paradisalost | here we are again ... [closed]

Entry tags:

here we are again ... [closed]

Who:

wearethemeta
What: Someone jumps, and someone gets jumped on.
When: Today
Where: Outside Stark's Garage
Rating: PG-13 for violence (and probably language)

Although the castle and its residents had proven interesting distractions for some time, the fact that Delta was here and still not with him never quite left him, and the desire to take him was only just a push away from desperate.

And desperate he'd become.

York had proven elusive much in the past, between remaining in the Tardis, but eventually even he had to break routine. Meta had taken to keeping a close watch, trying to memorize his habits and anticipate where he might get that one little bit of an advantage. When the leaves had first appeared, and he'd heard the reminiscent rumble of Warthog engine, he knew there was one place he hadn't kept as close a watch on as he could have.

So recently, he'd decided to spend some time camped out on Stark's garage, hoping to hear that familiar rumble of the Warthog again. If it was York, he'd get his moment. If not, he'd get some stress relief. Either way, it seemed to be a win win situation for him..

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It wasn't that York was being careless, not by any means. He guarded his movements and always made sure he was either within range of backup or in a safe place. The only weakness in this plan was getting from point A to point B - and in a Warthog, he outweighed and outgunned a damn lot of people. Delta had also kept his motion tracker active at all times, but that wasn't as useful as it could be when someone was motionless.

All in all, he wasn't expecting any trouble while he was still driving.

As effective as York's plans had been, over time it was only inevitable that Meta would find what little weakness there was. He tenses as he hears the engine start, just barely able to hold onto the importance of keeping still before the most opportune moment.

He growls in anticipation, and as soon as he sees York leave the garage, he launches himself at it.

York reflected on how nice the crisp fall weather was, even if he had to drive through all the leaves. The Warthog was an all-terrain vehicle, after all, and it could handle the deep piles, muddy ground, Freelancers flying through the air at him--

--Wait, what?

"Son of a bitch!"

He slammed on the brakes, but an object in motion will continue its motion....

Meta grabs onto the windshield and uses his momentum to pound his legs onto the hood, immediately causing the front end to buckle and slam into the ground as the back end continues in a more upwardly-angle.

Meta tilts his helmet at York with a low, rumbling growl. Now ...

Now? No. Not now. Now is York flying out of the Jeep (no seat belts) and barely managing to figure out what's going on. Delta, however, is much faster and activates Tony Stark's backup flight system, helping York stabilize and right himself before quickly landing him upright.

"Hell. Not you."

Dammit. He'd forgotten they had that shit.

It's a short movement to plant his feet on solid ground and use his grip on the warthog to hopefully toss it up in York's direction. It's not an easy maneuver, and he's strainign every muscle against the car, but right now it's his best bet.

And that was also about hte most appropriate answer he could give York.

York draws his gun and gets ready to fire, but then the Meta throws his car at him.

"What the fuck are you--goddammit!" Dodging dodging dodging. Maine had always been a strong guy, but this was just ridiculous. Going into a crouch-roll, he tosses a grenade - it'll probably miss, but he has to respond to the car the Meta just threw at him.

Meta's able to dodge the grenade easily enough, but that's just aggravating him more. Recovering, he rushes at York, pulling down his Brute Shot for a swing when he got close.

Because he wasn't going to get anything if he hesitated.

Nope nope nope all the nope. All of it. The Brute Shot grazes his shields, causing them to flare, but he books it to the other side of the Warthog for cover. Maybe he can get the turret to--no, wrong angle. Or at least use it for cover? Yes. Cover sounds like a good idea.

Cover and some fire. Covering fire. Yes.

At this point, Meta's like a bull at a bullfight -- there's the sound of the gunfire peppering his armor but he's pushing forward regardless, enraged at this point. He swings the Brute again at the Warthog, hoping to either slice it in half or move it out of the way.

York makes an "oof" noise as the Warthog is shoved back against him and decides this would be worth a little fuel expenditure--and the Meta's already seen his flying, so no need to hide it. He crouches and then leaps up, boots burning a bit as he boosts the jump to let himself land on the garage roof.

"Go away, fuckhead! Not winning any friends this way!"

