pietro attacks struggles only for a moment before he's overwhelmed and taken down with little more than a grunt. His weapon comes free and cracks him with a horrible crunching sound. From within the motel, a scream can be heard. At first it's just a shout then it forms words "MOTHER FUCKERS!!!" And then there's the 'woosh' sound of flames.

Rogue pulls her coat tightly around herself, running as quickly as she can while still keeping it covering her body as much as possible. She might have been inclined to follow Emma to take shelter behind the motel, but the sounds of those flames going up change that plan real quick. Instead, she hits the ground, hard. Remaining there for a moment, she takes the chance to look around and get her bearings, before rolling into a crouch. "Ah think the buildin's goin' up. Everybody stay clear!" she calls out, risking the attention in order to warn the others.

Attrition continues running and he makes a sweep with his hand at the feet of the two body-guards....not taking too much of his attention of the car but giving them enough non-friction to make it hard for them to keep their balance. Still he shouts as a shot grazes close enough to his shoulder to send a cloud of blood behind him. He hunches down more as he continues his charge, swinging his pipe to try to get a hard hit in the heads of one of the gunners as he gets close, hopefully the loss of friction to their feet mean they won't get a good shot at him. Man.. he hopes one of theirs was somehow causing that explosion.. maybe it was Rouge? He never found out what she did.

The second bone knife is pulled out even as Marrow moves to find shelter. Even she is not completely impervious to high-powered gunfire, and her specially designed suit offers no protection. Running toward the building, she turns briefly and lets the second knife fly from her hands, aimed in the direction of the AK 47-wielding guys, in hopes that she doesn't miss her mark again. She starts to head for the motel, but at the sound of the scream inside and the warning from Rogue, the bony one changes directions, which is a mistake. She's just reaching a dumpster when she's hit, not once, but three times in the stomach; her hoarse holler of pain might get lost in the chaos or might not. But she's not down for the count... yet.

Quicksilver doesn't let go of the gun after cracking open the guy's face with it. Instead he holds it at shoulder level in front of him -- still-healing injury be damned -- one hand at each end as one might hold a staff as he charges toward one of the pistol-wielding guys. A few bullets whiz past; he's just barely able to avoid them... so far. There's no telling how long that luck of his will hold. Whether he's failed to notice Rogue's warning or he's just ignoring it for a moment, his attention doesn't shift from his grim task. Not just yet. Right now, he has to take out as many of these punks as possible, for the sake of them all. When he reaches his target, the first order of business is to disarm him with a kick to his gun hand that will probably break nearly every bone in the appendage. Then he aims the broad side of the rifle somewhere between the guy's neck and upper chest.

The scent of burning fills the Queen's nostrils. "Fuck," she mutters sharply. Sitting back and trying to attack mentally was not going to work here with so much going on. She quickly moves away from the building, which unfortunately leaves her in the way of the oncoming bullets. Either way, she quickly rushes towards one of the men with a pistol, getting clipped in the shoulder in the process, which causes her to wince and grit her teeth for a moment at the flash of pain. Channeling the aching anxiety in the pit of her stomach, Queenie's hand crystallizes and she tosses a diamond coated punch at the man's gut once she reaches him.

The shotgun fire is probably the most dangerous and the guys move pretty well while shooting them. The AK however is the real devastation and the guy's a pretty good shot. More importantly, the number of bullets thrown Attrition's way are staggering. Even as the guy's take the punishment of his attack, they don't stop shooting.

Emma's mental probe seems to take no effect on these guys. It's like bumping up against a glass wall. There's just nothing there. However, the attack of Emma with the punch is definitely more than potent enough and there's even teeth to be lost in that blow.

Morrow's blade strikes home in a guy's face and he falls dead in a lump. That earns her attention from one of the shotgun guys as more people come out of the cars to start shooting wildly toward Morrow, Pietro and Attrition.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Rogue mutters as she watches her teammates take their hits and yet more guys join the battle. Since she seems to be avoiding most of their attention so far, she decides to stop playing it safe, which isn't really her strong point anyway. Instead, trying to make a bit of an arc to stay directly out of the line of sight and fire, she suddenly runs for the nearest shooter who's still left standing, yanking off her glove with her teeth as she goes. She hopes to be able to get the drop on him from behind while he's busy with the others and get her bare hand around his neck, or, really, anywhere with exposed skin, but the neck just seems more fun.

