The District of Columbia

[SINIB]

The District of Columbia

Freedom. Democracy. Liberty. Property.

The District of Columbia is the largest and the wealthiest republic in the Nexus. Unlike its neighbors, the freedom of the press is protected and cherished, as is the right to say and do whatever one desires, so long as it does not infringe upon the rights of others. Its denizens are fiercely proud of their district and many would lay down their lives to protect its territorial integrity and regional interests.

Columbia derives its name from its patron goddess, the goddess of free thought, knowledge, wealth, and victory. She watches over her people, protects their rights through the holy commandments of the constitution, and guides them in times of peril. Unfortunately, with the rise of Little Russia, peril has become commonplace indeed.

Columbia herself is immortal, indestructible, and formless. The only way to truly destroy her would be to destroy every one of her followers. However, while she can bless certain individuals with exceptionalism, without a physical form, her options for direct interference are limited. To circumvent this, she creates avatars suitable to house a portion of her divine essence and protect Columbia’s independence with the help of the richest members of society.

Colombia, and by extension, her followers, are obsessed with the forward march of technology. Many futuristic gadgets are available for sale here that enhance quality of life, even including some cybernetic enhancements and attachments. The district is powered by a massive fusion power plant that provides nearly free electricity in effectively limitless capacities.

Culture and Demographics

Columbia is populated by people of all civilized races. Humans are the majority, but one living within her borders would come across elves, dwarves, demonspawn, and the like on a daily basis. The majority live comfortable, middle class lives, and nobody is truly left behind. Educational opportunities are abundant, and if nothing else, one may always join the military and swear to protect their country.

Healthcare and basic housing is guaranteed for low income citizens through a combination of government and temple grants, as well as charitable donations from powerful corporations and individuals. Higher income people must purchase a plan from private sources, as do any foreigners living within her boundaries.

More than anything else though, Columbians love their guns. Nearly every citizen above the age of four knows how to shoot a gun, taught in schools by trained professionals. Mock tank battles are performed as a sport by schoolchildren, where they learn cooperation and motor skills required to drive and maintain the outdated vehicles. Most adults own multiple firearms of varying levels of strength, and going out to hunt supernatural animals is a time honored tradition. Basic firearms knowledge is considered important enough to be tested on when applying for citizenship.

Unlike many other districts, citizenship is not an automatic process. While Columbia’s love for her citizens is limitless, land and space is unfortunately not. There is a fully fleshed out immigration process which one must go through in order to gain full rights under the law, and the government may evict non-citizens which it considers as rabble rousers. Among other requirements, one must know how to fire a gun, pass educational requirements, assert a usefulness to the goddess, and swear their eternal and undying loyalty to Her.

Another more subtle benefit of citizenship exists unspoken, but known to all who receive it. The presence of the goddess in their daily lives has done wonders for their mental and spiritual well being. Even those who never reach the heights of the ultra successful find themselves experiencing lives they feel have purpose and value. As such, they are all the more inclined to work toward their goals and experience good relations with their fellows.

Geography and Landmarks

The District of Columbia covers a considerable amount of land, but is defined primarily by being bordered by the Great Divide and its enormous estuary network on three sides. The coasts of these waterways are occupied by sprawling port cities which serve as refueling bases and centers of trade. Naval embankments meant to keep sea monsters and would-be conquerors away stretch along the portions of the coast where the land is low enough for invaders to potentially land. As one goes further inland the average elevation increases, and urbanization generally decreases. Suburbs give way to interstate highway and a multitude of small factory towns, and villages surrounded by miles of forest or farmland.

On the southern coast is the second largest city in the district, Port Independence. The site of the first and second wars for freedom, it is now the center of the district’s naval construction and coordination efforts. It is full of monuments and temples to the glory of Columbia, and serves as the first arrival point for all legitimate immigrants who didn’t just spontaneously show up due to the nature of the Nexus. There are massive walled compounds just beyond the shore set up to contain legal migrants for short periods during the processing period for their residential visas.

In the very center of the district lies the capital of Columbia, Known as Washington, and informally as the District Center, it is an enormous, sprawling city which dominates the landscape for miles in every direction with its pristine, glistening skyscrapers. In the very center of the capital is a mountain holy to Columbia, the peak of which has an enormous bronze statue of Columbia with an everlit torch. It is said that Columbia looks over all her peoples from her heavenly perch, protecting them and their unprecedented prosperity. At is base is the Capitol building, where congress meets, and the Supreme Court of D.C., which oversees all rulings of law in the district at its discretion.



