Brighton's Devastation, (Excalibur)

It was a Friday afternoon in the city of Brighton, five o’clock was just around the corner and the place was charged with energy. People prepared to get off work with those last fifteen minutes taking forever. Some were already hitting their local pubs to start the weekend. Everything was normal, safe. A gentle breeze flowed throughout the city, marking the coming of spring. The streets were bustling with people of all shapes and sizes, content to continue with their daily lives. The noises were common and familiar; cars, music, people chatting, all adding perfectly to the atmosphere. It was a Friday of endless possibilities, and then it wasn’t.

All at once the tides seem to come in, and water flooded the shore. There was an explosion and then another as buildings began to topple. The sense of the town began to change, still charged with energy; panic engulfed the once serene setting. People began running in all directions, stepping on each other to get out of the way of the progressing destruction. Putrid smells of smoke and flame filled the air. The ground shook as buildings cascaded downward onto the streets. The sounds of a bustling city had been replaced by sounds of demolition, fear, and those in pain.

Just as the helpless and scared began to emerge so too did the cities champions. Firefighters, medics, and police all rushed to the scene. They began to coordinate lockdowns, assist the injured, and attempt to stop the spread of devastation. It became apparent that the path of destruction was progressive, and police followed it to its source. Bullets rained at the creature, a mutant from the looks of things. Yet they seemed to have little effect. Quickly, the British emergency taskforce knew it stood little chance against the monster and stopping its reign of terror.

Who would save them now? They wondered. Who would be their heroes?

PsylockeTelepathic MutantGENERAL INFORMATIONName: Elli Brandon Braddock Age: 24 Race: Mutant Occupation: Model, S.T.R.I.K.E Agent, Charter PilotHometown: Maiden, EnglandMarital Status: SingleAffiliations: n/aAllies: n/a Enemies: n/aAttire: -- Notes: - - ROLEPLAYBrandon had arrived in Brighton that morning, at the request of a S.T.R.I.K.E. psychic. The precog had predicted that an event of great importance was about to take place within the city, and that Psylocke would play a major role in this event. Dressed in a jacket lined with Kevlar and packing a glock twenty-six handgun, Brandon was a little on edge. With his telepathy he reached out probing the city for anything of interest, anything that seemed wrong. He was unsure if he should be glad or upset that nothing seemed to catch his attention. Having walked around all day restless, Brandon decided to stop at a bistro for a late lunch. Before the bill had arrived, Psylocke was overcome by a massive wave of psychic distress. The next moment the building he was in suddenly exploded, as a being plowed right through it at an incredible speed. The structure of the two storey building had been compromised, and collapsed into itself. Moving with agility that he did not know he had, Brandon managed to jump though the shattered window of the restaurant onto the battered street before the debris could crush him.Standing there on that street, his mutant abilities activated. With his telepathy, Brandon could feel the people around him in pain, pleading to survive. He could feel others fading away, their thoughts being snuffed out into oblivion. For a moment it was too much and the telepath withdraw, remembering the feeling of his own lover’s death in his mind. A tear rolled down Psylocke’s cheek before he regained himself. He wanted nothing more than to help those around him, but Psylocke could hear the sound of rescue vehicles on their way, and the threat was getting further from his location with each passing moment.Following the path of destruction, Brandon tried with all his might to get a telepathic lock on whatever was causing such devastation. He could hear the creature’s thoughts, but they were made up of another language of which Psylocke was not familiar with. As he neared, Brandon drew his gun and said a little prayer. He hoped he would be enough, and that the precog had not sent the young psychic to his death. Gathering courage, Psylocke rounded the corner and prepared to see what he was up against. “Here goes nothing” he thought to himself.(Note: Namor's action's were deliberately kept vague as the player will dictate them from here on out)

