The X-Project

They arrive at the Doom Fortress II, and split up to reach the various elements needed to rescue their friends, with teams going for the security systems, power core, command computer and the Thermal Gigantinator itself.

Ororo's team reaches the security centre, but an angry god is waiting for them.



The lava tube was a smooth sided bore in the dark rock, and the walls vibrated slightly to the rumble of heavy machinery and drilling. Their access to the volcano was simple, as Zemo had put no obvious guards outside of his new Doom Fortress. Obviously he believed that the secrecy of its existence was security enough. However, inside it would be another matter, and the X-Men had decided to the first step was to compromise Zemo's own security system, so his devious and vicious traps couldn't be used against them.

Surveying the team she had with her - comprised this time of people who actually had experience fighting in the field, she realized with relief - Ororo gave a nod. "I do not want you to worry overmuch about stealth, right now. Let us concentrate on speed, instead. Mark, Wanda - please get us past that door." The thick metal door in front of them was locked, and until they destroyed the computer system controlling the entire security grid, was likely to stay that way. Unless certain force was applied.

Wanda tilted her head as she studied the door in front of them - it was a formidable door, well made and solid. But everything had their weak points, no matter how well made or how thick. It was just a matter of finding it. She spread her powers out, seeking for the weak spots, gently prodding and testing without actually trying to affect anything. A hex blast would take forever on a door that size and if she tried anything the other way, the best she could hope for was shorting out the door which was not what they were going for.

"Ahh, there we are," she said, turning to Mark. "The weakest part of the door is not quite in the middle but just two inches off to the side. Have at it."

Mark rubbed his hands together then donned his headphones. Without further hesitation, he released a golden blast and the busted door fell open in a shower of golden sparks. "Ladies first," he said, bowing to Ororo and Wanda, and slipped in after them.

Angelo was right behind him, glancing over his shoulder at Kyle. "Havin' fun?" he asked wryly.

"The guy I was supposed to bodyguard found the only cannibals in Indonesia, we still got our butts kicked, I got stabbed, and today I have a mega-wedgie. No, I am not having fun, dude." Kyle was in a word, cranky. The smell of burning metal from the door had only made it worse. At least he didn't have to worry about keeping quiet. Stealth was a lot harder when you wanted to complain about everything all at once.

"Alors," Batroc mused, tugging at the hem of his purple-and-gold jumpsuit. "Mon Dieu, somehow my fine Corinthian leather has become somewhat snug over the years. But it is no matter! Allons-y, mes braves!"

The double-bladed axe that came down in front of Ororo and Wanda was huge, the man wielding it equally as huge - very nearly as big as Cain Marko. "Retreat now, and I may let some of you live." He boomed, pulling the weapon out of the gouge it had left in the rocky floor. Skurge gave a disdainful look at the group, and lowered the faceplate on his helmet. "Or perhaps not. You have the stink of the Destroyer on you. Killing you will be most enjoyable."

Stepping back immediately - she was no match for this monster - Ororo tried to peer past him to the rest of the room. The large computer workstation was situated at the far end, unguarded save for the giant man and his axe. The Danger Room had plenty of scenarios just like this, getting from point A to point B around a hostile target... but it was always harder in the field, wasn't it?

Wanda had skipped backwards as well, sliding to the side a little as she eyed the brute. Getting around Skurge while he was still upright was probably going to prove problematic, at best. They needed to get him down or out of the way - she cursed and scrambled backwards even more as the axe swung in her direction. "Killing us will not be quite so easy," she said. She hoped, anyway, as she studied the lines frantically.

"Whose bright idea was it to bring me as the only energy projector?" Mark sighed. He fired off a blast at Skurge, and when it barely fazed him, stepped back and fired again. "Fuck."

Batroc took a deep breath, then glanced upwards. "Mes amis, I must depart for a brief moment." He squatted, flexing his legs briefly, then leaped straight up into the air, fingers catching on the edge of a barely-visible fissure and wriggling into it and out of sight amidst the dark volcanic rock.