Columbia


The original form of Columbia that is ubiquitously represented in shrines, temples, and statues throughout the district. She rose up from the people’s wishes for freedom and lead them to victory in their quest for independence ages past. Now, she watches over every one of her followers, pushing them to work hard and achieve the success that she knows they can obtain with enough work.

Physical Attributes

Strength: —

Agility: —

Durability: —

Magic: None

Magic Resistance: Divine

Willpower Determinator

Other Abilities:

Columbian Exceptionalism

Columbia pushes her people, subtly encouraging them to strive for excellence and glory. She loves every one of them, and wishes for them to be the best that they can be. She appears to them in dreams and visions. Rewards come to those who work hard. One will find oneself rising through the ranks to the greatest extent of their abilities. Learning new things will be easier for her followers, and some of the best lawyers in the Nexus originate from Columbia. The greatest of her charges may receive more concrete blessings which enhance their abilities far beyond their normal human limits, raising their physical stats and granting them inhuman abilities.

Avatars
Columbia is unable to interfere directly with the world in her true form. She is limited to appearing in dreams. She instead manifests a fraction of her divine spark and creates avatars she works through to spread the word of freedom and tolerance. Using these forms, she protects her beloved citizens through superior firepower. She may only maintain a few avatars at a time.

While her avatars have their own personalities and unique strength of wills, they are inextricably linked to Columbia. More severe mental compulsions that take contol of them would prove to be completely ineffective, and if the goddess desires it, she can make them aware of lesser ones which are twisting their perceptions of the world. However, she values freedom and independence, even within herself, so she would usually refrain unless directly asked by them, or if she needed them to perform their duties at maximum efficiency immediately.


Washington

Physical Attributes

Strength: Heroic

Agility: Incredible

Durability: Legendary

Magic: None

Magic Resistance: Medium

Willpower Zen

Other Abilities:

Superior Firepower
DC’s citizens love guns, and Columbia herself is no different. She has nine guns, each of which pack the punch of sixteen inch naval artillery guns. She also possesses secondary armaments, including, point defense gatling guns(Fantastic) which she can use for both combat and shooting down incoming projectiles, including magical bolts and missile pods(Legendary). She only has a limited amount of missiles, requiring time to generate more after using them up. Once fired, they home in on their target.

Melee Skill

Washington is incredibly strong, and often resorts to fighting like a brutish beast. However, this lack of traditional form or skill hides her true power. She has an uncanny ability to predict exactly what moves her opponents will do next, and instinctually incorporates that into her fighting style. She’s impossible to ambush, and seems to have a sixth sense for combat that borders into the supernatural.

Divine Grace
Anybody can sense her divine origins in her presence. She’s unnaturally attractive and has a calming air to any who worship Columbia, and her mere presence bolsters morale greatly. Troops led by her will not break, and will happily fight to the last to defend their beloved country. If she were to die, these effects would immediately vanish. It also allows her to walk on water.

Washington was Columbia’s first avatar which she took during the war for independence against Pine Garden. Large, powerful, and boisterous, Washington is the district’s primary source of defense from incursions. She is well known among the citizenry for frequenting loud parties where lots of food and drink is involved, and many men have bragged on the net about bedding her. Washington is the supreme commander of the armed forces, charged with defending democracy and upholding the rule of law.

Enterprise




Strength: Fantastic

Agility: Fantastic

Durability: Heroic

Magic: None

Magic Resistance: Medium

Willpower Gritty

Other Abilities:

Base Strike
Enterprise is very different from her sister. While Washington uses overwhelming firepower to obliterate her foes, Enty takes a more surgical approach to combat. Using her bow, Enterprise launches drones equipped with a wide variety of armaments-most commonly autocannons, missiles, and smart bombs. They are capable of scouting large areas, and are often seen patrolling the city’s airspace, protecting it from unwanted intrusions. Drones equipped with autocanons hit for fantastic damage, while bombs  move in more slowly and can be shot down, but hit for legendary. They fly around at about the speed of sound, and can be shot down by a well placed bullet from a high-caliber rifle. She can control up to ninety aircraft at once, but needs time to deploy them into battle. About thirty routinely patrol the air at all times, while any more need to be deployed from her bow-catapult.

The Wings of Liberty
In Columbian mythology, the bald eagle is the form that truly pious individuals take after death, watching over their brethren forevermore. Enterprise is the guardian of the strongest of the eagles. This immense bird follows her around everywhere, and attacks in tandem with her planes. While she fights, the bird attacks in pincers, putting enemies in a pinch. It is straight fantastic, and can be summoned and unsummoned by her at will.

