Megaman - Thursday, April 20, 2000, 10:12 PM
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You send a tightbeam radio transmission to Rick Morgan: "Rick, you copy?"

Rick Morgan sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Yeah Twila. I hear ya. What's up?"

You send a tightbeam radio transmission to Rick Morgan: "You anywhere within the Labs at the moment. I...need to talk with you."

Rick Morgan sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Yeah. Down in the rec room, just finished a snack."

You send a tightbeam radio transmission to Rick Morgan: "Ok. Will be there shortly..."

Not long after her last communiqué, Twila finds herself wandering into the Recreation Room, looking for a particular someone in mind...

Rick Morgan is indeed putting the last of the dishes away he'd been using, and wiping his hands off in the process. As he turns around at the sound of the arrival, he flashes Twila a small smile in the process. "Hey, sis...what's up?"

"Hey." The girl returns the smile, at least halfway, and then it's lost. She never really was any good at this, at it probably shows. She approaches the kitchenette area, appearing thoughtful. "That's...what I needed to talk with you about," she says, leaning against the counter. "Remember that I was...visiting Lauren yesterday?"

Rick Morgan blinks at that, and gives a slow nod. "Yeah, I remember....I was gonna ask you about how it went..."

He then pauses, noting her expression..even her body language. Even though it's considered only a short time they've known about 'each other' he's long since learned to tune into her own emotions. "Something wrong?"

Twila draws a breath, only to release it slowly. "We went shopping at one of the local malls. And...she collapsed. Rick, she's ill..."

Rick Morgan just blinks at that, straightening visibly, even his arms moving to his sides. "Ill!?" he blurts. "What kind of ill I mean....is she allright? Is she gonna be ok?"

Twila Peterson casts her eyes towards the ground, trying to place her thoughts in order. "She...had contracted one of the newer strains of viruses that are out several months ago, but she wasn't able to seek the proper treatment at the onset. That virus, started a casade of damage...." The girl then picks up her gaze and approaches her brother, laying a hand on his upper arm. But she finds she can't look at him directly. "She's dying."

Rick Morgan remains silent for a long time, the words seeming to echo in his head over and over again. Eventually, he leans forward, hands resting on the tabletop in front of him, as if needing to steady himself. "Dying..." he says gently, all but a whisper right now, as if considering. "But...they can do all kinds of stuff nowadays can't they?? I mean....is it just like that!? There's no hope at -all-!?" He turns to face Twila gain, glancing down to meet her eyes with his, almost desperate in searching for a solution.

(Ch. B [None]) Signal Shrike transmits: 'Is everyone okay? I picked up a weird transmit.'.

(Ch. B []) Rick Morgan transmits: 'What do you mean by weird transmit Shrike?'.

(Ch. B [None]) Signal Shrike transmits: 'Picked up part of a scrambled message with a Hunter signature.'.

This time Twila lifts her gaze to meet his. "There is treatment...but it's experimental. And, it's expensive. She doesn't have the funds...." But even from when she first was told that by Lauren herself that doesn't mean she...or Rick...wouldn't find a way to rectify that. Her voice trails off her radio chirps in response to the radio conversation. Business. Lovely.

(Ch. B [None]) Signal Shrike transmits: 'Not sure... just something about assistance.'.

Rick Morgan tilts his head only slightly distractedly at the message, before glancing back to Twila once more. At the very mention of the treatment, he lifts his chin and squares his jaw. "I don't care how expensive it is Twila..." he states. "I'll pay to help her get it, no matter how much it is."

(Ch. B []) Feedback transmits: 'Well, I'd try and help ya figure out whats going on, but I'm stuck in the medbay and I don't think that any of these docs are going to let me out anytime soon. Any idea of where the signal's coming from?'.

Twila Peterson dips her chin slightly. "I feel the same. Between the both of us we would be able to help with the coast." She then falls silent, keeping only a minuscule attention towards the transmissions going back and forth over the communicator while directing the focus of her attention here. "Since it's...experimental it's not known how she'll react to the treatment. One of us should be there to help her through for as long as she needs." She then takes an intake of breath before adding, "You're more needed here, Rick."

Rick Morgan takes a deep breath that that, balling his hands into fists at the thought. He wants to say something otherwise, something against what she just said but...

"I know Twila..." he says quietly, finally letting his gaze down. "I guess....I guess the most I can do is contribute...and visit now and then if I get the chance...even if it doesn't feel like enough."

(Ch. C [Silverstar]) Signal Shrike transmits: 'Repliforce, this is Signal Shrike of the Hunters. Do you require assistance?'.

(Ch. C [None]) Bruce Fury transmits: 'Hello Hunters, this Bruce Fury, UN Liason to the RF. Since Your not UN sanction. I have no choice but to request you stay out of any problems that might be occuring in Texas. That is all.'.

[OOC] Rick Morgan waits for THAT to blow up on channel. :)

(Ch. C [Silverstar]) Signal Shrike transmits: 'With all due respect, Mr. Liason, I wasn't asking you'.

(Ch. C [None]) Bruce Fury transmits: 'And I suggest you listen well because if I ever meet you I'm going to keel haul you!'.

(Ch. C [Silverstar]) Signal Shrike transmits: 'Oookay. Next time you have a Maverick trying to shishkabob you, I'll remember that.'.

(Ch. C [None]) Bruce Fury transmits: 'If I can handle Bass. I sure don't need a mangy robot who can't even get in the Official hero group and has to settle for Wanna-be's help!'.

(Ch. C []) Feedback transmits: 'Hey, lay off my bro you beurocratic punk. Oh, and by the way. Thanks for helping us with the location of this little problem. I'm sure that we'll be meeting at the next UN board meeting, so you can come and try and keel haul me there punk.'.

(Ch. C [None]) Bruce Fury transmits: 'Be glad to! And better bring a couple of friend Cuz your going to need em to pick up your crapped parts!'.

(Ch. C [Silverstar]) Signal Shrike transmits: 'Who ARE you?'.