Having moved far enough away from the others on the team that they would be safe from stray bolts, Ororo channeled the electricity in the room, aiming several crackling bolts at the hulking man. They didn't seem to have much effect, so she pulled harder, sending a thick bolt that would've knocked a normal human unconscious straight at his chest.

It didn't knock him unconscious, of course, but it did seem to knock him back for a moment. Angelo seized his chance and leaped forward, grabbing the man's shoulders and hauling himself straight up. His next move was to wrap a sheet of skin around the helmet.

Skurge just laughed, planted his feet and took one hand off his axe. He reached up and pried the layers of skin away from his faceplate, gauntlets digging deep into Angelo's flesh. Once loose, he gave a shake and removed his helmet, throwing it to the ground. "I overestimated you. My Lady told me that you mortals might actually pose a challenge. All you are doing is delaying the inevitable!" He looked down at the tendrils of skin still hanging limply from his shoulders and gave an evil chuckle. "The Bloodaxe has yet never been used to skin beast, nor man, but there is a first for everything!"

It was obvious to Kyle that the big blond Viking warrior was playing with them. They certainly weren't going to overpower him, that was sure. But maybe Angelo had the right idea, he thought, and took a flying leap over the axe and landing atop Skurge's shoulders, wrapping both arms around his eyes.

The big Asgardian laughed again, and swung his head back. "I see! You wish to even the odds by blinding me! True, it would be more honorable, but you deserve no honor!" Once again he reached up, plucking Kyle off his head and throwing him across the room.

There was probably very little she could do to Skurge himself but the walls, floor and ceiling were a different matter all together. Weak spots littered here and there, calling out to Wanda and she reached for them...but the soft red light around her hands glinted off of the armor the Asgardian wore and she cursed when he spun towards her. The huge axe swung in an arced follow through that left no time to get out of the way.

A seconds play of power was all the time she had in an attempt not to get cut in half. Skurge's arm wavered for a split second, the grip on the axe loosening enough so that the heavy weapon's sharp edge turned downward. Instead of being cleaved in half, the flat part of the axe caught Wanda in the stomach, lifting her off her feet and then through the air from the momentum.

Taking advantage of the instant distraction, Mark ran past Skurge and headed for the computer console. The glow of plasma around his hands dimmed, replace a second later by the crackle of electricity. He placed a hand on a keyboard and concentrated. It didn't take an engineer to predict what would happen next. Mark could feel the security system shutting down as he overloaded the console. He just smiled.

Distracted by the flashes of light, Skurge turned - only to be met by two booted feet dropping from the ceiling as Batroc sprang from the shadows. "Voici!" he shouted, "I have gained the element of surprise, non?" A few quick jabs to Skurge's chin surprised the Asgardian executioner, who recovered quickly, swinging the massive Bloodaxe in a deadly arc.

Or rather, one that would have been deadly had it connected. With agility seemingly beyond his years, Batroc almost casually hopped into the air, standing on the flat of the Bloodaxe's blade and balancing on one foot, before delivering a swift roundhouse kick to Skurge's temple with the other. "Coup de pied! Clumsy oaf, you move like a pregnant ox! Your brute force is nothing compared to a master of le savate!"

"Insect! Vermin! You will pay for this!" Skurge yelled, swinging the axe at the strange man, who simply leapt over him, landing behind him. Skurge turned, bellowing, only to find Batroc not there, but behind him again. "You -dare- mock the Executioner? You will taste my blade! Stand your ground like a man!" He roared, swinging the axe wildly and taking out large chips of the hardened lava floor.

On the other side of the room, Wanda rolled herself back onto her feet with a groan, gripping the wall to keep herself up right as she shook her head. She glanced over at Batroc and Skurge duking it out and decided to leave it to them. Instead, she inched around until she was clear of swinging axes, limbs and brightly colored costumes; once free, she leveled a blast at the computer console with unholy glee. A front section of the computer simply blew up from a combination of being hexed and from Mark's efforts, metal bits hitting the ceiling with a loud clang.

