Gently, but with undeniable will divesting myself of the holds that would hold me. (Pt. 5: Chances)

[cityship]

The plan was...well, it wasn't simple, but it sort of was.

While the CLF attacked multiple Clone Processing centers to distract the government, the group with the CLF would target one particular one in the region that'd once been New Jersey. The group with the government would offer their services in putting down their own people.

In the center, they'd split up into several groups. One would fight a fake fight, create a massive diversion, and blow up the room where the samples their DNA were being kept in the process. Another group would secure a teleporter pad. That team would teleport out other teams to steal a ship, steal some med tech to teleport to said ship, and steal a medical database. Another team would go to the main command center and hack into the government mainframe to down the sensornet around the planet so they could escape. And Nightwing himself would accompany the clones to upload the harvested memories to the Mother Brains, left unguarded because of the diversionary fighting, and make sure that was all they did.

Meanwhile, there'd be a standing order for all teams to avoid killing other crewmates, and avoid killing guards unless absolutely necessary.

It was a complicated plan. If a single part fouled up, they might find themselves dead, trapped, or worse. But if it worked, it'd work pretty spectacularly and leave them with medtech, a medical database, the clones helped, and possibly a grateful Council depending on how the fight went, because of the ones seemingly aiding the government.

In some worlds, things that were a million-to-one-chance (exactly a million-to-one) by their nature had to work. Let's hope this world is one of them, eh, mission crew?

[ooc: Only comment to threads if it says they are open here. All threads: OPEN. Characters may get injuries up to and including 7 on the Injury Scale (scroll to the bottom). Any higher, and they must ask permission of the plot-runners, just to make sure everyone isn't immobilized without enough people to help move them.]

Comments

Re: Subthread 10: Fight Night

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Hold still. You'll be okay," Howard says, all mocking wit scrubbed right out of his voice. Now's the time to be professional. He takes Kon's pulse in his wrist, counting under his breath as he listens to Kon's breathing and checks the wound. As gory as the spike through Kon's leg is, if there's internal bleeding, that's the first cause of concern. He can tell by the way Kon's gaze seems a bit off that there's probably some minor head injury going on there too, but since Kon was out seconds at most, probably not severe.

He tries to think back over all the medical files he reviewed before coming on this mission, back to all the files they went over for Melting Clock. How's he supposed to keep track of all the different abilities of a few hundred crewmates? Something about not using needles. Something about invulnerability, to which Howard now wants to say 'hah, hah'.

No time to be frustrated now.

"You have a healing factor, right? How fast is it?"

Re: Subthread 10: Fight Night

[so-pregnable.livejournal.com]

His speech sounded a little off because of his swollen lip, as he said, "Damn, that hit was Big Blue class."

Perhaps even stronger, thanks to the teke. It'd been enough force to impale his leg when he was invulnerable, after all.

Kon nodded in answer to Howard's question, expression taut, then immediately regretted it because it shook up his aching head.

"I heal pretty fast," he gritted out. "Might be fast enough to cut off the bleeding before long."

Re: Subthread 10: Fight Night

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"I said hold still, not use head gestures," he says. He has no idea what a Big Blue class hit is, but he expects it's the sort of thing that pulverizes normal humans into dog chow upon impact (a.k.a. something he's seriously not interested in experiencing). He chances a look over his shoulder and is a few shades more than relieved that Superboy 2.0, Now With More Hostility, is occupying himself elsewhere.

He undoes his belt and wraps up around Kon's thigh, a bit above the wound, then draws it into a tight tourniquet. He pulls compression bandages out of the kit and sets them aside for near-immediate use. "This is not going to feel good. You ready?"

Were Howard a nicer person, or a person not afraid that Kon could crush his finger bones with a stray twitch, he might offer to let Kon squeeze his free hand before he yanks the pipe out. But he isn't, so he doesn't. All he offers is a quick advice of "okay, keep your tongue away from your teeth now".

[so-pregnable.livejournal.com]

Yeah, even if it'd been offered he'd have declined on that hand-holding thing.

"No, but it's gotta be done anywa--AAUGH!"

To his credit, he only yelled a little as Howard pulled the pipe out.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Unfortunately, Kon's yell doesn't drown out the cringe-inducing sound pulling the pipe out makes. Howard gets to work on immediately putting disinfectant and compression bandages on. "Any injuries on your back I don't see?"

Since rolling Kon over with a spike through his leg would have been out of the question a moment ago.

[so-pregnable.livejournal.com]

"Just--banged up."

Pretty much the moment his leg was bandaged up, he started to move.

"Thanks."

His expression made it quite clear that his gratitude was very genuine.

"I gotta get back in there."

Getting up when you couldn't put weight on one leg was easier when you could fly.

"Not that I probably need to tell you twice, but if I go down again, don't come after me unless he's out of the picture."

The clone hadn't finished the job because he'd probably thought he had finished it. With Superboy jumping back into the fight and making himself a target, making it clear he wasn't going to be taken out so easy, that wouldn't happen again, and anyone that got in the clone's way would wind up mincemeat.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"You're welcome," Howard says, with actual sincerity. It's some comfort to know that at least someone who witnessed that humiliating, painful beatdown from Harriet can see that he's not a worthless scrap of person.

But seeing as the immediate danger has left and taken the need for professionalism with it, he returns Kon's warning with rolled eyes. "I'm a medic, Jock Boy, not an idiot."

And he darts back for cover.