(Ch. C [None]) General transmits: 'ENOUGH! We have a serious situation under way and if your contribution to it is bickering over this channel you don't need to be on it. Mr. Fury, I will speak with you later. Maverick Hunters, we should have the situation under control. IF, your presence is required you will be contacted. Keep your sensors open for other possible movements and assaults. General out.'.

(Ch. C []) Feedback transmits: 'Be glad to General. We've got our sensors watching as usual, just trying to see if you needed some help, before we were so rudly interrupted and rebutted by this guy. I'd suggest you instruct your liasons on proper conduct. We await your order to move out, until then, happy hunting fellas.'.

Twila's arms snake around Rick's middle in response. "I didn't mention any of this to her while I was there. I wanted to talk to you first...and let you know before anything was done. Even in you can't readily be there physically, you'll be there in spirit...that we'll both know."

Rick Morgan sighs, bringing his own arms over Twila's upper back to hug her close as well. "Yeah...I guess." he says quietly. "I suppose I just...wish I could use this to make up for lost time so to speak." He sighs again, tilting his head forward to touch his forehead to her crown. "Guess this is one of those times when duty gets in the way, huh?"

Twila Peterson overhears some...flared tempers starting over the radio. Not paying much attention to what's actually being said she merely sighs towards them and simply rests there against her brother's chest. "I...suppose. Although...I'm not fully sure how I'll be able to handle leaving. This has become my home." In other words, she's torn.
Rick Morgan lets the edge of his mouth tug upwards faintly. "I think everybody would notice not having you around here for a bit too sis." he says gently. "Specially me. But it's not like you're going away where we'll never see you again." A hand raises up to gently brush through her hair. "I can call every day..."

"Message too?" Twila asks hopefully, holding him tighter as if not wanting to let go.

Rick Morgan laughs gently, squeezing her back. "Of -course-. And you know that every time it gets quiet I'll pop on out there to check up on you both."

The girl offers nod along with a smile. "Think we'd like that." There's a pause before, "Heck...I just thought...Kyo would be able to help cheer her up too. I remember Lauren stating she never had any sort of pet before but always wanted one. Kyo does wonders around here...well, when she's not getting herself into something..." she notes idly.

Rick Morgan smirks faintly. "Then she'd be getting into stuff at Lauren's place. Not that it matters anyway. Wherever you go that's where she'll wanna go too." he chuckles faintly, and leans back, giving a small sigh. "Well, we can mention to her that we'll take care of her expenses for the procedure..." his voice falls more quiet. "And we can hope for the best."

Twila Peterson states, "She was released this morning. After some two members of her church came to see that she would be alright, that's when I came back," as if in idle thought before returning to the present. "What...how do we tell the others? We inform Rock of this first?"

Rick Morgan hmmms quietly, and gives a small nod. "Yeah, best to let him know..." he says gently. "As for the others well, we'll have to think on that. Though I figure we oughta tell em -something-. I think they will miss you and wonder why you aren't around..."

"It's ironic really. Feedback was commenting on that several weeks ago," Twila says sadly, remembering. She offers a shake of her head. "I'm going to miss everyone here too, know matter how crazy it gets."

"Hey..." Rick says suddenly, grinning gently and reaching down to touch her chin with his finger. "Don't start acting like you're leaving somewhere for the rest of your life...cause you're not. Even in this case....." he gives a slow nod of his head. "Everyone will keep in touch...you'll see. You've made alot more than just friends here since you arrived."

Twila Peterson is warmed to hear that, hoping that he indeed is right. At any rate, the separation will certainly put it to the test. "Promise?"

Rick Morgan grins at that. "Promise." He says firmly, sweeping Twila up into another hug.

Of course as fate and an impeccable sense of 'perfect timing' would dictate, Rick's radio then goes off with a rather ominous message, and he stiffens visibly, listening to the transmission. "Looks...like I gotta cut this short." he frowns.

Twila Peterson pulls herself out of the embrace after sneaking in one final hug. "What is it?" she asks, suddenly very concerned.

Rick Morgan takes a step to the side, apparently getting ready to move out. "Something about a train heading for Denver with biological poison gas....from an anonymous source." he frowns further.

Twila blinks towards that. "But, a *tip* to you personally?"

Rick Morgan scowls. "Either that or an invitation. I can't ignore it though...I better check into it."

Needless to say, she doesn't appear too fond of it. "Rick, it sounds like a trap. At least take some sort of backup with you."

Rick Morgan shrugs his shoulders, already starting to move out. "Yeah but who? Everybody else is in Texas. I can't wait for em to get back." He moves towards the door. "I'm gonna move ahead out and check it for myself Twila. Just let em know where I am and what's up...allright?"

Twila Peterson sighs in resignation, clearly disapproving but not knowing what more she can do. "Fine. Alright. And while you're out and about I'll get word to the authorities within that area." .oO(And maybe have a look-see into this myself.)Oo. "Mr. Anon give you any other info?"

Rick Morgan shakes his head. "None other than that...other than he didn't sound friendly." he scowls...there's something he -should- remember from that but.....

"I can't waste anymore time. I better get going right now." And with that, he darts out the doorway on his way there.

Southwest United States
While in the past the States of the Southwest began to grow and thrive with metro areas after decades of dessert life, they now have once again reverted back to the ways of the old west of the mid 1800s. Small towns lie here and there scattered across the sand like ants. The buildings within these towns, unable to afford the newer technologies, have resorted to using good old fashioned wood for the most part. Each town tries to be fairly self sufficient, each having it's own 'Sherrif' as a form of law and a leader. They only import what they cannot grow themselves. Keep in mind though, these are a hearty people as traveling between towns takes much strength and endurance for the desert sands are hot and unforgiving. So are the vultures.

Terror Gecko strokes his chin. "Hey, we can still profit fom this. Any opposition would not be possible to reach our destination in time. Note, the locomotive is steam powered, no energy or electricity. Therefore, there is no signatures from satellite readings. Next, this vehicles s not a registered mode of transportation since it has been out of use, nobody would expect it to be up and functioning. No way they could find us. Barrage, did we carry that dish with us?"