Attrition grunts as he takes a shot in the shoulder head on this time, then a nick on his cheek and finally a shoot right in the ass. Oh hell no he is not playing this game.. he throws the pipe hard at the other gunner, hoping to knock him out and aims his hand at the first bodyguards gun while he reaches over to snatch it out of his hand, where if he can manage it he empties fires a few shots into the bodyguard and then aims his gun at the boss...he is not enjoying those holes and the blood loss but if he goes down so will big boy.

Oblivious to what's happening to her teammates, Marrow fights the urge to collapse into a fetal position on the ground. Grunting, she peers out from behind the dumpster she managed to stumble behind, then flings the larger bone-sword at the nearest AK 47 holder, though with less accuracy, no doubt... between pain and the weight of the larger weapon. Her one elbow knife has reformed but the second is still re-growing. After she lets that fly, she falls back against the metal of the dumpster to assess her damage briefly, wincing and fighting to stay conscious.

Quicksilver just pushes his luck for all its worth, moving from gunman to gunman and having altogether too much fun with that little toy he's acquired. He aims a devastating sidekick to the knee of his latest foe and another to his gun hand -- that last move seems to be working particularly well for him tonight. But there are lots of bullets flying around now, many of them aimed for him. And he can only dodge so many. There's a grisly spray of blood as a bullet from the AK catches him in the side, probably breaking at least one rib and doing who knows what else as it exits a slightly lower point in his back. And at that point? Yes, Pietro does scream out in pain. Somehow, though, he manages to collect himself enough to deliver a final blow to that foe of his before trying to backpedal. But to where? He hasn't planned that far. One thing is certain, though, that bullet's slowed him down a bit.

After the blow is delivered, the Queen takes a moment to recover her balance. Once she does though, another blow is delivered. Now she is looking to dish out pain, possibly due to all the crap the woman was bottling in that had to deal with these morons - like the riot, and the mixture of adrenaline flowing. Her mind is reeling and swimming with raw emotion, causing her miss anything that her teammates are doing. Surprisingly, the woman is so caught up in her actions that Pietro's scream isn't even heard. She attempts to grab at that pistol of the battered gunman with that hand of hers that is still flesh. If nothing else, she wants to make sure that he is disarmed before moving on to the next idiot that's wielding a gun.

The boss begins to fall back. Some of the remaining guys (there aren't that many of them) begin to fall back with the boss. The ones engaged by the mutants fight with fanatical disregard for their lives and safety. They are working to buy time for their boss with their lives if necessary and meanwhile, the motel is a blazing inferno. The homeless guy comes running out; a sentient ball of fire that runs around screaming bloody murder.

Attrition aims the gun right at the boss and he growls...and BAM...right as his gun fires he is hit hard in the leg and his shot goes off ... likely hitting one of the men nearby.... he throws the gun at the window hard and turns towards the people shooting at him, sending a ray of light towards one of them.. Gun plus no traction on your feat means the next shot will send him flying backwards.

Rogue makes a bit of a face as she gets that skin-on-skin contact necessary to take the guy down. She holds on tightly, enough that it probably looks like she's strangling him rather than doing it with her powers. She holds on a long time too, and might have held on longer, but at the sound of Pietro's scream she lets the guy crumble to the ground, yanking his gun roughly out of his hands. Holding it at her side and in her wrong (and gloved hand) but otherwise at the ready, this time there's much less sneaking as she approaches on the next gun man. If he doesn't fall back quickly enough, she'll be looking to repeat that little trick on him, fire both literal and metaphorical now blazing in her eyes.

With some effort, Marrow pushes herself off and away from the dumpster, taking a few deep breaths. Adrenaline has kicked in now. She has heard Pietro's scream and the sounds of battle still raging on. Barreling out in a stumbling but quick fashion -- nowhere near Pietro speeds -- she pulls out another bone sword, grits her teeth and heads for the nearest of the gunmen holding their ground, looking to hack and slash her way through them from the side while their attentions remain on the others... while she still has the strength and willpower to do so...