Meta growls, then chucks his Brute Shot at the airborne-York. Damn you and your meddling boots! He's slowed from the injuries but he's still doggedly tracking York above him. He had to come down sometime.

Sometime.

York dodges, but not completely--the Brute Shot slams into him butt first, knocking him down a ways and taking out some more shields. Ow.

He recovered enough of his balance to send a few shots the Meta's way, though; as long as he could keep his distance, he had the advantage here. There was something else he could try, too. While the Meta was (hopefully) distracted by the shots, York reached into the tactical hard case Kat gave him for Christmas and pulled out a plasma pistol. If he could overcharge this - and hit the Meta with the shot - it would almost certainly take him down, especially after the shots he'd already taken.

Meta's distracted enough, trying to dodge but trying to keep within range. He's growling with aggravation, so close dammit ... he just had to get that bird out of the sky, and he was running out of things to throw and the strength to throw them.

Damn castle and its damn losses.

York, on the other hand, is thanking the castle for the Meta's loss. He's sure the big Freelancer would have found a rocket launcher by now, if it wasn't for that loss.

Okay, charging, charging...he only had a few shots, if he overloaded the battery like this, and despite many hours of practice York still had very little actual battle experience with plasma weapons. Whether this would work outside the realm of theory was anyone's guess.

Fortunately for York, Meta hasn't yet experienced just what an overloaded shot like that could do to his enhancements, and he's barrelling toward him with single-minded fury and no regard to the glowing green weapon.

If anything, it makes him more agitated becuase it reminds him of Delta.

The time for worrying is over, and York finds a strange calm enveloping him as he carefully aims the pistol and fires. Either it would work or it wouldn't, and he would sorry about it then.

As soon as he lets the shot loose, he jumps and rolls away to the side to dodge. Even if it did work, he still has several hundred pounds of Freelancer and armor headed directly toward him, and nobody wants to be in the way of that.

Meta comes to a grinding halt, arm in mid-swing.

Okay, that was rather misleading. He's still moving, but at an alarmingly slow pace; barely inhing forward to a point where it's hardly noticeable. York's overcharged shot had successully sgorted out Meta's temporal enhancement. As long as York didn't get near his fist he'd be fine.

And unlike Doc, York knows to stay the hell away. Or at least knows that distance is his friend. Too bad his easy getaway car is kind of smoking, or he'd just take that.

As it is? He fires a couple of magnum rounds while the Meta's slowed down. Killing him won't do any good, at least not after the two weeks are up, but if he can disable the Meta enough to capture him--the prisons will have a better chance of holding him, or at least so he hopes. York aims for the knees.

That snaps Meta's enhancements back, and he immediately crashes to the ground with a growl. It doesn't take him long to figure out what's happened, but even then -- and with his earlier wounds slowing him down -- he's still trying to drag his way towards York.

Well, York's glad to know that worked temporarily, at least, and keeps the magnum pointed at the Meta and the plasma pistol ready at his side, just in case.

"Stay right there, Meta, unless you want another taste of plasma."

Somehow, he has a feeling the Meta won't stop.

No, it doesn't stop Meta from his attempts, for as little as he can do. Pain is little to him, but even as he struggles to stand, he's simply unable to do so. York had been smart to hit such a vulnerable place, and Meta's right leg, already weakened from his battle against Washington and Rory over a year ago, is far worse off.

Still, his insanity clouding every other judgement, he struggles to get even one inch closer to Delta.

No dice, buddy. York switches back to the plasma pistol and begins charging it again. Maybe he can overload the Meta's systems fully with a second shot.

He jumps back a little to try to keep far away from the other Freelancer's crawl, aiming carefully and releasing the shot.

The shot trips Meta's systems again, this time causing the armor to lock up and fully stopping his progress.

All right. All right, very good. York doesn't want to take any chances, though, and Delta flashes on. If the Meta could move at all, this would be a signal for him to react--one that York hoped he couldn't ignore.

"D, confirm immobility."

"Complying. Agent Maine is in full armor lock. No vitals detected."

--Which didn't mean he was dead, of course, just that he was trapped.

"All right, asshole. You're coming down to a cell before we take you out of lock."

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here we are again ... [closed]

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