You send a tightbeam radio transmission to Rick Morgan: "Rick, I just contacted the Denver authorities. No trains are expected to come in today. The station was shutdown temporarily for remodeling recently."

Hoverbike <Scimitar> cuts across the terrain like a knife, easily keeping a high rate of speed going as it darts over the terrain. Rick only keeps tossing the words over his radio in his mind...train heading for Denver. Well, where a train travels, there have to be -tracks- right? Though that's alot of track to cover. With hoverthrusters glowing faintly, the hoverbike tilts and follows along one road, going parallel with the tracks for now.

Barrage Grasshopper shakes his head back and forth a few times, his frame still dancing with the plumage of flames and smoke slowly fading away in the back ground as they shove off in the locomotive. He turns back to Terror Gecko, taking a few steps back from the canister. He gives a nod, antennae dancing about his forehead, and like a singular mass, they plunge into the cargo bay, writhing about and expunging said dish from within their buzzing mass.

Rick Morgan sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Either this is one big farce or we got something brewing here that we don't want to be breweing."

You send a tightbeam radio transmission to Rick Morgan: "I've got a feeling that "tip" is anything but. You're walking right into a trap. I'm sure of it."

Rick Morgan sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "I can't just ignore it Twila....what if it turned out to be true?"

You send a tightbeam radio transmission to Rick Morgan: "I don't know. But I do know that if you're walking into an ambush...your playing right into their hands."

Terror Gecko pulls out a small camera from a compartment below. With much haste, the Gecko attaches a few wires to the dish and onto the device. He sets it aside for a second and places a tripod up. Adjusting the lens to face him, he flips a switch and a red light flashes. Terror makes his speech quick and straight to the point, the message cutting regular television broadcast in the southwest.

<Global News Network> The visage of a mechanical yellow lizard interupts regular broadcasting with the fizzle of static. He smiles to reveal a full set of needle sharp teeth, they snap open to emit a low hiss and whip out a forked tongue. The eye glares directly into the camera, an opaque look of madness and insanity glimmering within. "Reploid civilians of Denver, if you value your lives, flee for the city will be leveled in a matter of minutes. As for you humans, die!" He nods and makes things quick. Not exactly a loquacious guy.'.

Hoverbike <Scimitar> accelerates as it turns to start following after the tracks, Rick narrowing his eyes as he peers in the distance. Is that a plume of...smoke? "Well I'll be..." he mutters, adjusting the throttle on the hoverbike to increase, and thusly starting to accelerate after the speeding locomotive.

You send a tightbeam radio transmission to Rick Morgan: "What type is it? Can you make it out?"

Terror Gecko moves himself over to the location of the missile. His hands caressing the weapon once again, seductively feeling the ridges and power within. His eyes glow with glee, feeling the pride of working out such an intricate plan. Oh what a genius he was, everything thus far has gone smoothly. Continuing to admire the device, the Gecko growls out a few raspy words from deep within his chest. "Barrage, did you inform the others of the rendezvous point?"

Rick Morgan sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Uh...I see smoke. Geez, it's like an old locomotive from a couple hundred years ago."

Barrage Grasshopper's buggy little optics bublink and flicker with golden hues, as he communicates with the hundreds of grasshoppers swirling outside along the train. He gives a few nods of his emerald noggin to Terror, "Just finished speaking with them a few moments ago."

Hoverbike <Scimitar> darts to one side, now rapidly starting to overtake the locomotive with it's superior speed. Who needs a horse? Rick grunts, leaning close over his handlebars, noting how this is just ALL wrong right now. No trains scheduled for Denver either...or so the authorities stated. Looks like he's going to have to start making like the Great Train Robbbers of old. With a twist of his wrist, the hoverbike starts to draw up near the rearmost car on the train itself, steadily drawing nearer as his finger hovers near the autopilot switch.

From on the train, Terror Gecko nods and smiles. "Excellent, though I feel confident that we will succeed, it's always good to have backup in case we need to proceed with the contingency plan."

Warlock more or less appears into the scene in a bursting plume of acrid gray smoke, immediately uncomfortable with the dry surroundings as compared to his own drafty study, Warlock sighs to himself. Despite the fact that Terror Gecko holds no rank over him, the sorcerer was intrigued by the idea of harnessing some of the power from the warhead robbery; it would certainly increase his own magical might. Squinting across the way, Warlock's hands work a quick gesture as he produces a small scurrying ball of light which zooms across the plain fields at an amazing rate. Noting both the train in the distance, and the position of his allies, Warlock's ball explodes in a shimmer of light as he is satisfied with his view of the area. Floating into the air with a practiced ease, Warlock begins to drift, albeit slowly, to his allies. A perfect sight to anyone with working vision.

High overhead, the high pitched droning of insect wings and the whine of jet thrusters sounds faintly, growing gradually louder. A dark shape appears, and hurtles towards the train. Breakpoint Locust narrows his eyes as he nears the lumbering shape, and absently adjusts his spectacles. Finally drawing even with it, he lands lightly in and open door and slips inside.

From on the train, Breakpoint Locust steps inside and smiles as he sees Terror and Barrage. He nods to Gecko and then smiles broadly at Barrage. "Brother! So, when do the fireworks begin?" He grins, and reaches behind his back, withdrawing his pad. Keying it to life, he begins inputing data for later study. Always the scientist.

A sputter of smoke churns forth from the bottom of Warlock's billowing robes as he kicks his flight up a notch, gaining speed to catch up with the speeding locomotive. Holding disdain for doorways, Warlock wiggles his fingers in a spidery gesture, once more vanishing from view. In the blink of an eye, the

From on the train, Barrage Grasshopper's forelimbs twitch and fiddle as the graze the levers and pulleys lining the control station of the mighty locomotive, and he glances, side long, to Terror Gecko, giving him an adequate nod. "Always good to have back up, yes. In case things go...awry. But needless to say, my confidence in our plan is very high, however, you must always be prepared for worst case scenarios!" He smiles brightly before going back to the controls.