Blake BrotherlandBirth Name: Blake Vincent BrotherlandAKA: Archon.Age: 25Race: MutantOccupation: COO (Chief Operations Officer) of US Branch of Brotherland Weapons Tech. Hometown: Chelsea, London, EnglandAffiliations: UnaffiliatedBlake had arrived in England roughly four days ago, a meeting of the shareholders, and since he was not only the COO of the US branch he was the son of the owner and Chairman of the Board he had high shares in the company. They had been a gift for him from his father, not because he was his son, but because of the number of amazing weapons that had come out of his mind, as well as the productivity rates of the US branch were higher than any of the others. So, as a treat he had booked himself into The Adastral Hotel in Brighton, well, Hove actually. That was three days ago.Leaving the hotel on the morning he decided to go for a drive, so, he hopped into his car, his special car, and drove down the main road by the sea front, with the hood off. Sitting there in his car, the wind blowing through his hair and calm expression even more so because of the fact his eyes were covered with sunglasses. However, the calm and relaxing three days would come to an abrupt end. A beep from his car, quite loud and fast, he tapped a couple of buttons before speaking, “AMI, this had better be good, I was actually starting to enjoy myself.” “Sir, there is a mass flux of psychic activity near you, from the readings, it’s him.”With the words it’s him, the calm cool and collect expression on Blake’s fact turned into one of annoyance, “I see, can you localise the area it is centred in?” “One moment… yes, downloading location to your on board navigation system.” He waited for a few seconds and looked at it before speaking again, “Thank you AMI, I will arrive there shortly, could you notify the local authorities that I will be arriving shortly.” “Yes Blake, as you say.” With that the communications cut off and Blake, with a few taps on the on board computer, raised the tops and set the auto-drive to engage. Whilst the car was driving itself, he tapped a few more buttons and automated machinery came out and placed his uniform on him.About five minutes later he arrived on the scene. He stepped out of the car and clicked the button on the keys, “Level 3 please.” With that the car vanished, well, camouflaged itself. Archon looked around at the scene and did not like what he saw, he tapped a few buttons on his suit and his Cammo engaged, time to do a little scouting. He had noticed the three storey building near him and with a run, leap and a jump he was on top of it. As he perched there he looked around, trying to make sense of the surroundings and what possible measure he could take to minimalize casualties and damage."Fear not the bomb, nor the bullet, fear the man who uses them."

Conventional wisdom might have told you that seeing the future was a great boon desired by all. Conventional wisdom is in fact stupid. Dee's divinations had warned him of the coming attack on the quaint seaside resort town, but in such a way that he knew it would be worse to prevent the attack entirely than to let it happen. He was reminded of Churchill's decision over the bombing of Coventry, how the short term suffering had to be endured for the long term goal. The problem with fore-knowledge was accountability. As Dee surveyed the chaos wracked Brighton, he knew that he was as responsible for it as if he was the one down there in person, for failing to prevent it. It was a feeling he knew well and had come to accept long ago.

Stood in the Mayor's office at Brighton Town Hall, Dee looked out of the window down to the seaside, where the conflict was unfolding. There was a STRIKE operative in play, an element coming in the form of a mutant, and then Dee himself would intervene when the time was right. Things had to occur in a certain order, go a certain way, in order to the desired outcome to manifest. Otherwise, the destruction of Brighton would be for nothing.

Yet for all his experience, this was the hardest part of any field operation for Dee - the waiting. Having all this power, yet having to restrain himself from vulgar use of it. Simply letting loose and wiping away the target from existence might solve the short term problem, but in the long-term... He put he a hand to his earpiece.

"Psylocke, this is D. Report."

Krom had been awake for two days. Its slumber interrupted by the destruction of the cavern that held the instrument of destruction. He was unaware of how long he had slept, nor did he truly care. As a golem his thoughts were quite limited. Krom had no wants or desires only a single purpose: the total destruction of the surface world. Reaching the nearest landmass had been a slow process for the monster, but with time it felt the water begin to recede, the oceans pull waning. With each step of it’s giant feet Krom moved onto the shoreline. For the first time in centuries the golem made of stone and crystal felt the sun on its body. Looking outwards at the city, a feeling of elation washed over the creature as he begun to fulfill his only purpose.