Melee Skill
While Enterprise is a carrier, she is also extremely accomplished in close quarters combat. Utilizing her bow to launch kamikaze attacks in close quarters, as well as being able to hold her own with even the best of the best in a fistfight, she’s an extremely dangerous combatant.

Divine Grace
Anybody can sense her divine origins in her presence. She’s unnaturally attractive and has a calming air to any who worship Columbia, and her mere presence bolsters morale greatly. Troops led by her will not break, and will happily fight to the last to defend their beloved country. If she were to die, these effects would immediately vanish. It also allows her to walk on water.

Enterprise herself also serves as the chief justice of the Supreme Court of Columbia, and has final judicial say over interpretations of the laws and their constitutionality. She’s more demure than her outgoing sister, but she’s well known and beloved by the populace all the same. They know that behind her stern face lays a person who truly and utterly cares for their well being.

The Columbian Heresies

No religion is whole. No faith is pure. Across the river from the great District of Columbia lay the lands of the heretics who demonstrate to the world that even having your goddess tell you that you’re doing it wrong to your face isn’t enough to keep doctrines unified. Originally they were a collection of subversive cults, countercultural movements, and political dissidents who in the absence of official recognition or tolerance crossed the river to Columbia’s east, and seceded just a few generations ago. Once they won their independence their unity did not last.

Now they are four in number, and each represents a divergence from mainstream Columbianism. The only thing they have in common is militarism, sectarian competition, and a willingness to close ranks against external threats.

Alaba is made up of the worst of the heretics, those who believe that ‘Columbian exceptionalism’ means that anyone who isn’t Columbian should serve those who are. When Columbians talk about reasons to hate heretics it is these slavers they point to as exhibit number one. They furnish their slave-based economic system by plying the waters of the Divide and the Great Ocean to raid other districts’ coastal settlements for captives. Most slaves are owned by corporations, but wealthy individuals may also possess them directly. Household slaves are considered perverse to possess but are not illegal. Immigration is uncommon but welcome.

Dunham is a collection of prudish conservatives who believe (correctly) that Columbia’s current libertine attitudes are the result of demonic corruption from her seductive neighbors to the west. They believe that by keeping themselves pure of heart and body in the hopes that one day their faith will restore the ‘true form’ of their great goddess. Beyond this distinction they generally resemble ordinary Columbian society, with an extra emphasis on gun ownership and a fondness for river fishing. They and the Jirali came together to construct a great palisade along their borders with the Great Northern Forest to prevent incursions by wildlife and Columbian special forces units.

Name: Americana

Race: Divine Avatar

Age: -

Height: 5’9”

Weight: -

Appearance:


Attributes

Strength: Fantastic

Agility: Fantastic

Durability: Fantastic

Willpower: Shonen Determinator

Magic:

Magic Resistance: High

Other Abilities:

Rogue Avatar:
Americana asserts that she is the last bastion of her goddess’s true form. In a sense, she is correct. She values bravery, chastity, courtesy, honorable conduct, equal rights for all, and more than anything else, purity. To this end, she bides her time creating a powerbase within the walls of Dunham, drawing sustenance from their faith and waiting for the right time for her to strike back and scour the filth which has so thoroughly infected Columbia and her people, and to purge the demonic filth which has been slowly gathering power in the Nexus once and for all. Even as powerful she has become by hoarding power for herself, Americana rejects the notion that she is a goddess in her own rite, insisting on retaining her unfaltering connection to Columbia and resisting her goddess’s ministrations and attempts to negotiate and reconcile. Were her willpower to falter enough, Columbia would be able to forcibly reintegrate her into the whole and end her rebellious streak for good.

Divine Purity
Americana’s purity is her strength. It grants her unparalleled vigor and the will to fight on as a living representation of her ideals. It allows her to manifest armor which will not falter as long as her will to fight remains burning brightly, as well as a blade which shall not be broken so long as she draws breath. These items are direct manifestations of her soul’s will to fight, and as such cannot be stolen. Should they be damaged, scuffs and cuts upon them will begin to close up after a minute, shing ever more brightly as they do so.

Strikes she makes with her blade inflict damage at the rank of legendary, while her armor’s toughness is rated at heroic. She is incredibly skilled with the blade, able to perform artful attacks without a single wasted movement, to read her opponent’s intentions and counterattack with unparalleled accuracy that borders upon the divine.