Rick Morgan blinks as he sees shapes moving about, scowling to himself. With that, he guides the hoverike that much closer, leaning over at the last moment to flick on the autopilot, then reach out for the rear handles on the backmost car itself. Fingers grip tight, as he swings free and hangs in space seemingly for a few seconds, then starts hauling himself aboard. "John Wayne eat your heart out..." he mutters, starting up the ladder to JUST peek over the top of the car and down the length of the train itself.

After obtaining information from the authorities in Denver Twila made it a point to make it into the city before measures were taken to assure the saftey of those who were there. She knew that sooner or later the teleporters would be shut down temporally, at least in certain sections, to avoid allowing anyone into a potentially dangerous situation. Before the recent broadcast was made sge also managed to procure a bike of sorts. It's nowhere near as sophisticated as this found back at the Labs. But it suffices. With Rick's radio signal as a guide she heads out of the city, following after. Whether she is brave or foolish in doing so is up for later debate.

From on the train, Warlock passes an ominous glare over the inhabitants of this specific car, not particularly enjoying the fact that this plan was thrown together by such vermin. Crossing his arms simply, Warlock calls out to his allies in a deadpan, "I have arrived."

From on the train, Terror Gecko crosses his arms, looking left and right at the familiar faces, the gaze resting on nobody in particular. "Ah, atlast you have arrived. Today is a good day for the Mavericks, here and now you will participate in the first steps to our invasion of the world. Our quest to rid the planet of these carbon based scum known as humans." He positions himself behind a crate supporting the missile. "And here is our holy grail, the key to victory and success, it harms not circuitry, but flesh and that alone. Yes, indeed, this is a grim day for anything born naturally." The Gecko flips and activates a two dimensional hologram that glows brightly in the dark holds of the train cargo carts. On it a map of Denver. "As you know, anything and everything Biological will be dead in a fifteen mile radius from the initial origin of the gas. No, this process will not be instant, every ten minutes the gas will cover another mile. The death toll should be catastrophic, fatalities will reach hundreds of thousands if not a million. Now you say, why have I summoned you here my comrades? Well to put it simply, one, you provide support should any unwanted authorities rear their ugly heads, and second, the city shall be clean for our picking after the aerosol has spread."

From on the train, Rick Morgan hauls himself fully onto the back of the car, the wind whipping his hair freely over his bandanna as he checks his jacket for his sidearm. Noting how he's here all by -himself-, but not much else he could do right now anyways...he starts moving forward, easily scampering over the roof of the rearmost car with the aid of his internal gyros. A quick leap takes him to the next, as he starts his slow climb upwards, until pausing at a nearby skylight to peer inside.

From on the train, Terror Gecko blinks and looks up to the ceiling, did he hear somethin? Nah, but just to be safe. "Barrage, send one of your drones, maybe even a couple, to keep sentry above the train."

From on the train, Barrage Grasshopper glances back to Terror Gecko, mildly annoyed as the reptilian reploid broke his admiration of the sleek control panel before him, breaking into a long winded speech. He plops to his merrily golden abdomen, seamed and segmented in all of it's metallic glory, and he listens to the speech, the thought of piles upon piles of rotting human flesh seemingly enjoyable to his person. His antennae bobble in delight as the mental images flash about in his grasshoppery little mind, bounding out of conciousness just as fast as they had entered, replaced time and time again by growing applications of chaos and death. His drones swirl and cling to the locomotive, helping to speed it along as their mini-thrusters and wings push in one entire attempt at aiding, and they continue to writhe.

From on the train, Breakpoint Locust watches Terror Gecko and takes nots as the Gecko speaks. Tap Tap Tap. Frowning, he sees an error and quickly fixes it, restoring the perfection of his notes. He smiles and nods in satisfaction, then continues his monotonous tapping.

From on the train, Rick Morgan blinks as he spots motion up ahead, hunkering down to stare at the drones as they come into view, adhering to the locomotive itself. "Yeah...." he mutters to himself. "So much for a pleasant train ride." He glares down once more towards the skylight, peering JUST in to note those present, not to mention the missile itself. Well, perhaps the best way to stop catastrophe is to stop it from reaching it's destination. Slipping past hte edge of the window, and trying not to reflect the light off his form to draw attention, he starts into a quick dash forward now, leaping to the next car in line and closer to the engine itself.

From on the train, Warlock quietly hovers in the air before his loosely titled comrades, eyes absorbing the situation taking forth as the small lizard-like reploid dishes out orders. Never one to enjoy having orders given his way, Warlock simply continues his silent vigil over the area (thankfully protected by Newton's Law of Motion), awaiting when his talents are called upon for use. A slight yawn escapes the shadowed recesses beneath his pointed headpiece.

From on the train, Terror Gecko glances over to Breakpoint and sighs, shaking his head. Nothing was perfect, not even reploids. He notes the flaw and fixes it immediately to appease his comrade. The lizard arches eyebrows to see if the Locust approved...and he did. With that over, he brings his hiatus to an end, returning to his perch before it was brought to a sudden halt by strange noises. "At any rate, we are approximately fifteen miles from Denver, moving at a pathetic pace of thirty miles per hour. We should be there in half an hour, take your positions before we resume another gathering. Breakpoint you are to assist Barrage and his swarm in sentry, keep an eye out, they -will- be looking for us, though estimated chances of that are highly improbable. Warlock, I know of your ingenuity, it nearly equals my own, maintain a close eye on the weapon. Should anything go a stray, I am confident in your abilities to handle the situation." He nods and looks over to Barrage muttering something silent.

From on the train, Barrage Grasshopper's tedious mass minions clutter and cling to the speedy Locomotive, crawling and writhing over, under, and in general all about one another, tending to the large mechanical steed like honey bee drones would do to their queen. Their numbers escalate well into the hundreds, and may even break the thousand count mark. Their total mass beats out a hypnotic, drowning buzz as their wings beat in unison, and they cheerily tend to the up keep of the locomotive. (For Rick outside and anyone else who really cares.) He rights himself back up to his elongated hind legs, leaning in towards Terror, and he listens intently before giving out the same undercover reply.

From on the train, Terror Gecko points to the ceiling.

From on the train, Barrage Grasshopper has as he is enlightened, and he gives another short reply.

