revivalproject | Rage Caries You Away

For the briefest of moments, Billy hesitates, that scream cutting through him, through that rage that's consumed him, but a moment later and he's stalking towards his fallen form with a cruel look.

"So?" he counters, arching a brow, knocking him back again, even with him lying defenseless and in pain.

With Tommy on the ground, there's nothing he can do to keep himself from being blasted back. His shirt is soon torn up from being effectively dragged across the ground. Sure, it doesn't tear up his skin yet, but he almost wants to sob anyway. The electrical burn hurts bad, but nothing hurts as bad as what's happening now.

Tommy grits his teeth and starts to sit up a bit.

"Don't do this, Billy. What happened to being your brother? What happened to being family? Or are you trying to be like my blood family? Are you trying to be Frank and Mary?"

Billy uses his magic to try and hold Tommy in place, narrowing his eyes at the biting words. "Shut up!" he growls, bending to catch Tommy by the scruff of his shirt and haul him closer as he powers up his next blow.

The magic definitely catches him, and it goes from pain to flat out terror. Nothing was faster to break Tommy than to trap him. Worst is how his mouth clamps shut, unable to open, unable to speak, unable to scream or plead or even whimper. Silence. Utter silence, tears rolling down his cheeks.

But he refuses to closes his eyes. Refuses to flinch back from the blow. Maybe he wishes he could pull away, get away, flee, but the magic holds him at his brother's whim. Always, always these days he has to exist at his brother's whim, in his shadow, until clearly Billy snaps.

The surface of Tony's steaming coffee rippled before he processed the first sound, making him pause where he bent over the three disparate pieces he had made of Jon's tape recorder to see if he could reroute its output directly to D.A.T.A. without it being a tertiary recording through his communicator's microphone. The ripple came with a sense of deja vu that Tony couldn't immediately place, leaving him staring down into the mug when the sound came again, and he knew that sound. It wasn't one he had heard for a couple of months, but one that would have snapped him immediately into action in New York and made an erratic bloom of gold spread across his arms and back as he stood abruptly, knocking back his chair, to try to see out the front of the diner. At the window, he pressed a hand and almost his nose to the glass, feeling it shudder with the low boom under his palm as he searched, not enough cameras installed yet, not enough coverage, almost jumping back as the twins came skidding into view in the central square. "Hey!" he shouted first with a bang on the glass, like he could scare their attention away from each other. Of course that wasn't going to work.

The pounding of footsteps across the stone was faint under the crackle of Billy's magic, but Billy only had a hand on Tommy for a heartbeat before another arm was thrown around him, shoulder knocking Billy's hold away. These two hadn't even grown up together, they couldn't have had the sort of knock-down drag-out sibling fights as kids that would make them think this was even close to reasonable behaviour. "Time out, time out!," Tony was shouting anyway as he hauled Tommy around his chest up onto his feet, bodying Billy back a step as he did to put himself between them.

The Archivist is a few paces behind Tony and comes to a stop earlier than the other man, not putting himself entirely between the twins. He’s far too aware of Tommy’s fear. Far too unfamiliar with Billy’s magic - Or whatever may have caused this fight.

It hardly looks like a fight, though. Tommy clearly is at the disadvantage - And probably lucky that Tony is forcing himself between these two.

“Billy! What’s the meaning of this?” He directs his attention to the twin that isn’t utterly distressed at the moment, yet refrains from putting any compulsion into his question. He still trusts the boy to answer him willingly - And stop this senseless assault on his brother.

Some part of Billy seems to feel the hurt he's causing, even if the rage has control of him, eyes welling at the sight of his brother's tears. It only drives that compulsion to end him, hardly aware of the footsteps hurrying towards them before suddenly Tony's there between him and his target.

He lets out a frustrated huff, raising a hand to deal with Stark when Jon briefly draws his attention, and he almost absently shoves at him with a wall of magic to keep him from interfering.

"Give him to me-!" he growls, focus returning to his main target, trying to pull Stark away and separate Tommy from his would be saviors.

Yeah, at the moment Tommy was a way bigger fam of being magically immobilized in Tony Stark’s grip than waiting for death in Billy’s. Not that an ounce of the fear is gone. Because now there are people in the line of fire and he can’t move to get them away. He’s Pietro watching the ravaging fury of Wanda’s power tearing the Avengers apart. Helpless to do anything, caring too much about his twin to even consider raising a hand even if he could move.

If he could he would tell them to run. If he could he would tell them there was nothing they could do. If he could he would call Wanda, because he couldn’t think of anyone who had power on par with his, who might be able to stop his brother without just killing him.

But all he can do is wait. And the nanoseconds have never felt longer, each one its own hellish eternity.

Tommy might not have been able to raise a hand, but Tony wasn't going to wait around to find out what spell was about to come out of Billy's mouth; Tommy was wild-eyed, dead weight in his hold, clothes shredded under his hand and a familiar jagged scorch wrapped around his arm. If Billy had anymore to say as he grabbed at Tony, he was cut off by the precisely sharp slam of Tony's elbow into his teeth, followed by another more wild strike to get him to back off again and try not to choke on a canine at a safe distance. That kind of wound on Tommy meant they weren't pulling punches, Tony could deal with what damage Billy had bit into his arm after he pulled Tommy up again to try to get him more securely over his shoulder. "Back inside!" he barked at Jon before another bolt of magic went his way.

Being remarkably unfamiliar with the concept of having to block or dodge incoming magic - or incoming anything, really - Jon meets the wall with a wide-eyed yelp and a single arm brought up before his eyes for the sake of his glasses. That he ended up being roughly pushed away several feet is hardly a surprise, but aside from feeling irritated at least he remains largely unhurt. He still blinks up and around at the dissipating magic, mind trying to understand what had just happened while picking himself back up and he hears Tony shouting at him.