Angelo was on the floor behind Skurge, vaguely dazed from having been dropped but still with it enough to act. He lunged forward, ten thick strands of skin hooking around the big man's ankles and yanking. A half second after him, Kyle came charging into the Asgardian, striking him with a leaping tackle to the back of Skurge's knees.

Thrown completely off balance, the big man toppled and fell, throwing his arms out to break the fall and losing grip of the giant axe. It slid across the floor, striking and denting the side of one of the consoles. Skurge gave a wail, more like the sound of a child who had lost his favorite toy then that of a warrior losing his preferred weapon.

Whatever Mark and Wanda missed, Ororo made sure that the computer was completely done for with a combination of rain and lightning, showering the console with a flurry of water and electricity. The room was alight with sparks and flashing lights; the glint off of Skurge's axe mixed with the bright bursts from the computer and the glow of Mark's powers.

Leaving the wreckage of the machine behind, Wanda moved and placed her foot on the handle of the axe. Red light flashed darkly around her hands and she pointed at the axe. "You want this in one piece?" she asked mildly. "I suppose that's doable once we get out of here ourselves. Before you leave, of course."

Wisdom and Nate's team reach the power core, only to find a man who is one all on his own.



The lava tube they were following bit deep into the earth; a sharp slope down into the bowels of the volcano. The heat was noticiable, but it wasn't from any natural source. The walls dripped with condensation, and every few minutes, a plume of steam would vent up the tube, forcing those not invulnerable to protect their faces from getting scalded. According to the plans they had, this route should lead to the main reactor core of the Doom Fortress. By destroying it, and forcing Zemo's base on back-up generators, he'd lose much of his destructive power, and give the other teams a chance to rescue their people.

Go blow shit up, Nathan. Don't mind that that it's probably radioactive, Nathan thought sourly, trying not to let his edginess leak as he checked the telepathic switchboard. "I can't tell what we're walking into," he said under his breath. "There's someone down there, but I can't tell who. Too much noise."

Pete looked round with a wry look on his face. "Of course there is. It'd be too much to hope that we actually had drawn the easy job. It's definitely a 'who' and not a 'what', right? I mean, with this bunch of mental fucks it could be some kind of experiment gone wrong, and we're going to find giant angry mutant badgers on guard..." He shrugged.

"OK, so that puts Cain and St Croix up at the front, just in case, of well, who or whatever it is. Still with all this fucking noise and steam, we could could be herding a fucking elephant down here and it'd still count as a sneak attack. Anyone got any clever plans apart from get down there, and terminally hinder whatever we find as fast as possible?"

Cain frowned, instinctively rubbing the bandages on his shoulder and thigh that were still wet with blood. "I'm telling you straight up, if it's that fucker with the axe, I don't give a good goddamn about what's radioactive or not. Motherfucker cut me, and he's going down."

Nathan shot him a brief, narrow-eyed look. "See if you can't give me a chance to get a good look at the place once we get down there," he said - to all of them, not just Cain. "I can't promise I'll be able to tell at a glance if something would be best buried in several tons of rock rather than smashed up close and personal, but I'll give it a shot. And if we do have company, you can focus on smashing them first."

"Just as long as it's not fucking Beauchamp Junior again. I'm starting to feel the same way about men with swords as Marko does about axes." Pete glanced at his wristwatch. "OK, if everything's going to plan, the rest of them should be making plenty of noise elsewhere by now. Let's pick up the pace, boys and girls..."

Monet stepped to one side as the tunnel came to an end, standing in front of Tabitha. Just in case. Breathing deeply, she watched as workmen did .... things to the machinery inside the base.

"This feels like an episode of Scooby Doo," Tabitha muttered as she ducked behind the invulnerable Australian. With furtive looks around Monet's side, she tried to catch a glimpse of the person in the middle of all that mess. "What do you think, Shosty?"

Mostly Alexei thought that he was definitely going to shoot the mouthy bitch the next time she called him 'Shosty.' He held his peace, however, conserving strength. Old. He was getting old. There was time none of this would even phase him and now... Now he was getting old. His breathing was getting ragged, and there was a cold stone somewhere in his chest, pressing down on his heart, heavier and heavier...