Matron Goddess of the People
To the people of Dunham, Americana is their collective mother. They do not lust after her as their errant cousins do, and they serve her with the love and respect with which she has so justly earned. It is their duty to obey her in times of trouble, engage in good conduct and treat others with the respect and courtesy which they deserve as fellow humans. In return, she protects them, teaches them, and mingles with them in a manner which would be viewed as almost heretical within modern Columbian society.

When within her presence, those aligned with her feel no fear, as they were within the protection of their family. Those opposed to her, on the other hand, know that their time shall come soon, and only those with exceptional wills are even able to oppose her within her presence. They will feel the intense pressure of her ironclad will crushing down upon them. With a glare, she can make most people flee in terror. making them prone to making mistakes which they might otherwise not make and generally fighting as if one were intensely distracted, preventing them from reaching their full potential. Only those with determinator or zen willpower are able to fully shrug this off, even as they still feel the discomfort. Those with Gritty willpower can resist this well, although as the pressure bears down on them, they may end up making minor mistakes which could cost them the victory over a prolonged fight. Below that, her opponents would be overwhelmed with a desire to flee or surrender, if running away is impossible.

Assets:

Weakness: List anything that an enemy could take advantage of, in combat or otherwise.

Intimacies:
Lesser Tie: Columbia(Herself)
Lesser Tie: Washington(My foolish elder sister)
Greater Tie: The People of Dunham(Matron)
Lesser Tie: Succubi(Contempt)
Greater Cause: I must purify Columbia
Greater Principle: I must always stand by my convictions and do that which is right


Jiral is a lighter shade of black compared to Alaba - they believe that all of humanity are the children of Columbia already, and that all humans should be united beneath her banner. They are very specific about this - only humans are worthy of Columbia’s love and protection, and the lesser races need to at best be kept in benighted ghettos where they cannot pollute their goddess with their filthy prayers, and at worst exterminated so Her great heart cannot reach out in misguided sympathy for their wretched existence. They are the most militant of the Columbian heretics because all of the others hate them almost as much as they fear a crusade by their estranged orthodox fellows.

The Union has embraced the idea of a radical form of Columbian freedom - freedom from economic coercion. On paper they are less a single governing body, and more of a collection of loosely aligned communes who in principle voluntarily share their property. In practice they have evolved into a sort of tribal federation where networks of extended family units retain their property among their affines and barter for what they do not have with other families. They have a rather elaborate system for doing so, and insist that money is not a part of it and that in avoiding such a thing they have escaped the oppression of capital exchanges. They organize themselves at the district level through a council of tribal elders who meet at set dates and times at alternating locations - just in case the Columbians want to try assassinating them while they’re all in one place.

[Aiden]

A Long Time Ago, in a Realm Far Far Away…

CROSS EFFECTS
EPISODE 4, A NEW ORDER

It is a time of chaos in the
Nexus. Everyday a multitude of heroes
and horrors pour forth from the ether,
each with their own agendas and desires
which shroud the realm's districts beneath
the shadow of impending doom.

Seeking to take back their own destiny, a small
group of native operatives led by a man
known only as Fixer 32 are on the run after a
daring raid on the archives of the dreaded FIRST
CHIEF YAMADA to recover a vital secret which
may be the key to finally controlling the Nexus,
forever.

As they stop for the night in a hidden safe house
off the coast of the District of Columbia, Fixer 32
seeks to contact their dread master, the evil Lord Syn,
to deliver the news of their mission's outcome, a
sense of dread rotting within their heart…

----------------------

A Bunker Far Far Below

??:?? AM Nexus Time - Day ?

A cloaked figure sits alone upon a throne of metal in a sealed chamber. The only light is cast by an enormous computer screen, but even that cannot pierce the darkness cast by the wicked one’s hood across their face. Its gloved fingers tap against the arm of its resting place, beating out a slow, steady pattern as the creature on the other side of the transmission, Fixer 32 reports in with the voice of a young man. Another, smaller creature with a similar appearance stands slightly to the first one’s left, silently supporting him.

“... and so it pains me to confess that, due to the interference of the Circle of Six, we were unable to acquire the Compass as you requested.” Fixer 32 adjusted the position of his damaged mask, his left eye revealed by a multitude of cracks and shattered metal pieces. It was bloodshot. “I take full responsibility for our decision to retreat from the scene empty handed, Lord Syn. For our failure, you have my sincerest apologies.”