Standing 93 feet tall, Krom was a sight, for a moment pedestrians stood watching the giant captivated by curiosity. Then all at once he began his attack. Calling upon the powers of the Earth which sustained him, Krom concentrated his mystical geokinetic abilities behind him. All at once the waters began to rise as the Earth underneath it shook. This shaking resulted in a minor tidal wave that barreled toward the surface announcing the creature’s presence. Krom watched as humans and debris washed around swept within the pull of the tides. Then placing a massive foot forward, he began to walk using his powerful arms to crush and hurl things in his path. From its mouth Krom shot orange crystal shards, moving at high velocity towards escaping humans.

The creature headed aimlessly towards the heart of the city, where he met resistance in the form of police and firearms. The bullets riddled off the golem’s stone flesh and were nothing but a minor annoyance to the thing. Calling upon the mystical powers of the Earth once more, the creature caused the area to shake. The earthquake which struck from the center of the city was powerful enough to rattle buildings and cause mass destruction to roads. To Krom the humans who stood in his way were nothing but insects, and if this was the best they could muster they would be destroyed. Stepping forward again, the monster squashed a few police officers leaving a trail of bodies, while skewering others with its crystal projectiles. Everything was going according to the golem's plan.

(This is Krom, you can get more information on him at http://z13.invisionfree.com/Marvel_Sigma/i...304&st=30&#last please feel free to npc him)

Ororo Munroe

Storm

GENERAL INFORMATION AKA: Storm Age: 22 Race: Mutant Occupation: Nurse, Adventurer, Volunteer Hometown: Manhattan, New York Affiliations: -- CHARACTERISTICS Description: Powers: Weather Manipulation SIGNIFICANT PEOPLE Friends: -- Enemies/Rivals: --

ROLEPLAY

London was Ororo's home, one she tended to miss a lot, but she could not bring herself to stay or visit often. It was strange how in a place so large, with so many inhabitants, she could still run into the man who cheated on her and broke her heart. The degree of pain she felt whenever she laid eyes on Pietro Maximoff was enough to influence the weather in the worst way. So, as much as it hurt, Ororo never quite allowed herself to feel the full brunt of his transgression. To further quell her thoughts and feelings about the matter, to soothe her mind and soul, she frequently told herself that it simply wasn't meant to be. It wasn't a coincidence that she returned home that precise day, to arrive at Pietro's home that precise minute, only to catch him throwing everything away. All that they had shared, and all that had great meaning. If she was going to mend, distance was necessary, and living in Kenya had done her some good.

However, the scar of betrayal was very much present, and so when her mother asked her to escort Kenyan nurses to London, she was most reluctant. But she couldn't disappoint her mother, and most of all, she couldn't disappoint herself. Ororo knew how important it was to take the nurses to their destination. She wouldn't forgive herself if she allowed the weakness of one man to affect her to such an extent that she neglected or abandoned her causes and duties.

The week was long, but good. Better yet that she hadn't seen Pietro but she was able to connect with Jean at a pub for drinks and gossip. Then it was off to Brighton to visit a new hospital where half of the nurses in her entourage were going to work for a year or so to gain more experience. The same opportunity was offered to Ororo but she felt that she belonged in Kenya, and even if she had decided to stay, there was a children's hospital in London that she had always planned on working at when she settled down to be Mrs. Ororo Maximoff.

The bus taking Ororo back to her hotel in Brighton, jostled her awake. Sweeping, white tresses from her face, her first thought was that she'd arrived at her destination but a quick look out of the window told her that that wasn't the case. She settled in her seat, only to lunge forward. Bent at the waste, Ororo clutched at her heart and head. She hadn't been prepared for that jolt of awareness. Something was wrong, something unnatural pulled at the earth's strings and nature didn't like it. Ororo didn't like it either.

Righting herself, she slowly got up from her seat and moved into the aisle. Her colorful maxi dress flowed around her feet, which were slipped into a pair of slippers. Her neck was bound in what appeared to be a gold brace, which matched the pair that adorned her wrists. The ground begun to shake and so did the bus. Ororo held onto seats as she made her way to the front of the bus. Screams now accompanied the tremors.

"Can you see what is going on?" she asked the driver, but he only stammered as he fought to get his seat belt unbuckled. When he finally did so, he rushed out of the bus.