His left arm jerked suddenly of its own volition and glanced at it, puzzled. And then the pain began.

Somebody was shouting for help in a hissing whisper but all seemed suddenly so distant. He felt the floor underneath, unable to remember when he fell. His right hand was over his heart, squeezing at the fatigues in a futile reflex.

What a stupid way to go... Like his country he was going die here, stupidly, ingloriously, just another old relic discarded by Modernity that no longer needed his hokey services. Shostakov chuckled suddenly or tried to. At least he was going to croak on good firm land. His vision blurred and he could not make out the face looming above him; somebody was hammering his chest with fists, a chilly feel of the needle's stab... None of it seemed important anymore.

What a stupid way to go...

Fucking Kane. He killed me after all.

"Fucking Limey...."

#Lovely. Fucking lovely!# Nathan snarled down the switchboard as he gave up on CPR. Shostakov's brain activity was unraveling in that particular, final sort of way, and he cut that link on the switchboard, not particularly wanting to experience the old man's death quite that up close and personal. He pushed himself back to his feet, well aware that his temper was getting ahead of him but not particularly caring. #Anyone else wants to croak, do it on your own time!#

He pushed past Monet and Tabitha, out into the open. Workmen and some armed guards started to shout, alarmed, but Nathan's exoskeleton flashed into life and he was in the air an instant later. There wasn't a lot of manuevering room in here, but that was fine. Great glowing claws tore at machinery, fiery wings smashing through anything in their way every time they beat. He wrenched a particularly large chunk of pipe away from the rock and threw it at a handful of guards trying to set up some sort of impromptu firing line.

#So what are the REST of you waiting for?#

Cain gave Shostakov's body the briefest of glances before sprinting forward past Nathan. "St. Croix!" he bellowed, "Get your ass up here and start drawing some fire off the squishies! If you see something that looks expensive, break it!" He turned his head slightly as a barrage of bullets ricocheted off his skin harmlessly. "Guns. Guns I can deal with," he mused while ripping up a section of the floor and shaking it like a dusty carpet, sending a wave across the ground to topple the line of shooters like tenpins.

Monet looked around wildly for a moment - everything looked fucking expensive here because hello, nuclear reactor. Settling on a bank of computers, she flew across the room toward them and the technicians working on them. Pushing the technicians aside, she began kicking out at the computers, smashing them in a cloud of sparks.

Gunfire bouncing off his exoskeleton, Nathan flew directly at the ceiling immediately above the reactor. He smashed into it with enough force to shake the entire chamber, knocking nearly everyone off their feet - teammates included. Large chunks of fractured rock started to rain down onto the reactor as he crashed into the ceiling again and again. He applied himself to burying the reactor with the sort of single-minded destructiveness he rarely if ever got to indulge in these days.

A brilliant and blinding light projected itself through the reactor as Radioactive Man made his presence known. He stepped forward; a giant shadow in the tunnel of light. Standing close to the reactor's core, he'd managed to absorb a good amount of radiation and was working to convert it to physical strength. He was no longer a man but a monster. He could feel the power filling him so completely. He was unstoppable.

"You are doomed, X-Men!" He leaned forward and released lethal amounts of radiation in concentrated blasts, sending it forward toward each of the uniformed men and women; left, right and center, each ball of energy designed for one purpose and one purpose only - to destroy. There was no stopping him now.

Tabitha yelped as she barely dodged the lethal energy. She rolled across the floor and slammed shoulder-first into a wall. She shook her head violently, heart racing. With a twist and a wiggle, she took cover behind something heavy-looking. Hands inches apart, she made a tiny bomb and shoved it into a crevice. She shuffled along, low to the ground, repeating the action and leaving many bombs just waiting for her cue.

Nathan sensed, rather than saw the attack, and flung himself away from the ceiling and out of the way, collapsing his exoskeleton as he landed safely. His telekinesis freed for other purposes, he checked to make sure none of his teammates were in the way and then resorted to something he really shouldn't be doing under these circumstances - telekinetic groundbursts were not for close quarters and unstable environments, but they needed to try and put this bastard down for the count, now. He was just too dangerous, and I am not losing anyone else... The groundburst tore through everything in its path in a blinding golden flash, creating a fairly respectable crater with the spot where the Radioactive Man was standing more or less at its center.

