Nikita (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ms_legendary) wrote2012-10-31 05:15 pm
ms_legendary) wrote2012-10-31 05:15 pm
Entry tags:
[Open] Devil's Hole
My name is Nikita. Seven years ago, I was taken off Death Row and forced to be an assassin for an elite, covert ops unit of the U.S. government. They called it a second chance, a chance to right the wrongs I'd done. They lied. Four years ago, I got away and started over for real. I became a ghost, living off the grid, and striking from the shadows with my allies. The tide was turning, we had them against the ropes, but then they caught me and dropped me here, on a tropical island purgatory I can't leave or inside my mind. And they've been hunting me. Everyone says today's the day it all goes down. If we can just make it through til tomorrow, the nightmares will stop. Maybe they're right. But if this is Division, if this is Amanda, they made one fatal mistake. They gave me someone to fight for, they gave me Alex and Jason. And now they're screwed...
At first light, Nikita and Alex move out from their extremely well protected hut. They have the ancient pistols they've managed to scavenge from Rapture, the knives, and Nikita has Michael's knife. They hide in the trees, low on intel, unsure what to believe, but trusting what they've picked up from ITF chatter and island-wide notices.
They don't have long to wait. The first group of Division agents hit the perimeter ground wire before the curve of the sun breaks the horizon. There are three of them that get roasted in the fires of impromptu Molotov cocktails. Alex cocks her head, lifting an eyebrow to ask if they should go down and kick the weapons out of the fire.
As much as Nikita wants to, there were three. Standard first deployment team from Division, Amanda, Gogol's going to be at least six. She shakes her head and mouths, 'We wait'. The next three come to strip their fallen fellows of their weapons, shooting the two that have a few breaths remaining to end their pain.
They advance on the second circle of Nikita's defenses, careful. They've been warned. Nikita is their bogeyman. The one who got away. The one who always gets away. Nothing could've prepared them for a Nikita gone guerilla, though, not with Alex at her side and Alex to protect. One, by one, by one, they step into beautifully hidden traps and end up upside down in hemp nets.
There will be more, but not until these fail to report in. Nikita nods to Alex and they drop from the trees, avoiding errant gunfire, and show no mercy in snapping the necks of the two men and one woman who've come to kill them. No mercy, no hesitation, and they waste no time in stripping them of every useful bit of weaponry and technology, trading their island clothes for lightweight black Kevlar, tac vests, weapons, and boots.
In silence, they wire the door of the hut with a spring-mounted automatic and pray today's not the day that someone who isn't Jason or Cassandra decides to come looking for them. Jason will see the signs. They will know not to come any closer. They will know that if the grass is scorched, Nikita is not inside.
The plan all along has been to lead any pursuit out to dinosaur territory where they can get some help picking off the teams from the local fauna. It's a good plan, but they pick up radio chatter mixed English and Russian. Nikita can't tell if it's Amanda and Ari's people or Division, yet, but they're talking about taking hostages. About the island innocents. About having a bead on 'Nikita's little band of merry idiots'.
It's got Amanda written all over it, and even though they know it's a trap, even though Michael's dead by Brandt's hand, or Division's if what she's overheard is true... even though Birkhoff, Michael, Ryan, Sean, Owen, Alex are all dead according to what she heard in the days before Alex arrived, there's nothing else they can do. That kind of loyalty can't be bought, it can't be twisted, it can't be turned. Nikita won't leave them, dead or alive.
They agree to stay in contact by radio and that the first one who finds Jason gives him an extra radio and reads him in. It's not Nikita's favorite plan, but even on an island this small, without Birkhoff QBing, they have to split up. "I will see you when this is all over," she tells Alex, hugs her hard, and then sprints off before she can doubt her own words.
Six down, Amanda's Gogol-fluffed Division to go and it's not even five a.m.
[ooc: the final thread of this is locked to Nikita, Alex, and Jason and will take place in Division in dinosaur territory. Until then, feel free to encounter black-clad extremely well-trained Russian and English speaking assassins and/or Nikita anywhere else on the island. Note: warning for violence, murder, killing, death, but probably no torture or anything especially gruesome.]
At first light, Nikita and Alex move out from their extremely well protected hut. They have the ancient pistols they've managed to scavenge from Rapture, the knives, and Nikita has Michael's knife. They hide in the trees, low on intel, unsure what to believe, but trusting what they've picked up from ITF chatter and island-wide notices.