Ororo quickly followed, shouting for him to wait but he didn't look back. At that moment a large projectile crashed into the center of the bus. Ororo looked the other way and her mouth fell agape when she saw the creature some distance away. "What is that?" she whispered to herself. The road beneath her feet continued to tremble, then split and crack. Windows in nearby buildings begun to shatter. The chaos unfolding around her had distracted her that she almost didn't notice another crystal shard soaring in her direction.

Her eyes went white as she floated into the air, and with her arm extended and her fingers splayed, lightning ripped from a darkening sky to destroy the projectile. Ororo rose higher and higher until she could see the beast in its entirety and the destruction it was causing. The police were on site but their weapons weren't a match against the creature. Ororo was a mutant, empowered and capable. Every day more people like her were doing things to make the world a better or safer place. What kind of woman would she be if she turned around right now and left Brighton to the beast?

The decision was made when she propelled forward, towards the devastation.

Zane Marcus didn't know what was happening, but he didn't stop long enough to try and figure it out. He had only arrived in Brighton a few days before; what was originally meant to be a pit stop turned into a search for work, as his money had depleted faster than he had anticipated. This meant he had to find work, nothing fancy, but enough to fund his trip further. It wasn't an easy life, and if he had the choice, it certainly wouldn't be the kind of life that Zane would have picked. However, when your only options were this or being dissected on a table, the choice was pretty obvious.

At least, those are the options his mother gave him when he woke up strapped to a hospital bed and watched over by armed guards. He kept trying to figure it out, understand why this woman that he had loved and cared for would treat him so horribly when he needed her the most. Did she hate what he was? Did she some how blame him for what happened to his father? He didn't know, but it was the only question that mattered to him anymore. If you couldn't trust your own parents, who could you trust?

This was what had shaped the past two years of Zane's life; he learned a very painful lesson that day, one he wasn't willing to misstep on now. Human beings as a whole just couldn't be trusted the way he had once believed; in the end, everyone has an agenda, whether it is purely selfish reasons, or for the sake of others they care about, everyone will betray someone at some point. Zane just preferred it to not be him again, deciding very early on after he started running that people needed to be kept at arms length, unless he wanted to go through the pain of betrayal again.

Yet even so, there was something inside of Zane that kept him from being the selfish, self centered person life had recently taught him to be. Something inside of him from long before his mother's betrayal, something that made him run towards the waves as they pounded against the city. He pulled a man off of the ground, his leg injured by falling debris, though Zane was able to move him very quickly towards the nearest building. Zane wore cargo pants, a red t-shirt, and a hoodie (hood down). He looked back, the black sunglasses on his face hiding the look of horror in his eyes as he saw the wave getting closer. He realized that even if he made it inside the building, they would still be on the ground floor, right in it's path.

Without a second thought, Zane grabbed the man tightly with body arms, bent his knees down low, and leaped straight up into the air. The single jump carried them up to the second floor, crashing through the window and landing in a roll inside. Zane yelled for the man to run, which he promptly did, leaving Zane to slowly rise to his feet. Just then the wave hit, some of the water still managing to reach the second floor window, shoving Zane against a wall. He managed to force his way out of the room, and quickly rushed up the stairs to the roof.

Once he was on the roof, Zane could clearly see out into the ocean, and started to see something rising out of it. He knew this wasn't going to be good, and wondered if he shouldn't just run, get out of there like any other sensible person would. That struggle only lasted a couple seconds, however, and the next thing he knew he was sitting down on the rooftop, closing his eyes as he tossed aside his sunglasses. He took deep breaths, letting his anger, his fear, everything wash over him, re-opening his connection to the Negative Zone. After a few moments, blue, glowing lines formed just underneath the skin, all originating from the large blue glow at the center of his chest.

He let out a deep sigh, opening his eyes, revealing that they had the same bright glow as much of his body. He rose to his feet, looking out into the ocean again, just in time to see a large, rocky creature making it's way onto the beach. Zane would have been shocked, if he hadn't seen the horrible things he had being ripped through the N-Zone. He watched in horror as it 'spat out' large orange shards, impaling people with them. He saw the creature open it's mouth again, but this time he wasn't going to let it happen.