From on the train, Rick Morgan peers at those drones that had adhered themselves to the locomotive, even as he draws up close at the last moment. A thought briefly flashes through his mind as to the possibility that they might be watching him. Then again, they might be paying more attention to guiding the ship along. Slowly, Rick slides forward and down between the juncture between the engine and the foremost car, eyes darting back and forth...before he starts to move for the opening that leads into the engineer's cabin.

From on the train, Warlock opens his mouth for a moment, as if to bark out a scathing comment(or perhaps a fireball). The little whelp actually has to nerve to count himself as holding superiority over Warlock in -any- manner. For anyone other than a fellow Maverick, such an insult to Warlock's character warrants death. Thankfully, one might say, Warlock is too preoccupied with the situation at hand, and simply dismisses Terror's foolish words. Drifting towards the mechanics of the device, Warlock sighs gently as he gives the device the once over, having encountered many more complicated items in the day of his apprenticeship.

From on the train, Breakpoint Locust nods shortly to Terror and finishes entering some things on his pad, then tucks it away. Adjusting his spectacles, he gazes about the train, and decides that the best place to keep watch would be on the roof. Thrusters flare slightly and his wings buzz to life as he lifts off of the floor and out through the hatch. As he exits, he grabs onto the side of the car, swinging himself around and climbing upwards using his hand to remain anchored to the car.

From on the train, Terror Gecko grabs Barrage's shoulder quickly and mutters one last thing. He nods to the rest, "Stay sharp...though victory is guaranteed, it does not hurt to stay cautious."

From on the train, Rick Morgan slips on into the cabin then, eyes narrowing as he peers at the archaic equipment that makes up the controls of this machine. "Sheesh....guess it's back tot he old days of when I watched westerns..." he mutters, eyeing the various tubes and steam pipes that make up the parts needed to control the heat and other systems, all at the easy reach of the engineer. They made em easy to fix in those old days. Not that anyone's here with him.....yet.

Of course back then, stuff broke down easier...or could be MADE to break down easier. Thusly, Rick braces his back against the side wall, as he raises one of his cybernetic legs, to send the heel CRASHING against the largest steam pipe, essentially breaking it in half with one blow and sending out a gout of mist in it's wake. The reaction is almost instantaneous of course, as dials start to go HAYWIRE.

After riding for what seems to be an eternity Twila finally sees some of the smoke several miles up ahead which could only be from the train. Biting her lip, she does the only thing she can think of at the moment. She pulls the bike onto the track as it rounds a slight bend so the bike isn't easily noticable to those onboard. She then makes it a point to make herself scarce from sight to see it this may aid in derailing the train and keep it from goinging any further.

Of course, Twila will have to PAY for the bike after it's destroyed. But that's moot at the moment isn't it?

From on the train, Terror Gecko blinks and hears a form of ruckus in the front of the train. "That sounded like it came from the engine room." He looks down the long connection of carts, much too lazy to investigate things himself, he looks towards the others. "Warlock and I shall continue to moniter and maintain the weapon, one of you two hoppers get up there. Must be another damned leak from this ancient piece of shit. FIX IT!" A wicked finger points the direction towards the front of the long extending locomotive.

Twila Peterson gets herself hiding behind some boulders while biting her lower lip as the train draws closer. "Well, gotta get ready for the weekend," she notes dryly.

From on the train, Barrage Grasshopper bounds towards the engine, but not really cuz Terry had ordered it. He's kinda going there cuz he already had the door open and everything. He pretty much just collapses heavily into the engine room as Rick's actions cause the train to buckle and jar a bit, yet still push on. The shockwave is enough to unsettle Barrage's footing, and he liquidly collapses into the back cabin. He grumbles as he picks himself back up, chaingun dragging along the floor of the steel plated corridor. He frowns as the room has already started up a nice collection of steam, and he barks behind him. "One of the valve pipes was just upended!"

From on the train, On top of the car, Breakpoint blinks as he sees a gout of steam shoot from the engine, and feels the entire train shudder. "What the...?" Releasing his hold, he throws caution to the wind, and fires his thrusters at maximum, wings beating furiously. He advances up the train, drawing closer to the engine and the cause of the disturbance. Dropping down at the last car, he squeezes in after Barrage and looks around. "Well....this is just great."

From on the train, Terror Gecko looks up and over to warlock across from him and on the other end of the powerful weapon. "Isn't it beautiful?"

From on the train, Warlock continues to merely float in the air, appearing completely unaffected by the sudden jarring of the train. Casually drawing out his spellbook, Warlock carefully pours over the book(one eye still keeping a coherent guard over the main controls and of his general surroundings), bringing to mind the various incantations of his magical spells, particularly his longer-ranged teleportation. Should the need arise itself.

From on the train, Rick Morgan eeps as he's pushed back further into the steam, forcing himself to flatten against the front to remain out of sight, and experience the rather UNCOMFORTABLE heat of the wall behind him. Of course with two Mavericks in the same cabin, he's kind of stuck between a rock and a hard place...and it's only a matter of time that they come forward to try and fix it. Scowling to himself, he finds that he's got little in the form of escape routes...save the way he came out.

Hand reaching over a pressure guage and wrenching it as far as he can to start building up that incredibly nasty boiler pressure, he then turns to grab hold of an overhead pipe, suddenly swinging out with both cybernetic feet aimed for the biggest target. Breakpoint Locust. Or rather, his chest, in an attempt to push him back and out of the way. "Looks fine to me boys! Heads up! You'll escuse me if I take my leave right now!"

From on the train, Breakpoint Locust takes a step forwards into the stem, looking for some kind of shut off valve. Unfortunately, this takes him right into Rick's kick. he barely even has time to register the voice or the blow before he hurtles backwards and slams into the far wall. Sliding down it, dazed, he shakes his head groggily. Pointing at the interloper, he shreaks at Barrage. "Get him!" Adjusting his spectacles, he clambers back to his feet and moves warily towards Rick.

You send a tightbeam radio transmission to Rick Morgan: "If you're on the train now, I heavily suggest you find a way off within the next few minutes..."