It's all that Quicksilver can do to keep dodging bullets; another one grazes his right shoulder, earning a deep growl as he tries to bury that fresh pain and focus on staying alive -- and taking out anyone who's stupid enough to get in his way. Though he's less than focused and moving a bit erratically he manages to send an elbow to another pistol-waver's neck and a knee to his groin. No, he's not going down without a nice, bloody fight -- even if he's trying to get a bead on his teammates and veer (or perhaps more appropriately 'stagger') in the most promising direction.

Another gunman is in sights, and this time, the Queen decides to fight fire with fire. She lifts that newly obtained pistol within her hand and before she can squeeze off a round, a bullet ends up clipping her in her side from one of the remaining gunmen in the distance. Again, she winces and grits her teeth, actually releasing a pained groan along with it this time. There is another shot fired at her, and this time it's from the gunman she had set her sights on. The weapon is dropped and the woman has to reign all of her willpower to not double back in pain. She cries out, not in pain, but in frustration as she now blindly runs towards him. The diamond encrusted hand grabs at his wrist that is holding the weapon, squeezing it. Her head then crystallizes, just barely, as its getting hard to concentrate through the pain. The woman then attempts to head butt the man.

The inferno motel (recently renamed) seems to have attracted -someone's- attention. Sirens can be heard though they are a considerable way off. The guys who are still fighting struggle on a bit more but it's obvious that those who are left have been injured or outright killed. Still, while there's not as many guns firing anymore there are a couple.

Emma's attack seems to cave the guy's nose in, splattering her with a gush of blood. A small group has managed to flee nearly a full block and a half away; the boss' party. If one takes a moment to ascertain the situation, it would be obvious that the Mutants have conceivably won this round. Or at least, killed more than they lost.

The head on approach doesn't work as well as the sneaky attack. Though she manages to reach the guy, she takes a shot in the back before she can do much more than daze him. She stumbles, nearly falling over, and lets out a groan of pain. But she's not down yet. Instead, she swings the guy around to act as a human shield, all the while her bare hand draining him, while she takes a moment to look around and assess the situation.

Attrition moves his ray over to the running guys for a moment, no doubt tripping up the ones who are fleeing when...BAMM another one in his stomach, his eyes widen for a moment and he glows for a bit before he slumps down, passed out not dead. Though its hard to see from up close and if he keeps loosing blood like that.....

Marrow takes out as many as she can, even just knocking people unconscious or actually impaling with that bone sword of hers. The sound of sirens, however, catches her attention rather abruptly. Not looking to add emergency workers to the roster of the fallen, she pulls back and away from the remaining gunmen as best as she can. Grabbing hold of her mid-section with one arm, she starts to stumble toward where she thinks the others might be, trying to steer clear of bullets and fire as best as she can, calling out hoarsely, "Regroup!"

Quicksilver is still doing his best to hold his own, letting his fist fly -- the other is clasped to the wet mess that is his side and stained deep crimson. Marrow's call gives him a better idea of where his comrades are and he directs his unevenly accelerated staggering in her direction. "/CHRIST/." And through it all, he's trying to avoid that flaming homeless man, wherever he is. This is all just a little overwhelming for him now.

The blood upon her face goes unnoticed. The only thing that is starting to grow with urgency in the Queen's mind is the continuous pain from those bullets that hit and the blood being lost. Her skin returns back to it's normal porcelain color and it's becoming much too hard to concentrate on continuing an attack with her powers. She ends up slumping slightly, feeling drained of strength both mentally and physically as she hears Marrow's orders. The blonde woman gazes around herself and the retreating men before she tries to make her way over to her teammates. Unfortunately, she's exerted herself too much and the ground beneath her seems to be unsteady. Whatever sickening feeling was at the pit of Emma's stomach at the beginning of the fight suddenly swells up. "Shit... I don't..." she manages out as darkness clouds her vision and she then collapses on the group in an unconscious heap.

There are two types of bodies lying on the ground: the dead and the dying. At least, that's true of the camp of bad guys. None of them are able to stand up. The motel is practically a bit of fiery rubble now it's burned so quickly. There's perhaps... ten minutes at the most before the first emergency vehicle arrives.  And there's no more gunfire. That's all stopped.