Zane ran to the ledge of the rooftop, leaping as far as he could, onto the next roof. He made his way from roof to roof, until he was close enough to the golem. He leaped through the air, and just as the creature was about to hurl more shards, Zane thrust both of his fists towards the creature's mouth. Two beams of brilliant blue light fired from his fists, slicing through the air and striking the creature right in the open mouth. Unfortunately for Zane, the creature merely seemed annoyed by this action. The creature reared back, and fired more shards directly at him. He quickly fired another pair of beams, this time in the direction he was falling, which propelled him backwards through the window of a building.

He hit the ground, groaning as thin trails of blood formed from shards of glass stuck in his skin. Before he could do anything about it, however, he looked up just in time to see more orange shards flying towards his building. He quickly sprinted towards the other end of the building, towards another window. This time, however, Zane created a small burst of force strong enough to blow out the window, before he leaped out. He leaped a little too hard, however, as his body slammed into, and consequently bounced off of the wall of the neighboring building, before hitting the ground. Zane slowly pulled himself off of the ground, already hurting like hell, but knew that if the thing was still looking for him, he was going to need to get out of there.

But when a giant rock monster is attacking a city, what safe place was there?

I'M JUST AFRAID OF BEING BOREDAs with a lot of rock bands, Dazzler was considerably bigger in Europe. For the last several weeks, they'd been on tour, opening for bigger, more successful bands at large concert halls, or booking good-sized clubs and bars. While most members of the audience only knew a few of their songs, some key countries, like Germany (which was renown for its taste in hard rock), knew most of the lyrics. Even with the language barrier. It was an intoxicating experience, and the band seemed to soak it up just as much as she did.After a lopsided, weaving tour across the mainland, Dazzler returned to England for three of their last shows on the continent, before they had to return to the states. First stop of the three was a city called Brighton, in a literally underground dive of a club. The holding capacity was about a thousand, though, and that's how many the club owners expected to have. Which was peachy-keen for Ali and the rest of the band.Having only pulled her ass up out of bed at around two in the afternoon, the next few hours were mostly routine. She moaned and groaned, despised the sunlight, and hated her past self. The past self of last night, that decided to party until god knew when, and get plastered while doing so. Then she dragged herself into the shower for far longer than she needed to, if only to wash away some of the hangover and grogginess. And then it was an attempt to hold down and get enough coffee into her system that she could speak in more than grunts.This took until about four o' clock.Then, realizing she was running late for rehearsal, she called up a taxi and was incredibly annoyed by the amount of traffic and the speed at which her driver insisted on going. After twenty-minutes of that, she was at the club, where all the instruments were set up, and they were ready to do a quick rehearsal before their show at nine that evening. The acoustics in the club were incredible, and just that thought helped to turn Alison Blaire's mood around.The blonde was also relieved to find that many other members of the band looked as though they were recovering from an all-night binge. No one had to bitch at her about being late... even if she deserved it. Clearing her throat and tuning the guitar beyond what the roadies had done earlier, they began to practice several of their songs through, ensuring that everything was set-up properly and ready to go when the time finally came.In time with an instrumental break (nothing but guitar shredding between Annette, the lead guitarist, and Alison, who also played guitar), a horrendous cracking noise came, and then a roar. A horrible roar. Only a few minutes from the beach, the underground club was subject to the wash of the tidal waves. A huge force of water smashed against the door, and the flood came in, whirling down the stairs, eager to fill up the cove. There was barely any time to react, barely any time to think before the water smashed against the stage. Electricity bloomed and charged out of the sockets, and Alison's brain suddenly kicked into overdrive. "Ditch it!" She shouted with a quick turn of her head to Annette, who was eager to grab her guitar. "Let's haul ass!" The water continued to fill, and it was a struggle to move against it. Getting up the stairs was downright impossible, no matter how hard any of them clung to the railing. "Fuck this!" Chaotic explosion of color began around her, bursting and popping like bubbles as her eyes shone white. The sound of the waves and the steady thump, thump, thump outside was more than enough to draw upon, and with a fling of her arm, brick shattered and vaporized over the bar, where a window had been. The space widened, and with several more gaps, was a giant, gaping hole. The flow of water was much slower here than through the narrow corridor of the door and entrance, and the band came rushing out.The streets around them were devastated. The wave swept up debris, shifted cars, and flooded houses with ease. And the thumping continued, loud and ominous, but it wasn't an earthquake. There were pauses in-between, and the pulse was too rhythmic. More color gathered around Alison as her chest rose and fell with deep breaths, gathering the sound into her. And then, she saw it. Over the horizon, and out from behind a building a truly massive creature stood. ... Shit! Most of the rest of her bandmates had enough brains to high-tail it in the opposite direction. Alison, however, didn't. A sense of... something overwhelmed her, spurring her onward. She didn't know what the hell that thing was, but she did know that it trashed her equipment and ruined a gig! There was another part of her, a compassionate, foolhardy, heroic part of her that was largely to blame as well, but she shoved that aside.Moving toward the giant as it moved toward her, distance was easily covered. Smoke filled her lungs--the destruction had lit some building a flame. Screams and thumbs and shattering sounds continued to pour into her, until her body was literally luminescent, glow of her flesh almost rivaling the white leather of her jumpsuit. Before she could get too close, she veered right, and then scaled a building, seeking to get at least a little more level with the creature before she did... whatever the hell it was that she was going to do. Some part of her kept screaming at her, swearing at her, calling her a fucking moron, but she could barely hear it now that the beast was so close. Her heart thundered in her chest, and then...Light. Light like a flash of lightning, light brighter than the sun came crashing from her hands, aiming for the creature's leg in an attempt to prevent it from moving. It seemed to land, and a score rose where she hit, but other than causing the creature some pain, it seemed primarily annoyed, shifting its attention from Zane for the moment.Shit, shit, shit! She needed to run. She needed to run now! Without even thinking about it, energy burst from the soles of her feet, and suddenly, she was being propelled upward by a trail of brilliant white light.What the hell?! This was new!TAG: Excalibur     WORDS: 1092     NOTES: I got carried away!