The groundburst slammed Radioactive straight into a wall and he would've gone through it if he hadn't hit the metal structure beyond the wall and fell to his knees. Yet again, it looked as if he was going to be defeated. Zemo's plan had obviously failed but if the Radioactive Man was going to lose, he was going to take the X-Men down with him. From where he'd fallen, crouched, low on the ground, Radioactive Man released the forcefield surrounding his entire frame and stood up to his full height, projecting blinding light, heat and hard radiation from his body. His intention was obvious. Destruction. Chaos. Death. He would have that. He would not be defeated.

The ball of energy surrounding him grew in its size but a sudden explosion to his right caused him to stumble back, scattering the energies every which way, destroying everything in its path. The structure enclosing the reactor with its reinforced concrete and steel began to collapse.

Continuing the fight was, all at once, not the priority. Especially since the objective had been accomplished. #BACK UP THE LAVA TUBE!# Nathan projected at the top of his mental lungs. #NOW!#

X-Force reaches the main computer, but faces the Melter and his men in the way.



The lava tube they had used to access the Fortress had turned out to be a part of the ventilation system; a shortcut taken by the crew building the Fortress, which would prove costly as the X-Force team stalked along it. They'd drawn one of the more delicate missions, getting into the control centre for the entire Doom Fortress and shutting it down. Doug's computer skills were vital since no one could guess what ancient computer language that Zemo might have used to program his systems. They needed to deliver him there alive, and using the vents provided a quiet access to the area, especially once Ororo's team brought down the main security computer.

The close confines and rocky walls just seemed to encourage quiet - at least for Marie-Ange. She'd barely said anything, answering questions in hushed tones and one-word replies. In the glow of hand-held lights, the imaged goblin she'd made to walk ahead of them to check for traps was a sickly yellow instead of the cream and grey of the paper and pencil it had been drawn on. It walked ahead of them, pacing the tunnel in a diagonal manner, only stopping when Marie-Ange or the group did.

As much as the tension had Doug wanting to crack a joke or engage in inane conversation, he did his best to move as silently as the rest of the team. He channeled his nervousness into a habitual checking and rechecking of the pack containing his essential computer equipment instead. He grunted as he nearly tripped over a small outcropping of igneous rock, then righted himself and continued forward.

Montoya followed the silent goblin, a smile crossing his lips. This adventure was bringing back memories of the last time he had fought Zemo and his men. Although this time there was a distinct lack of helicopter crashes and armies of killer robots. Then again, perhaps there was something to be said for subtlety.

A hench man ducked behind a rock and rolled out five flash grenades towards the group's feet. Three men stepped forward around the bend, followed up by two more and crouched down, not bothering to take aim but fingers pulled over the triggers to open fire.

"Looks like we've been found out." Remy said dryly, and the team scattered. In the enclosed space, the flashbangs made a frighteningly loud eruption, which would have blinded and deafened them if it wasn't for both Betsy and Sofia. The wall of sound was literally buffeted back towards the guards, and Betsy's last minute tickle of their optic nerve receptors in the brain prevented the dazzling light from disorienting them, although black spots swam in their vision. The Cajun unsnapped his staff and gave them a grim smile.

"I've always enjoyed hurting the hired help." Remy said, and sprung forward, somersaulting into the midst of them, using his spatial sense to make up for his restricted sight. One went down immediately from a blow to the throat, and the other as the whirling staff shattered his eye visor and nearly snapped his neck.

Montoya, however, had trained with blind Japanese swordmasters in his day. Of course, his day was decades ago, but the skills remained the same. Closing his eyes tightly against the flashes, he lunged forward and skewered a guard neatly through the thigh, whipping his blade around and listening for the next creak of tacky polyester uniforms. Another series of leaps and slashes, and the sound of falling bodies could be heard through the tunnel. "Arriba!" he crowed, blinking away the spots from his eyes.