The tapping ceased, and the cloaked figure leaned forward on their throne. The haunting echo of furious breathing filled the empty chamber, somehow defying the shaky resolution of the encrypted communication to seep into the bones of Fixer 32 and his remaining operatives. It was only the utmost professionalism that prevented them from doing more than shifting uncomfortably in place.

Lord Syn’s hand reached toward the screen. The man began to tremble, the stress of an unseen force filling his nerves with an arctic cold. “You aren’t telling me everything, are you, Thirty-Two…? No, I see it now. You saw it too then, didn’t you?” The cloaked figure’s voice was worse than the breathing, liquid contempt made manifest in audio form. “You thought you could acquire something extra for yourself - a weapon of great power that would lift you up in my service. It distracted you from your task, didn’t it?”

The masked woman by Fixer 32’s side tried to sidle forward, to catch the man as he began to lose strength in his legs. His visible eye was wide with panic as his master took in all that he was, and he could only stand because of the woman’s hand upon his chest. “My lord, please, he was merely trying to further our mis-!” And then the woman’s other hand went up to her throat, and her voice came out in a choked rasp as even the mask couldn’t disguise her imminent suffering.

“I do not tolerate interruptions.” The woman was dismissed from Lord Syn’s view with a swipe of the hand. Then, the collapsing form of Fixer 32 rose up from the ground, both hands clutching at his throat. His head is at an elevation above where his legs could possibly allow were he standing on his own power. “Nor do I tolerate those who attempt to deceive me, Thirty-Two. Your blind ambition cost your operatives their mission. But you were willing to accept the blame, were you not?”

The man thrashed and struggled, desperately seeking to pull away a hand at his throat that never existed. His voice came out hoarse as he fought for every lasp gasp of air. “P-Please, my lord, I can still be of, service to you…! Mercy, please!”

The cloaked figure’s smile was audible despite the unnatural reverberations of their voice. “There is no mercy.” The smile quickly curdled into scorn as they brought their fingers closer together, tightening the noose. “Not after I took you all in, and lifted you up with the fruits of my knowledge! When I put my weapons in your hands, and gave you new life and bold purpose!”

Shining pinpoints of crimson revealed themselves from under the shroud of Lord Syn’s hood. “And now, I’m afraid I would be much better off without your services. Goodbye, Thirty-Two.” They watched as the masked woman who had attempted to defend her mission leader rose unsteadily to her feet, right as that same man’s neck snapped, and silence reigned supreme. It was allowed to settle there, hanging on the hearts of the decimated operations team, until at last the Sith spoke again. “You are in command now, Fixer 33.”

The woman took a deep breath, and moved to stand at attention with the rest of her men. “Y-Yes, my lord. What is your bidding?”

Lord Syn sat back in their throne, the aggression from before seemingly sated. The red shine sank back into the ocean of black. “Dispose of your dead, secure your equipment, and disperse back into the general populace. Take this time to reflect on the nature of loyalty, and await your activation signal.”

A closed fist pressed against an armored chest. “As you say.”

The throne slowly turned away from the screen, and the cloaked figure saw them no more. The transmission ended, and with that all light ceased save for the furious crackling of electricity, held firm between the fists of its master.

[Aiden]

Serra Drosa

Day 2 - 7:15 AM Nexus Time

Early mornings in Columbia were a time when its citizenry indulged in behavior which many other districts might consider to be a preparation for war. They would take a firearm to their sides, load the trunks with ammo, get into their gas guzzling metal vehicles and begin a mass exodus from their homes to set locations scattered across the region. Periodically a foreigner would be summarily executed for suspicious activity on the street, clearly a hostile militia response to perceived foreign agents. It was terrifying.

To a Columbian this was just a necessary part of their morning commute, and the non-citizen had that bullet coming for trying to mug them on the way to work.

It was otherwise a rather nice morning. It was on the chilly side, with traces of dawn’s dew clinging frostily to the grass and the coloring leaves of late autumn. The sun’s rays reflected off and gave the assortment of lawns and parks spread throughout the area a brilliant shine of their own. From above it was a pure visual, shorn of sound as a helicopter’s propeller blades drowned out all other concerns. Its passengers watched with pride and amusement as they passed over the sprawling grounds of Astoria High School, and took in the sight of the Girl’s Regional Tank Team in the final phase of their morning firing exercise.

To witness heavy armor bend trees beneath its weight, the impact of shells skimming over enemy turrets to strike a hill behind them, and the innocent enthusiasm of pubescent commanders standing to survey threats to the pride of their team and point their forces onward to victory - it was perhaps the purest expression of Columbian Excellence anyone could find off an actual battlefield. One young woman sat within the transport and observed through the window, surrounded on all sides by the combat-ready men and women of the Congressional Custodians. She idly tapped away at her tablet without looking, and smiled at the sight of the girls at play.