From on the train, Terror Gecko taps his radio and calls for an update. "Breakpoint, Barrage, can it be fixed?"

From on the train, Barrage Grasshopper glances in complete awe as he watches Rick descend and plate two mechanical legs into the heart of his comrade. "Damn you Carbon!", he shouts, mindlessly, ignoring Terror Gecko's radio transmission as more pressing matters have affirmed themselves at this present stage in time. "You won't cheat us out of our glory! Not today! Not EVER!", he cries, the mighty chaingun, nearly twice his own size, rearing up with a roar, it's barrels eganging and spinning round and round, before little stinging bullets are shot into the immidiat locale. Even tho it's going to damage equipment, Barrage is pretty stupid anyways.

Rick Morgan sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Easier said than done! What the heck are you talkin about anyway? Aren't you back at... *gunfire*"

Twila Peterson winces a bit into her radio. OK, so Big Brother probably won't be all that happy with her...if he lives long enough to be unhappy with her that is.

You send a tightbeam radio transmission to Rick Morgan: "Your busy as is. Just trust me on this."

From on the train, Rick Morgan is already moving. He ain't stupid...to sit still with murderous Mavericks putting their sights on him is suicide in itself. Feh, you'd think they'd appreciate the fact he's 40 percent robot. Then again the 60 percent human still must get on their nerves. Guess you can't please everybody. Even as Breakpoint Locust is knocked over, Rick leaps forward, as the sudden barrage of gunfire rips into the equipment around him, apparently about to help him along in his job in the process. Not that he's able to stop and appreciate the irony...no he's too busy running for his life. Bullets streaking around him like angry hornets, he makes a desperate leap from the cabin, cybernetic legs propelling him upwards as his hands reach for the edge of the car itself, a low grunt coming from him as he tries to haul himself up as bloody fast as he can.

From on the train, The train roars on, down the tracks, the only path that it can go. Such power is not without limits. Steam continues to billow from pipes, up and over as the train pushes on. Gears whirring and fire burning deep inside the engine, the mechanical monstrosity continues to approach something parked in its path. Like a mindless beast, it ignores this minor dilemma.

Meanwhile, inside, the Gecko blinks and whips his head over to the front. Loud explosions of the unmistakable chaingun of Barrage echo down despite the drowning clanks of the wheels. A sneer cuts across his jaw to reveal a serious set of teeth. His eyes glance over to Warlock. "Stay here, watch the bomb." He halts at the door frame and looks back one final time at warlock. "And Warlock..." His cold reptilian gaze quite unsettling. " - the clock is ticking."

From on the train, Terror Gecko swivels and heads onto Barrages position, responding to the transmission.

From on the train, Breakpoint Locust dodges to the side as Barrage begins firing wildly. As a consequence, he is in perfect position to see Rick going for the edge of the car. Darting forwards, he snaps his right arm out, and metal explodes and twists as his right arm deforms into the Eightball Gun. Swinging the massive eight barreled grenade launcher, Breakpoint attempts to intercept Rick's swing.

From on the train, Warlock, who wasn't quite planning on moving off anywhere yet continues to float in front of the bomb for a while, still flipping through his spellbook. However, he grows bored quickly; summoning up a small ebonwood seat for himself, Warlock creates a mockery of gravity as he proceeds to rock in his seat- in mid-air.

From on the train, Barrage Grasshopper frowns as his chaingun remains just a quick step behind Rick, the human plummeting into the open doorway and out his range. "****!", he luridly curses in his profane frustration, Excalibur's barrels slowing down as he makes his transmission, and he communicates with his drones outside. With a resounding cry of glee that nearly derails the train itself, the entire writhing mass spills inside each and every car in succession, starting with the one nearest the cabin.

From on the train, Rick Morgan makes it a split second before the grenade gets there. Of course this has mixed results...as while he does make it, the grenade winds up going off VERY close. On the plus side, it helps propel him further upwards, actually -over- the roof of the car and spinning over to land roughly on his back, staring up at the sky in the process, the wind knocked out of him.

"Ugh..."

He'd like nothing more than to just sit there and catch a second wind, but then there's the issue of sudden skittering legs and beating wings. "Aw no...." he mutters, suddenly propelling himself to his feet once more, breathing heavily. "C'mon Rick...get the lead out..." With that, he starts to move once more, already in danger of being caught up by the swirling mass. He even is forced to turn and kick one that gets too close to try and send it hurtling off the train, before leaping to the next car again, struggling to breath right while at the same time trying to stay upright from the whistling wind. He has no idea -where- he's gonna get to...cause he's starting to run out of train. And with the way he was fooling with those boilers, it may be that the whole locomotive itself has turned into a rushing bomb.

From on the train, Breakpoint Locust has reconnected.
From on the train, The mechanical beast of old continues on and on, no sign of stopping for what blocks its path. It can only follow the tracks after all. It's not anything compared to the new more sophisticated technology of today. Steam pumping, engine roaring, and wheels chugging, the two object collide.

*KRAKATHOOOM*

The train derails to the left, tilting slightly before tipping over to the side. Metal twists in every form possible, shards of shrapnel soaring every which way. The steam pipes erupt as new exhausts present themselves. The bike is in even worse condition. Pieces of the more modernized vehicle explode in a furious fireball that rises to the air in a cloud of mushroom. Remnants of the bike scatter like grass in the green open fields, it blends in with the ancient pieces of the relic.
Inside, the impact is felt by all. The walls swing side to side and gravity appears to have changed its min from attracting objects to the floor but now to the walls. Terror Gecko's frame swings hard to the left, slamming against the wall and making a permanent imprint.

From on the train, Terror Gecko picks himself up, the reptile is rather groggy. Struggling to keep his balance, the reploid leans against the wall with his cannon forearm. The eyes blink and look around, dazed, but it was easy to tell that they were no longer in motion. Every crate flipped to its side and mutilated, splintered wood scattered on the wall which now served as the floor. He punches the opposite wall hard with his free hand, "God damn you Rick!"
Hiding herself behind her haven of sorts a somewhat of a safe distance, Twila quickly turns away, holding her ears to shield her hearing from the imminent gut-wrenching sound of the collision. There's a small pang of guilt as the bike itself is done away with. After all, it wasn't really hers to do with as she pleased. But, it it was for a good enough cause...