PsylockeTelepathic MutantGENERAL INFORMATIONName: Elli Brandon Braddock Age: 24 Race: Mutant Occupation: Model, S.T.R.I.K.E Agent, Charter PilotHometown: Maiden, EnglandMarital Status: SingleAffiliations: n/aAllies: n/a Enemies: n/aAttire: -- Notes: - - ROLEPLAYTurning the corner, the telepath unleashed a barrage of six shots into the creature’s underside with little to no effect. Without pausing the creature simply directed six crystal shards in Brandon’s direction, before continuing to concentrate on the floating mutants around it. Calling upon S.T.R.I.K.E. training the telepath attempted to leap for cover. Unfortunately, one of the shards was moving too fast. Without warning the projectile struck and deeply embedded into Brandon’s left arm just below the shoulder blade snapping his bone. Letting out a sudden cry of agony, the pain washed over Psylocke. “Damn!” he thought, “have to be quicker, can’t be hit again.” Instinctively, Brandon grabbed his arm shielding the wound and began to look for cover. Ducking behind the rubble of a building, the telepath received a transmission from the director of S.T.R.I.K.E., John Dee. Responding Psylocke said in a pained voice, “A giant rock creature has emerged from the ocean D, its causing major destruction in the Brighton area. The police forces are being massacred; so far all resistance has proved futile. All my telepathic scans are proving difficult to interpret, the creature does not think in a language I have ever encountered. The only word I can really comprehend is Krom, I think it’s this things name. Basically, I am in the dark as to its motive. All I can sense is its joy of destruction. Also multiple super humans have joined the fray. They seem to be fairing better than our current police force efforts. I suggest you evacuate the police and surrounding areas, and then bring in more fire power. Hopefully, the other super humans and I can buy you a little time.” While he had been talking to D, the telepath had ripped off a piece of his shirt and wrapped his bleeding left arm with the shard still embedded within. Before Psylocke could hear D’s reply the creature stumbled back, struck by a glowing blonde woman’s attack to his leg. As the creature began to move it became apparent to Brandon, that his hiding place was about to be crushed. Moving with a speed that he did not know he possessed, the telepath managed to get clear from the crushing impact of the creatures massive foot. Regaining his bounds, Psylocke noticed that much of the gunshots had ceased. The police were beginning their withdrawal, and he hoped the remaining super human’s would not follow suit.Reaching out with his mind, Brandon began to broadcast the following message, “To those of you left in the fray, listen to me. We must concentrate our fire. We know this monster can be hurt! It’s favoring its right leg after the blast it took. Perhaps if we concentrate our powers on its weakened leg we can bring it down, or at least buy the police some time to regroup.” Telepathically, Psylocke broadcasted an image of the spot that he thought would be appropriate. “I’ll distract it telepathically, the rest is up to you.”Pushing the limits of his psionic abilities, Psylocke began a mental assault on the creature. For only a moment, it stopped and let out a massive howl, it’s head on fire. To get the most direct shot, Brandon had run out into sight of the creature. And now Krom had a new target. Psylocke hoped that his plan would work because he did not feel like beginning a psychic pancake.