“Seeing them, enjoying their hard work, makes me wish I had gone to school down there with them.” The woman’s voice was rich with an aristocratic accent, and filled with a wistful longing. Her purple eyes belied her deep appreciation, and her Custodians politely restrained their expressions of amusement. Their face-concealing helmets made that simpler than it had any right to be. The effort distracted them from a subtle narrowing of their charge’s eyes as the transport turned along its designated route toward the capital.

“Wait, what’s that in the treeline?!” She suddenly cried out, pressing a finger against the bulletproof glass toward the woodland along the edge of the campus grounds. And there, as her Custodians turned, they witnessed something no patriotic Columbia ever wished to see - a horde of twisted creatures with limbs like vines and heads like pumpkins surging forth from the trees. The first of the students, in their tanks, were too close to turn their turrets in time to intercept. Their armored vehicle was overrun from the side before anyone could do anything about it.

Then as the others began to pull back, to turn their guns toward the invaders and splatter them with explosive ordinance, the big ones showed up. They were a quartet of monstrosities, enormous pumpkins hefted up on big metallic spider limbs. From their Jack-o-Lantern eyes and mouths more of the beasts from before spilled forth to attack the innocent students of the Girl’s Regional Tank Team. Normally, they should not have stood a chance against such heavy ordinance. But in the woods, at such close quarters, none of them could afford to fire on the enemy without risking real damage to one another as well. The girls were falling into disarray!

The purple-haired young woman in the transport turned to her people with harsh eyes, all but trembling in what had to be rage. “Radio this in. Find a place to set down and deploy.” But one of her guardians shook his head, and insisted, “Ma’am, our job is to protect you, not go into battle at a moment’s notice!”

“Then I’ll deploy myself, and you will just have to follow along after me, won’t you?” The congresswoman pulled a high caliber pistol out of her purse, checked it, and made her point as she loaded the ammunition in. Then she turned her eyes to the largest man in the helicopter, and dared him to try to contradict her like the others had.

[MissingMandible]

Frank Horrigan:

The armored giant stared back at his charge, disapproval radiating from his being. Sentimentality is a catastrophic handicap for individuals in high places, especially those who lack in physical ability in situations like this. Alas, she was still his superior, and orders are orders.

"Check your gear and prepare for combat," his baritone voice ordered over the comms, "Pilot, drop us down. Don't land, and immediately ascend after we disembark. You are our only ticket out of here if things turn south.

"Ma'am," he turned his attention back to Serra, "I will still advise you to stay in the chopper."

[Aiden]

Serra Drosa

The other Custodians, shaken out of their disbelief and internal conflict by the giant's grim commands, began doing standard checks on their guns and armor and readied themselves to disembark on the move. As for the congresswoman herself, she met the lambent stare of Frank Horrigan without flinching, her eyes filled with an unshakable focus evident even through the slight coloration of his Heads Up Display. "Your recommendation will be taken into consideration, Special Agent Horrigan." She extended a hand to the Custodian next to her. "Agent Mattern, I'm going to need a bigger gun."

The agent seemed taken aback just from his posture. "M-Ma'am, I'm going to defer to Agent Horrigan on this-"

Motion abruptly became more obvious to them as the transport veered away from something big swiping through the air just past its previous location. The pilot hurried to bring them out of the line of fire and to a proper drop zone, as ordered.

"And so you shall." Serra was relatively unphased and supporting herself with a firm one-handed grip on one of the bars overhead. She held her pistol facing down, finger well clear of the trigger. "But I will need better range if I am to provide fire support from above, will I not? Hand me a bigger gun."

Everyone else went about their business quickly in preparation. Agent Mattern got her a bigger gun.

[MissingMandible]

Frank Horrigan:

Frank had to give the pilot his credit - dodging that vine limb was not an easy feat, and certainly displayed tactical awareness. But that only brought forward a problem - an LZ had to be cleared in order for them to disembark. The giant of a man grasped the door handle of the chopper, swiftly sliding it open. This action, of course, earned him the confused looks from his compatriots. After all, they were still too high up to jump out, and lacked tethers to slide down. "I will clear us a landing zone," the meta human said while squeezing his massive frame through the confined space of the vehicle.

Then he leapt.