As Marrow's voice cuts through the psyche invading her own, Rogue gives her head a shake and drops the body to regroup like Marrow shouted. But with so few of them actually making it back to the group under their own steam, she looks grim. "Fuck regroupin'. Ah think it's time we get the hell outta Dodge. You- You guys all right?" she asks a little hesitantly, still moving a little stiffly but otherwise in one piece. "Marrow, you think you got it in you...?" She glances at the unconscious ones with a grimace. "Quicksilver, you, uh, need a hand?" Her own wording makes her notice her missing glove, and she instinctively balls that hand up and hides it away behind her back. Not that one.

Marrow's beginning to look quite pale, herself, but keeps on going out of sheer willpower. Seeing two teammates fall as she turns, she mutters, "Shit." Pulling away from the last of the gunmen, she half-stumbles, half-runs toward first Attrition. Grabbing hold of his shirt-front, she drags him over toward Emma where she gets the same treatment. Both are dragged as she calls out hoarsely to Rogue, "I got them... shake a leg... or we're fucked!" She's bleeding pretty profusely, the damage being pretty bad, even for the bony one. Sheer willpower and adrenaline keeps her going as she seems to be heading in the direction of the car.

"I'll-be-alright," Quicksilver answers stubbornly to Rogue's question, despite the fact that he's pretty pale himself now and he's having balance problems. After a moment of pause he glances over to her, adding a slightly more yielding, "Thanks." But his gaze is starting to lose its focus the longer he holds it and looks to Marrow as she calls out on her way to the car. "C'mon. We're-gettin'-the-fuck-outta-here. /Now/." While he can still stand. Not that Rogue needs much prodding to leave this happy scene, of course. With that he takes off for the car, doubled over with the pain from his wounds but still trying to keep an eye on the Southern girl -- that's both a protective gesture and a practical one as he doesn't want to out-pace her any more than he can strictly help. Controlling his speed is the furthest thing from his mind right now, after all.

"Yeah, Ah'm comin'," Rogue says in a distracted tone, a little too weighed down by the worry and trauma of the evening. Hobbling just a bit, she jogs to keep up with Quicksilver so that they can make their perhaps not quite so triumphant escape. At the car, she hangs back to let the injured ones in first, taking the opportunity to look back at all the carnage, running her mismatched hands back through her hair before finally turning to duck into the car herself to get everyone to the infirmary.

Once at the car, Marrow first piles Attrition in, then Emma, grunting the whole time and swearing profusely. "Fuck..." she mutters, suddenly doubling over as she cradles her stomach, her face wrenching up in pain. Another few deep breaths are sucked in rapidly before she then half-climbs, have falls into the car herself. She manages to get into the very back and then collapses half on her side, half on her stomach, partially curled up into a fetal position, falling silent save for her ragged breathing.

Quicksilver all but dives into the car and he's probably damned lucky that he lands on one of the unconscious ones instead of Marrow's boniness. Because unnecessary stab wounds would really not be fun right now. For his part, he's muttering curses in every language he knows -- and making up a few new ones while he's at it. Screwing up his face against the pain, he slumps against the seat and digs his fingers into the skin around the entry wound in his side as if squeezing it will make it better. Eventually he comes around enough to register just how bad of shape Marrow is in. "/Christ/, Marrow... H-How-many-time-they-get-you?"

Once they're all in the car, Rogue bids the driver to make tracks, and promptly they're off towards the HQ again. For her part, Rogue sits quietly for the most part, drawn and anxious, looking as if she'd like to do something to help. But with no first aid training and a missing glove, she doesn't really want to risk touching anyone and making it even worse. "Just, hold on, all right?" she bids them impotently, quite grateful when the interminable ride finally comes to the end and more qualified people can ferry the injured and unconscious off to the infirmary and sick bay. Rogue just follows in their wake, hanging back but keeping a watchful eye on the proceedings.

Perhaps surprisingly, Marrow is not quite unconscious. Her fortitude and will isn't something she's ever lied about. Weakly, she manages to rasp into the seat cushion, "Three... I think... tore me up..." The back of her outfit, about parallel to her midsection, is a bloody mess, as well. "I'll... I'll be okay... need to rest..." she tries to reassure, though she seems pretty lifeless save for the breathing and talking thing. Otherwise, she doesn't say much more while the car takes them back to the headquarters, letting others take over for once and not complaining at all about it.