Twila's primary concern is for her brother however, last she knew he was still on the train.

From on the train, Rick Morgan keeps a runnin, mainly cause to stop is to expose his fleshy self to the mercies of that explosion. He can't be fixed like reploids afterall...not with any measure of ease for that matter. At the sudden, ear shattering sound of impact, he braces himself, leaning low and giving one last final leap, free of the final car of the train. "Aw criiipes!" he howls, arms pinwheeling as he moves into momentary freefall, already bending his legs in preparation of the impact. From Twila's hiding place she's no doubt subject to a lovely view of her brother coming down on the ground with what could only be accounted to bone crunching force...which thankfully is turned to 'really landing hard' as his legs bend with the impact, and he starts into a long, semi-controlled roll along the grass, tucking himself into as tight a ball as he can and praying he dosen't hit a rock somewhere.

This goes for a couple dozen feet, until momentum finally wears off and Rick himself is laid out flat in the grass.

From on the train, Breakpoint Locust is flungs across the car by the impact, slamming into the wall with a resounding thud. The metal buckles under the impact, and Breakpoint peels out of his impact point, flopping to the floor with a clang. Shaking his head groggily, he pushes to his knees and sways there for a moment, until another smaller explosion flings him completely out of the car. Screaming, arms waving wildly, he bounces along the grass, kicking up huge clods of dirt everytime he lands.

From on the train, Barrage Grasshopper whips his emerald skull quick to the front of the train as a loud collision rocks the entire train, and he glances back to Breakpoint, beady faceted optics going wide. "TIMBER!", he shouts at the top of his little reploid lungs, already feeling the teetering the front half of the train has felt. The cratering impact outside shudders down the encompassing girth of the locomotive, which up ends violently, crashing into the bike outside. He blinks a few times, totally surprised and taken aback by this new chain of events; a chain of events that no one has probably took into account. Barrage hugs his chaingun to the rest of his body as the trailer he and Breakpoint had been occupying initiates the same course of action a few cars ahead had, and it leaps skywards, like one massive, lurching catipiller, and flops over to the side.

"****IT!", is the only word Barrage can muster as he's adequately thrown, without much argument from gravity or friction, into the cieling of the car. Walls all about him shudder and collapse as the entrench the grassy plains outside, and the only real reason he's still alive at the moment is because the few dozen grasshopper reploids that constantly tend to him take most of the damage, but even still, Barrage is thoroughly damaged. As the walls around him continue to decrease, he panics and scrambles about, trying to find an exit, but to no avail. Almost like one of those guys working on the Titanic as it sank, he's stuck, trapped, and doomed. He scratches at the walls that continue to embark upon him and leave him with smaller space as time goes by, and all he can utter is a shrill cry of fear in one ear ringing burst.

Well, that of course means that Twila need not wonder any longer regarding her brother's whereabouts. She looked up just in time to see him sprout wings for those few moments before he came back in for a landing not far from the train itself. As She watches where he tumbles she's already up from her protective spot and running towards his direction. If some of what's on that train, r those who had been running it, decide to explode any time soon, whether literally or figuratively, it wouldn't be good for either her or her brother to be anywhere near. If one or two of the Mavericks fly free from the train themselves as a result of the crash, Twila doesn't pay them any mind. She has only one concern right now...

From on the train, Terror Gecko begins to walk back over to Warlock's position to check on the weapon. Yes, they could still succeed, the mission has not failed yet. They could set it off now and be rid a good portion of the city. A smile brings itself to the surface and into expression...and Rick could never leave the zone in time. His pace quickens and he begins screaming to get the attention of the bomb keeper, "Warlock! Is the weapon intact?" His gaze swings side to side in search for Mr. Hocus Pocus through the rubble. "Warlock!?"
From on the train, The train itself, in it's dramatic, emotion filled ending, smashes to the left, consequently landing on about half of Barrage's locust army. They all rise up before their initial death and shout in a furious cry of pain and suffering before being smeared into the landscape, the whole mass of which bleeds into the grass, covering the expanse in a bloody scene. A large pool of cobalt liquids seep from the underbelly of the locomotive.
Rick Morgan groans softly, form obscured in the grass as he stares upwards, already feeling every bit of ache and pain in his body right now. Thankfully, he dosen't feel any signs of a sharp broken type of pain...not that what he's experiencing any pleasantries with what he's got already. He's going to be feeling bruises upon bruises for a week to come.

"Oh man..." Rick mutters, slowly pushing himself over onto his stomach, letting his face rest in the grass a few moments, before pushing himself up, with a low grunt of effort, struggling to put one leg underneath to help keep him up.
From on the train, Breakpoint Locust winces and rolls painfully onto his back, gasping as he stares up at the sky. Groaning, he slowly, ever so slowly, clambers to his feet and staggers drunkenly back towards the wreck. "Brother! Brother can you hear me?"

From on the train, Barrage Grasshopper's total force of -alive- drones weep in a fitful rage of sorrow, pity, and anger. They beat out an even louder buzz as they dive into the massive amount of wreckage. Various components of the damaged train soar over head as the drones dig into the grasshopper graveyard.
It takes a little time for the young woman to run the length of train while avoiding it's remains. By the time she reaches Rick he's already attempting to stand. She arrives by his side, perhaps unnoticed by his concentration on trying to get himself upright, perhaps not. "Save the scolding until we're back home, alright?" she manages, as she offers her aid to help him up.

From on the train, Terror Gecko fails to find his comrade but he does successfully find the weapon, and to him, that's more important. Grasping the edge, his clawed reptilian fingers lace around the edge. With all his synthetic Maverick strength, Terror yanks the bomb out of all the wreckage. It shrieks as bits of the shell rip open to reveal circuitry. Random sparks fling to the air before dying off on the ground. The train echoes with the shriek of dragging metal, killing the silence. Bringing it outside, The yellow Lizard is easily spotted pulling the weapon of mass destruction into view. "You see this Rick? Huh? It's still intact!" The reploid leans over and begins punching buttons. "Soon you shall be nothing but a gurgling pool of bio mass!"