Three more heavily clad bodies emerged from the tunnel, lead by a very eager and colourful Melter, carrying a collection of strange devices. Remy waved back Montoya. "Looks like we have company," the Melter curled his teeth back in a condescending tone.

"Back. Dis one needs distance." Remy turned back. "Psylocke, Winddancer, we need a hole to get Cypher through."

"Stop. Fucking. Calling me that," Sofia snarled, stepping forward. The tight space made interesting for wind manipulation; it would be all too easy to accidentally set up a vacuum. But a more concentrated selection should be safe. "Here," she said, casually "shoving" Melter at Betsy and whatever brain shinanigans she had planned for today, at the same time scattering the hired help between herself, Marie-Ange and Remy. The skittering noise of the villian's toys hitting the ground made an interesting harmony with the choking, cracking, liquid noises around her.

Various parts dropped to the ground, pieces rolling away that normally should not have and the men cursed as they recovered from being swept off their feet. Two stood fairly quickly in a face off with Marie-Ange. One reached for a gun while the other lunged forward with a fist, his other hand grabbing for a knife. The third crept behind her, searching the ground for something to hook around her throat.

The Melter stumbled into Betsy and hissed, activating his melting weapon at the core of his torso. "Things are about to get a little hot in here!" he declared triumphantly.

Stepping from behind the group, a heavily robbed man in black cunningly grinned with his slit eyes narrowing further at his target, Remy. He hollered a shrieky battle cry lowering in octaves as a pair of nunchaku were presented, flashing around his body in a display of his legendary skills. Then he stopped and pointed at Remy with them, settling in a stance that made him ready for his opponent.

"Betts, Remy think dis guy serious." Remy said, his voice incredulous. The man reached out with one hand, palm up, and made a 'come and get me' motion with his fingers. Remy stepped forward, his spatial sense already feeding him information as the rest of the goons paused to watch the duel. Remy's staff blocked one, two, three strikes in quick succession. Then, the man spun his nunchaku quickly, trapped the staff in the middle and yanking it tight with a look of triumphant. Remy grinned as he let go of the staff and flung his arms wide as he pivoted. From his hands, six cards flew, each striking one of the heavily armed men around them and knocking them to the floor, unconscious or dead. The goon with the nunchaku paused, stunned at the speed, as Remy simply reached past and grabbed him by the neck, pulling him sharply and head first into the staff he still held, knocking him cold.

With no direction, except to pour his beam into the wall, the Melter stepped through, only pausing long enough to account that they were either for the government or against it. Though a slight glint in his eyes told he was not finished with them and as always took in account of the old saying, an eye for an eye. He departed with his signature laughter that could almost be chalked up as a cackle if not for the phelmy cough to follow.

Remy was ready to follow when an explosion rocked the whole complex. "Dat must have been Pete and Cable. Tarot, Cypher, we need to be leaving now!"

***

With the Melter occupied, they had an opening, of a kind. The narrowness of the lava tube meant they still ran the risk of them getting caught by the Melter, or even just the risk of getting hurt by their own teammates. Marie-Ange held up one hand, motioning Montoya to pause and turned towards Doug. "Tell us when it is safe to run. Wait for us to get ahead of you in case there are more of them." She pushed up the sleeve of her shirt long enough to create a sword from the tattoo encircling her arm. It was too cramped for a staff, unless you happened to be Remy LeBeau.

Doug's face screwed up in concentration as he watched the fight rage back and forth. The opening was small, and the timing would have to be exact. Then the Melter surged to the left side of the tunnel, and Doug pushed sharply at Montoya and Marie-Ange. "Go go go!" he shoulted, weaving himself through the crowd of allies and enemies.

Montoya followed Doug's footsteps, prancing and cavorting through the lava tube. "I could have been sipping wine in my villa, but no, I have to listen to Christian Kane and so I find myself inside a volcano." He turned around, dodging one of the Melter's beams that passed over his head. Breathing hard, he held up a hand once they reached the computer, drawing his sword and standing next to Marie-Ange. "Young lady, it would be my honor to fight beside you while your little friend here does his job. What do you say, shall we have at them?"