Horrigan ignored his squad calling after him as he made landfall. Placing his armored feet under him, he crashed down right on top of one of the invading jack-o-lanterns, smashing it to bits. One down, hundreds more to go. His ancestral sword sprung out of its armored sheath while he leveled his minigun onto the nearest cluster of rampaging  squashes.

Brrrrrrrrzzzzzzzzz

[Aiden]

Astoria High School

A dozen of the foul monsters, and one of the nearby tanks, stopped abruptly in their tracks first as what they thought was a projectile dropped down from above. Then the bullets started pouring forth like a hurricane, and the creatures began scattering around in an attempt to flank him. By the time they caught on enough to do this the massive super soldier had already managed to cut down their numbers in their area by a quarter just because they'd clustered too close together.

Horrigan could pick up the radio chatter through his helmet on one of the frequencies used by the girls' tank team.

:: Air support?! ::
:: No, it's just one guy! ::
:: He's huge! ::
:: Don't just gawk, get moving! Back toward the courtyard! ::

However, there was a slight problem - one of the girls' tanks had lost its tracks, and it was even now being swarmed over by a dozen of the beasts trying to burrow their way inside!

:: Don't just leave us here! ::

Off in the other direction, one of the handful of larger pumpkins which served as a carrier began to dig itself into the hillside, rapidly spreading its vines through the ground and mixing with the roots of the trees. The trees began to rapidly turn grey, their leaves withering. A sinister red light began to shine from the pumpkin's hollow face.

[MissingMandible]

Frank Horrigan:

The Special Agent kept firing his minigun, sweeping in wide arcs. Any of the smaller pumpkins caught in his cross hairs weren't only turned to pulp, but a fine purée by the hose of bullets. However, a few managed to make the flank...

Frank was nonplussed. With his right hand, he just unhooked a plasma bomb, primed it, and chucked it right at them, all the while maintaining fire at the others. A bright flash of green erupted just to his right, followed by a splattering of squash on his armor confirming multiple kills with the explosive. The highschoolers, in the mean time, were using this as an opportunity to pull out - their Shermans making their way eastwards just as one of the colossal pumpkins drove into the earth nearby. To be perfectly honest, He would have appreciated their firepower in this fight, but they were civilians. He had no jurisdiction over them. But the one in front of him that had its tracks blown off is not in a position to say no to his orders. Yes, that could work.

The super mutant...liberated them from their captors with a spray from his minigun, bullets bouncing off harmlessly on the hull yet splattering the jack-o-lanterns. "You there in the FUBAR'd tank," He reached out to them over the radio, turning the gatling gun back to the skittering masses - barrels finally starting tot urn orange from the friction, "Fire on that big one. It's up to something."

Now if only that helicopter would land with his backup...

[Aiden]

Astoria High School

He saw the main cannon already turning toward the general direction of the big pumpkin, which was only one of four such beasts. With the amount of ground they had to cover it was clear they had their work cut out for them to get rid of the rest of the beasts. On the plus side, there was a hint of static over the line of communication that only momentarily prevented it came through soon enough in his ear.

:: -eck, check? Okay, right. T-Thanks for the assist, sir! If you can keep them off we'll try to line up a shot! ::

The sound of the transport helicopter coming down for a deployment was soon accompanied by more radio confirmation. "Take up positions!" The entire squad, two of them with assault weapons with attached grenade launchers, one larger man in armor with a light machine gun, and another with a rocket launcher over their shoulder. They immediately moved to a defensive position around the isolated tank while the transport made its way back into the sky. Covering fire was not long in coming.

The rapport of short bursts coming from the other side of the aircraft announced the destruction of another pair of pumpkin monsters who had given up the chase, lucky stragglers who'd been missed by the grenade earlier.

And even that was drowned out by what looked to be an almost professional amount of fire discipline on the part of the stranded tank crew as first one, then two shells impacted against the hilly treeline, halting the spread of whatever grey malaise the pumpkin was spreading. The growth of its ominous glow ceased. A rocket from Horrigan's fire team made for three.

[MissingMandible]

Frank Horrigan

Brrrrrrrrzzzzz - Pfffff

Frank had no choice but to stop firing - magically reinforced as it was, it still overheated over time. Right now, the end of the barrel was glowing an angry orange and steaming. It might even need some repairing post-mission, Frank noted.

Ahead, the giant carrier pumpkins loomed, center one still glowing red. "Those big ones keep bringing in more, they need to go now," the greenskin said over the comms, "Tank crew, focus fire on the left most. Grenadiers, center right. Rocket Launcher, right most."