Rick Morgan grunts in surprise, already about to start demanding why Twila's here.....but even now he can tell how important it is to get away. Limping a bit, he moves along with her guidance, draping an arm over her form as he begins to move away from the wreck itself. Finally though, he does stop. "Wait...." He breathes, turning and reaching inside his jacket. Eyes settle on Terror Gecko, and narrow thusly in recognition.....as well as unrestrained anger of his own.

With that, his hand comes out into full view, holding his revolver steady, as he levels it straight at the overturned locomotive...or more specifically, the main boiler itself. "I beg to differ lizard face!" He growls, before pulling the trigger.

BLAM!

No sooner has the gunshot even rung out, than the technician turns and begins to move away as FAST as he can, limp or no limp he's practically dragging Twila now. "Let's GO!"

From on the train, The locust swarm continues upon its quest to locate their commander, tearing into the wreckage as one collective mass with one collective purpose, resembling the efficiency of one mighty robot, exhaustive and repetitious. The buzzing and crying melds together as they do their best to free Barrage from the wreckage.

Not as if the mechanic'ssis in any position to argue either. She catches sight of the bioler mere seconds before the shot rings out from his revolver. So fast is her attention quickly diverted back to escaping she isn't even given time to think of what type explosion would occur due the igniting of the broiler. However, more than likely, she won't be waiting too long... "I'm goin', I'm goin'..."

Terror Gecko eyes the shot and is too late to do anything. Pressure built in the engine of unreleased steam as well as the firing blazing at to the explosion. The bull lights a few sparks, and thats all it takes. The chain reaction continues, heat from the spark ignite the greater power laying dormant. It activates this harnessed energy in a from that is all too recognizable by all.

*KABOOOOOOOM*

A new crater spreads out across the ground. Dust flies into the air, forming a cloud of brpown that rushes through the landscape. The inferno is not the most dangerious, as it rises high into the atmosphere. No, shards of metal shriek in a flaming fury. Small comets from a greater explosion.
Disappearing in the explosion, the Maverick known as Terror Gecko is engulfed at high temperatures.

Rick Morgan has been in enough situations where explosions are involved to know what comes next, namely...shrapnel. More than once he's had it bounce harmlessly off the armor of his mecha as a side effect. Only now he doesn't have almost twelve inches of titanium alloy to protect him, or Twila for that matter. Wordlessly, he reaches out to take hold of her, pushing her to the ground as he throws himself over, as if to help shield her form any backblast effect...or shrapnel that could get through. Like wizzing bullets, one can hear the buzz and whistle of razor sharp shards of metal cleaving overhead, just above the two figures as they hit the ground.

Breakpoint Locust continues to stagger drunkenly along the wreckage of the train, looking for hs brother in the wreckage. As the shot rings out, his head snaps about in horror to stare right at the boiler. Breakpoint's eyes widen to an incredible size, and he leaps into the air, thrusters and wings working at full speed as he zooms away, trying to outrun the shockwave. It catches him however, and he hurtles through the air, totally out of control. As he is flipped around, a piece of shrapnel catches him in the back, stabbing right into his right thruster. Firing wildly, the thruster destroys Breakpoint's control. A high pitched scream trails off into the distance as he hurtles off into the unknown trying to regain control of his systems. Suddenly, a few seconds later, a flash lights the sky, and a puff of smoke spirals drunkenly away from the area.

Barrage Grasshopper, and all the debri covering him, is rocked and riveted, then shot up into the skies. A massive shout of death is heard from below as he rises into the air, the mass of his drones being promptly destroyed by the ringing explosion. However, a few hundred manage to live on through the whole mess, and with each of them they carry with them tons of salvage components of their ill fated comrades. Oh yeah, they'll be back to pick up the rest of the pieces, and they'll get you, Mr. Morgan, and your little Twila, too! As Barrage careens into the air, along with Terror, he grabs hold of his comrade and bolts back to base.

Twila Peterson emits a sharp yelp as she's shoved towards the unforgiving down as her brothers throws himself on top of her to offer the only protection from the debris that he can offer, himself. All she can do is wait for the results of the explosion to ebb...

Rick Morgan doesn't move again until silence has fallen on the scene once more, finally giving a slow shift and letting out a long breath. Almost hesitantly, he finally shifts and sits up, grunting as he moves limbs that are bruised to heck and back, his gaze centering back on the train and the...crater that occupies what's left of it.
Rick Morgan says, "I think we're ok now.."

Twila Peterson nods silently while carefully pushing herself up to sit beside the cyborg. She shakily turns to glance back at the smoldering remains of the locomotive...or what little there is within the case. After taking in a few more breaths she tears herself away from the sight and flicks a glance back towards Rick. "You...alright?"

Rick Morgan takes several deep breaths, watching the flames and smoke trickle into the sky, before finally giving a slow nod. "Yeah..." he says quietly, pushing himself up to kneeling with a grunt, then slowly, ever so slowly pushing to a full stand. Despite the obvious pain he's in....he still flashes a small glare at his sis then. "Now you wanna tell me what you're doing out here?"

Twila Peterson conjurs up a innocently guilty look. But knowing he's not going to be taken in by any claim of innocence she stands up and dusts herself off lightly. "I trusted you to handle this, Rick. Really, I did. But I just don't trust whoever was running those railways..."

Rick Morgan frowns visibly at that, and shakes his head. "Would it have been good for Lauren if we'd BOTH gotten killed out here?" he says sharply for a brief moment...and then softens his gaze just a bit. She did it for the reason that she was worried about him....though the thought if anything had happened to -her- is nearly too much to bear. Finally, he sighs and just shakes his head, limping forward again. "Forget it....just...let's get home right now."

Twila Peterson offer a look of helplessness as Rick trudges forward as she follows behind. "Yeah...I guess..." she muses, hoping she isn't in for a tonuge lashing once they get back to the labs hopefully...