Blake perched there on the top of the building and what he saw he did not like. He judged the situations, planning the right moves and tactics. It took him a bit of time, well, for him anyways, he had never comes across something like this, and he was not sure if his weaponry would be of use. As he was perched there he not only came up with a suitable tactic, but decided he would have to invent some weapon or device just in case a situation like this ever came up again. He hoped it wouldn’t, but one could never be too careful.

With that he launched himself from building to building heading towards the titan. He was not one hundred percent sure it would work, the tactic he had come up with, but, even with Blake’s brain, he could not think of a tactic for every situations in the world. He finally reached a building near them and, uncloaked. He picked up with his smoke grenades. He threw it straight towards the beast’s head. When it reached a suitable distance he tapped a couple of buttons on his wrist and it exploded releasing a thick, and foul smelling smoke.

He nodded and drew his energy pistol and aimed, at the smoke. With a single shot hitting the smoke it exploded in a blast of flames making the beast scream as it seared its eyes and nose. However it did not slow him down for long and a blast of those orange crystals came at him. Blake managed to blast a few down, but he did not have enough time to take them all down and jumped off his building, but getting caught in the arm and leg, just. It did not do much damage to him, the suit absorbing most of it, but, as he landed he looked at a sign on his wrist saying the Octo-Cammo Tech has been damaged.

As Psylocke filled him in, Dee looked out over the devastation Krom was wreaking across Brighton. The United Kingdom lacked any official capacity to resist something of this magnitude and nature - even the army was ill-equipped to deal with gigantic stone-monsters of this sort. He chewed on his lower lip, the only outward sign of the tension within. This was a delicate situation. So many variables, so many possible permutations of how this could go. He had to make sure everything was just right, or else Brighton's devastation would serve no purpose. He was making note of everything that rose from Brighton to deal with Krom, then he would make his move.

Agamotto, if this information had come from anyone else... He didn't need to finish the thought. His patron never lied, it simply wasn't possible. Agamotto could not lie. That didn't mean he was obligated to tell you what you wanted to hear, or that you'd like what he told you. But this information, it could at least be taken at face value. For now.

Judging that the correct moment had come, Dee resumed contact with Braddock. "Psylocke, my research tells me this is a golem. Telepathic assault won't work, it barely has a mind to speak of. By the time you make a dent, or back-up gets there, it'll have smashed Brighton. You need to end this NOW. Telepathically co-ordinate with the other metas in the area. A unified attack to the head. Get on it!" Dee snapped down the line, then lowered his hand from the commlink in his ear and returning to the window. A golem. He knew how to handle golems. They were in his line of work.

Golems were, when you got very basic, magical robots. Somewhere built into them was a mystical artifact or writings that acted as a combination of central processor and programming. In the Kabbalistic tradition, the inscription was the name of god, placed on the creature's head. Destroy the inscription and the golem 'powered down'. And according to his information from Agamotto, they same would be true for this Atlantean golem.

He stood in the window looking over the coast and waited to see how this played out.