Marie-Ange laughed lightly by way of agreement and raised her imaged sword briefly. "I would be happy to." She felt just a bit sorry for the poor henchmen who had to deal with them - Montoya's skill with a sword was far beyond hers, but she had youth on her side. And between them, they easily had the two henchmen who came through an open door lying on the ground groaning in pain. A few swift kicks with booted feet knocked the men out.

"LITTLE? Who're you calling little? I'm completely average height for a man!" Doug objected loudly. He frowned. "~And are you hitting on my girlfriend, old man?!" he asked in flawless Castillian Spanish.

"~Who are you calling old, impudent whelp?~" Montoya responded in kind, carving an X into a henchman's chest before leaning against the wall and panting momentarily. "Ah, that would be me, I suppose. Why, in my day, I would have handled ten, no, twenty of these villains without an eyeblink. Now, eh," he complained while casually disarming another henchman and booting him over towards Marie-Ange. "Now I am as they say, past my prime. But perhaps..."

Pulling his bandito mask down over his eyes, Montoya pushed off from the wall, swinging his rapier with a flourish and barring the entrance to the computer room. "Perhaps I have a bit of the fire left after all, si? Let them come."

"Impudent whelp?" Doug sputtered. "Who actually -talks- like that anymore? And a bandito mask? I'm going to start calling you Diego de la Vega," he announced derisively.

"Doug, dear, less argueing with the nice man with the very long sword and more hacking of the very old looking computer?" Marie-Ange said, in a all-too-sweet voice, while methodically kicking a henchman in the knees and then the ribs. "Who is Diego de la Vega?" She asked off-handedly, while using the sword to block a henchman's punch and cutting deeply into the man's arm.

"Fine, fine, if you insist," Doug muttered as he cracked his fingers and began typing rapidly at the console they had made their way to. "And Diego de la Vega is Zorro. But I'm thinking less Antonio Banderas and more George Hamilton." He stuck out his tongue and bit it as he concentrated. "Honestly, this computer is...well, to quote Dr. Henry Jones, Jr., it belongs in a museum."

"Zorro," Montoya insisted, "was Mexican! I am a Spaniard! Do you hear that, fascist pigdogs?" he shouted at the seemingly endless group of Zemo's minions that by now were having to climb over the groaning bodies of their comrades to try and stop the trio from their mission. "You are not facing a weak United Nations peacekeeper, or a hired thug! I am Alejandro Montoya! El Aguila! Arriba!"

"Antonio Banderas has played Zorro?" Marie-Ange questioned. "Why did I not know this before?" She spun, ducking under Montoya's arm to slash at one of the finally-lessening henchmen, who turned to retreat only to get another wound in his buttocks as she cut across the seat of his horribly ugly uniform. "This is absurd. Does he clone them? How does anyone afford this many hired guards and pay them enough for this?"

"How does anyone afford to put a freakin' base inside a -volcano-?" Doug retorted. "And for that matter, if you have the cash to afford that, why do you have a computer system that is programmed in B? Not C++, not even C, but _B_!" If it weren't for Doug's power, he'd be having a much harder time of things. But a programming language, after all, was a -language-, and that meant Doug could speak it. Or in this case, type it on an impressively ancient keyboard that made loud clacking noises as he typed. "I mean, the language only has one freakin' data type!" he exclaimed.

His right pinky finger was getting quite a workout as he kept muttering "close your brackets, close your brackets..." to himself. "I'm surprised this thing doesn't require punch cards. It's a marvel of modern engineering...back when ~Senor Aguila~ could 'handle ten or twenty of these villains without an eyeblink'." His fingers rattled across the keys even as his mouth continued to run. He grunted, stabbing the delete key several times before slapping the monitor with his open palm. "I said 'putchar', you ancient pile of crap! Work faster!"

And then the monitor began flashing red and making an alarming WHEEP WHEEP WHEEP noise.

"Um, shit." He winced. "I think that would be the self-destruct sequence for the base." His theory was confirmed when the screen changed to show a large countdown. "Um, everyone run?" he suggested brightly.