DIVISION (John)

John tried to resist rolling his eyes as Huntsman gave his little victory speech. Really he had no reason to be feeling superior to the villain, a few days ago his little kidnapping would probably have worked perfectly, at least before some unknown benefactor had upgraded John's account to the Aegis tier.

The decision to play along had been spur of the moment, and had certainly left his clones in the room vulnerable, but the chance of turning the kidnapping around had been too sweet an opportunity to waste. With Foxtrot unconscious in a bag rather than his prime, the team now had a lot more options, and a lot less to worry about.

Which still raised the question of why.

Why in the hell would Huntsman want to capture him. He didn't know anything, didn't have anything, and his capture would more likely spur the team into coming after the villain than convince them to back off.

Distract and delay then, like so much of what they'd faced so far. Get the team to focus on rescuing him rather than dealing with all the issues cropping up around Detroit.

But why not just kill them all like he appeared to be doing to the Heroes League?

The crash of glass brought him back to the room, though to be fair, he'd been following the situation closely, unlike Artisan, John didn't have issues with multitasking.

Artisan. Could Huntsman be concerned about the Alien AI? About Artisan's interference in whatever his plans were? Since he was unable to remove the remote super directly, could he be hoping to redirect his attention elsewhere?

While he was considering Hunstman's motivations, he had Charlie sneak a peek around the room, and seeing the spider-bots gone, he had his clones rise to their feet once more, enjoying the surprise of his team-mates perhaps a little more than he should.

"Huh, what?" Shift muttered eloquently.

The main reason he'd held back on sharing his good fortune with the team was so he could surprise them during the next training session. Never assume you know the enemies numbers was a good lesson to learn, one the Huntsman was probably going to be taking to heart after tonight.

"Reports of my capture have been greatly exaggerated." John replied, quoting Twain a little smugly.

"What?" Shift muttered again.

John couldn't help sighing, and waved off Shift's confusion. The biggest problem right now was sloughing ash and carbon as he got to his feet in the middle of the room.

Naked and hairless, Red was giving off enough heat that the air around him was starting to warp and wave, and his eyes were molten orange as he looked around the room in confusion.

Given Hunstsman's send off, John had to expect that whatever ruse the villain had used to bring the Furies out to the mill, the Outsiders weren't going to like it.

He moved Bravo calmingly toward Red, trying to draw the hero's attention to his clones, and away from the rest of the team. As he got closer, he could feel the heat like a wall, pulsing against him and the smell of burning hair inside Bravo's armour made his nose twitch.

He tried shouting to get the man's attention, but the solid wall of heat made talking impossible. Which would rule out Oscen talking him down.

Whatever option Red had chosen to resurrect his character, it was obvious he didn't have control over it. John turned his attention to his teammates, ready to order them out of the building once more, when Red's eyes dropped to the floor and found his murdered comrades.

Shit, John thought as the air around the hero caught fire, his eyes blazing in rage as he looked back up at the Outsiders.

SHIFT (Michael)

Michael was still trying to work out how Division had avoided capture. His current theory was that one of the clones in the room was Division prime, but that seemed a risky move for the usually careful hero.

Growing up, Michael had never been good at guessing the secret behind card tricks. They always seemed so convoluted, requiring so much time and preparation that he just couldn't imagine who would want to invest that kind of time just to stump a couple of people for less than a minute.

He now had an answer as to the kind of person, but he was still no closer to figuring out why Division enjoyed messing with them so much. He claimed it was to get them thinking outside the box, to expect the unexpected, but honestly it just left Michael confused rather than enlightened. Was it possible to think about things in the wrong way?

Anyway, Division's machinations could come later, right now they had Red to deal with. A naked, pink, hairless, Red. Michael kind of wished he had a camera.

"This must be worse for you," he whispered to Oscen, "what with your enhanced vision."

The girl cocked an eyebrow at him in amusement, and Michael was instantly smitten. He'd been trying to learn how to do that for years, figuring it would lend him an air of maturity and mystery. He was still trying to duplicate the feat when Red exploded.

Time slowed as Michael's brain spun. The wall of flames inching towards him as he tried to desperately make a decision. There was just no way to save everyone in the room. The drone and the clones weren't a priority, but what if Division was actually there? But in thinking about Division, he knew exactly what the man would tell him to do.

He heard Oscen's oof as his shoulder hit her stomach, lifting her from the ground and carrying them both straight through the adjacent window. Her costume wasn't as armoured as his, and blood flicked into the air amidst the sparkling fragments of glass.

He tensed his core, just managing to twist them in the air as he felt gravity wrap itself around them.

This is gonna hurt, he thought reaching out for the drainpipe below the window as more glass exploded out above him in a wave of flame. The wrench in his shoulder was excruciating.

Warning! You have received a status effect.

He didn't have time to check, but given the loose feeling of his arm, it was probably at least dislocated. However, the grab had been worth it since it had brought him in close enough to the building that with a boot against a lintel, he managed to both slow their fall, and spin them so that Michael would take the brunt of the impact.

This is definitely gonna hurt, he thought, closing his eyes as they crashed into the concrete below.

Warning! You have been dealt damage exceeding 50% of your remaining Hit Points.

Stunned!

Warning! Hit Points less than 5%.

Unconscious!

He woke a few seconds later, his body feeling like a mass of broken bones and torn muscle. Still, he managed to groan his way to his feet and checked on Oscen. Alive, wounded, unconscious.

He tapped the comm in his ear but just got back static. Artisan really needs to work on more reliable comms, he thought. If he could survive a fall in one piece, there was no reason his tech shouldn't be able to. Well, kind of one piece, he thought, leaning against the wall in pain, tempted to try knocking his shoulder back into joint.

He flinched, cursing in pain as another wave of fire and fury burst from the building above.

Right, no time for experimental procedures, he thought Situation check. Only a hand full of HP, crazy pyromancer above, who knows how many spider-bots lurking in the shadows, he shivered at the thought, cursing again as his body screamed at him, then glanced down. And a wounded team-mate at my feet. Definitely time for a tactical withdrawal.

He couldn't help grunting like an old hog, wincing and cussing as he struggled to lift Oscen from the ground using just his good arm and with as little bending as possible.

Great, now where to? He thought, settling the girl on his good shoulder. HQ? No one there, and Division ordered Naiad to the Jackal shit-show. Artisan's lab? No medical facilities, and Artisan wouldn't thank him for just turning up. Hospital? No, Oscen wouldn't thank him for risking her identity.

"Shit-show it is." Michael muttered, at least he had the hope of Naiad being there, and he'd probably be back in one piece by the time they arrived, so at least he'd be able to help out. He lurched off at a wobbly run, sparing a single concerned glance back at the flame shrouded building behind him.