They don't have long to wait. The first group of Division agents hit the perimeter ground wire before the curve of the sun breaks the horizon. There are three of them that get roasted in the fires of impromptu Molotov cocktails. Alex cocks her head, lifting an eyebrow to ask if they should go down and kick the weapons out of the fire.
As much as Nikita wants to, there were three. Standard first deployment team from Division, Amanda, Gogol's going to be at least six. She shakes her head and mouths, 'We wait'. The next three come to strip their fallen fellows of their weapons, shooting the two that have a few breaths remaining to end their pain.
They advance on the second circle of Nikita's defenses, careful. They've been warned. Nikita is their bogeyman. The one who got away. The one who always gets away. Nothing could've prepared them for a Nikita gone guerilla, though, not with Alex at her side and Alex to protect. One, by one, by one, they step into beautifully hidden traps and end up upside down in hemp nets.
There will be more, but not until these fail to report in. Nikita nods to Alex and they drop from the trees, avoiding errant gunfire, and show no mercy in snapping the necks of the two men and one woman who've come to kill them. No mercy, no hesitation, and they waste no time in stripping them of every useful bit of weaponry and technology, trading their island clothes for lightweight black Kevlar, tac vests, weapons, and boots.
In silence, they wire the door of the hut with a spring-mounted automatic and pray today's not the day that someone who isn't Jason or Cassandra decides to come looking for them. Jason will see the signs. They will know not to come any closer. They will know that if the grass is scorched, Nikita is not inside.
The plan all along has been to lead any pursuit out to dinosaur territory where they can get some help picking off the teams from the local fauna. It's a good plan, but they pick up radio chatter mixed English and Russian. Nikita can't tell if it's Amanda and Ari's people or Division, yet, but they're talking about taking hostages. About the island innocents. About having a bead on 'Nikita's little band of merry idiots'.
It's got Amanda written all over it, and even though they know it's a trap, even though Michael's dead by Brandt's hand, or Division's if what she's overheard is true... even though Birkhoff, Michael, Ryan, Sean, Owen, Alex are all dead according to what she heard in the days before Alex arrived, there's nothing else they can do. That kind of loyalty can't be bought, it can't be twisted, it can't be turned. Nikita won't leave them, dead or alive.
They agree to stay in contact by radio and that the first one who finds Jason gives him an extra radio and reads him in. It's not Nikita's favorite plan, but even on an island this small, without Birkhoff QBing, they have to split up. "I will see you when this is all over," she tells Alex, hugs her hard, and then sprints off before she can doubt her own words.
Six down, Amanda's Gogol-fluffed Division to go and it's not even five a.m.
[ooc: the final thread of this is locked to Nikita, Alex, and Jason and will take place in Division in dinosaur territory. Until then, feel free to encounter black-clad extremely well-trained Russian and English speaking assassins and/or Nikita anywhere else on the island. Note: warning for violence, murder, killing, death, but probably no torture or anything especially gruesome.]
no subject
Whatever they want, whoever they're here for, it's not her. If she wants to help, best chance is if they think she's toothless. That lasts until one of them mentions 'the Hawaiian kid', and in a heartbeat, everything she's ever learned is at her fingertips and steel-tipped boots.
She stops, head down, and one of them prods her with the nose of his automatic. His mistake. She grabs it, yanks him toward her, and before the surprise is done flickering in his eyes, bone and cartilage are crunching above his knee and her fist his slamming into his throat. His hold on the weapon releases, and she spins it around to shoot his partner before the woman's got enough distance to shoot her without hitting him. She's dead before she hits the ground and a few seconds later, so's the guy.
Kate's aware these two are way better trained than her and it's just dumb luck and sheer fury that made that work out, but goddamn it. No one threatens her kid.
Quick as a cat Kate strips them of all their useful weaponry and takes off again in search of the insectoids and reptilians she saw before. Because if they're Abnormals, they might go after Lilo too. Sanctuary's part of her ohana.
no subject
He hadn't stopped to think about the first, saw scorched earth and a man in black, and he'd dropped him without a thought, squeezed an extra bullet into his head before he ever considered what Cap would say.
By the third, Jason's well past remorse.
There's fury in him, rage like he hasn't felt since Bruce disappeared, but Jason lets it in like the old friend it is, lets it feed him, make him faster, smarter, deadlier. He follows a pair of them - Division, they have to be, just like she said - and watches the fence. Three more slip out of dinosaur territory, and one of them says her name.
Jason spends two more bullets, and uses his knife on the third.
He takes their ammo and their comms, then slips inside himself, eyes wild but hands steady when he casts a line high into the trees.
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