The super magus unhooked a large, football-shaped object from a homebrewed holster. A mini nuke. "I got the Red One."

[Aiden]

Astoria High School

:: Roger Roger! ::

"Let's go, move it up!"

It was a timely set of orders, for the other pumpkins arrayed around the central carrier had begun to burrow their tendrils into the ground as well. The grass threatened to turn grey, and a softer orange light began to shine from within. Then the tank shells began again, first striking down the trees around their intended target, collapsing their great weight upon it and causing a deep rumbling roar to shake the ground. The third shot hit home, into one of the eye sockets, and blasted a hole clear through the back of it. Its light went out like a fire dowsed by a flood.

Drosa's Custodial escort were not idle in this time, alternating with great discipline between controlled bursts of bullets to manage the sporadic outpouring of smaller pumpkin monsters, and grenade fire in an attempt to blast out their target's attempts to root into the ground. The light machine gun took the pressure off from the third target's production capabilities for the time being, and the rocket launcher managed two rounds which gouged out enormous chunks of the final side carrier's flanks.

The one in the center squatted malevolently, its crimson glare intensifying with every passing moment. As Horrigan prepared his ace in the hole its tendrils reached the remains of its cohorts and began to entangle them, to drag them closer as their structural integrity failed, preparing for something.

A spray of fire from the transport helicopter above drew its attention even if the shots went after pumpkins on the opposite side of the field, heading toward the school, and it brought one of its free vines about in another attempt to smack it out of the sky.

[MissingMandible]

Frank Horrigan

The mini nuke was created in a time where science was married to warfare. Developed for use by the US Military, it brought the power of the atom to the hands of mere infantry. Its sole purpose was the complete obliteration of Chinese Coomunist detachments and erasing whatever fortifications they built up. Normally, this high grade explosive is launched from a shoulder-mounted catapult. Special Agent Horrigan has no need to a catapult.

The super mutant soldier ran forward like a football player of old, only to come to an abrupt halt and threw the mini nuke overhand. Though vines shot up in front of the giant squash, it was doomed - a sudden fireball engulfed not only the vines, but the face as well. Searing heat the same temperature as the sun engulfed the localized environment, flash frying the vines and the smaller pumpkins on the ground just below. This was followed by a concussive blast that pulped the attacking plants further out, as well as further shattering the shell of the king pumpkin.

All this happened in less than a second after impact...

A mushroom cloud enveloped the scene, temporarily hiding the carnage that was wrought.

[Aiden]

Astoria High School

:: What the-?! ::

The small amounts of electromagnetic interference cut the transmission for a precious few moments. Anyone with the misfortune to look directly into the explosion found themselves blinded, the intensity of the light searing its way into their retina. For everyone else it was merely a moment's aversion of the eyes, and when they turned back they saw nothing but ruin. A smoking crater where not even squash remained was all science left behind.

From up in the skies a heavily armed politician looked on with a bright smile on her face. "Oh, it's beautiful..."

One of the other Custodians, after a long moment of silence, checked in. "Campus security reports inbound. Check the perimeter and prepare to cede the field."

Comm chatter resumed as though a breath had been released.

:: We did it! ::

[MissingMandible]

Frank Horrigan:

"Alright, fan out and secure the parameter," Frank ordered through the comms, "If a pumpkin looks intact or a vine twitches, smash it. When in doubt, double tap."

He turned his gaze to the immobilized school tank. He was actually impressed at how calm they were through the whole ordeal, especially when their vehicle was surrounded by the enemy. Maybe there was something to the whole Tankwando School program? "You lot in the tank did good," He threw them a bone, "Kept your cool under pressure and exceeded my expectations. Columbia's in good hands."

[Aiden]

Astoria High School

"SIR!" The soldiers saluted, and moved out in their squad to follow Special Agent Horrigan's orders. Meanwhile, a pair of APCs came rolling up from the direction of what had to be the school's motorpool - along with approximately half of the tanks which had fled back to campus earlier. They moved in mechanized wolf packs to begin sweeping around the sides.

One of the students rose up from the turret of her armored vehicle, helmet in place, and grinned with a big bright blush on her face and her fist up in the air. "Thank you, sir! Jaguar Team did its best!" And then, trembling for a moment, she clenched her hands into fists and leaned in, while another of her fellow teammates squeezed up past her to get a better look at Frank Horrigan. "That was so cool, sir!"

Through the visual enhancement features of his helmet's HUD the enormous super soldier was even able to spot campus security forces on top of the roof of the school in position with rifles.