There is... So much more fear surrounding the three of them now.

Tommy remains terrified, firmly grasped by the Stranger and the Desolation. Tony shares the Desolation, but puts up a fight regardless. The. There is Billy... and for all his aggression.... He, too, is afraid. The Stranger, the Spiral and the Web. The Web...

“Christ...” Jon mutters, hesitating to follow Tony’s command even as he is back on his feet “H-He isn’t in control of himself!” He calls out to Tony and Tommy alike. For the later it may be more important to know that his brother doesn’t want to harm him.

Rearing back, Billy sees white for a moment, a metallic taste flooding his mouth. He wipes blood from his lip with a growl, focus shifting solely to Stark now. Tommy's released from the spells that bind him, just in time for Billy to send a concussive wave after them, intent on knocking Tommy from Tony's grip.

A flash of blue and he's teleported to cut them off, sending another blast counter to the first.

"I'm not done with you-" he pants.

Edited 2020-05-28 08:40 (UTC)

The magic falls off of him like one of those stage performances. One moment the magician is in chains, the next he says a special word, has a moment of misdirection, and it all falls off of him like tattered paper streamers. Of course this comes as Tommy is over Tony’s shoulder, and in the milliseconds before the concussive wave hits them.

His arm hurts so bad, he can smell the faint char to the skin from the burn, and when he looks he can see the way the damage to the blood vessels have left a pattern not unlike the branches of a tree, or maybe the shape of lightning, down his arm. Oh well. That doesn’t matter. The pain doesn’t matter nearly as much as there are people other than himself in the path of this now. And if nothing else, Tommy knows how to handle anything when there are other people in danger.

“Well duh on controlled,” he hisses out, trying not to let there be a flash of hope in his chest at the Snooty-Asshole’s announcement that Billy was being controlled by something. Of course he was. Billy wasn’t capable of this sort of thing on his own. That didn’t change the fact that it HURT to be in the position of the one betrayed anyway.

He braces his good arm against Tony’s shoulder, and a foot briefly against Tony’s chest. Sorry, Iron Man, but there’s no keeping a good, or at least functional, speedster down. He easily pushes off of Tony, his strength far in excess of the older but ultimately human man. With a flip he’s over Tony’s shoulder and behind him, intending to put himself between Tony and his brother, even as a concussive wave knocks into them. Tommy stumbles, shaken by the force, and when he looks up... a flash of blue and Billy isn’t there.

Billy doesn’t teleport that fast. Maybe it was always because he had been restraining himself, keeping his powers in check. Tommy was always faster. Except now he’s got his back to the fight even as another blast is thrown at them. At least he’s fast enough to turn around and catch Tony if he so much as stumbles.

“You should get out of here, Stark. You two, Talky-Ass. You can’t handle him. I might be able to lead him away from people though.”

Minimizing collateral damage. It’s the hero thing to do.

Already off balance from Tommy's sudden vault, over his shoulder before Tony had time to realize he had tensed and leaving him grabbing at nothing to try to slow Tommy down before he was any more hurt, and from the first shove of magic at his back, Tony fell back with a cringe from Billy's second blast and was surprised to find himself still upright against Tommy. Scrambling to get his feet back under himself, he grabbed back blindly for Tommy to direct him toward Jon as he corrected that plan, "Get him." They could take care of each other while Tony had Billy's attention; someone was going to have to find out how much damage had really been done in that zap to Tommy's arm, and clearly Jon couldn't be trusted to remove himself from a dangerous situation. Tony would be fine, it was Tommy that Billy was trying to fry, regardless of who or what was in control of him, and if Tommy was willing to stop Tony from cracking his head open on the pavement, he could tolerate Jon in a crisis.

With Billy out of reach, Tony put his hands up in apology for the dental work and surrender as he stepped away from Tommy, trusting him to get out of the line of fire and stop riling Billy up. "Okay, sweetheart, you got him, it's over. Do you want to tell me what's got you all twisted?" he tried, even and low, maybe keeping him talking the way to minimizing the casting if damaging the instrument wasn't going to do it.

Expecting Jon to remove himself from a situation such as this one merely because it's dangerous still equals asking him to leave well prepared meal because it would make him feel full. No, he doesn't like what is happening and yes, he is afraid. But the Archivist remains drawn to the fear like a moth to the flame. Drawn to watch, observe and understand.

And he is far from understanding what is happening here.

What he does understand is, that Tony and Tommy are arguing among themselves just as much as they are trying to get through to Billy, who in turn has resumed his attacks. Whether or not Tony's attempt to talk to Billy will have any effect, however... Who knows?

Tony's apparent surrender did seem to at least briefly halt Billy's attacks, though he looked no less agitated, breathing heavily and spitting up more blood. The question prompted some short introspection. Why was he so angry? He couldn't remember, and that in turn only grew the frustration and fear.

"I can't-....nnn-"

Edited (shut uuuuuup omg) 2020-05-28 19:55 (UTC)

Tony... could probably hold up against Billy for, like, twenty seconds. That’s all the time Tommy supposes he needs. He is behind Tony one second, and behind Jon the next, super strong arms scooping the Archivist to him, nice and bridal style. See, he’s nicer than Tony, he won’t even treat you like a sack of potatoes.

“Don’tfight,” Tommy says so fast that the syllables probably just sound like one slurred mating call of some truly flamboyant tropical bird or something. And he moves. Sorry for any nausea that comes with being a full quarter mile away in less than a millisecond. A lot of people tell him it is uncomfortable, but Tommy doesn’t care. Something about him, about his powers, means that it doesn’t manage to turn the people he carries to jelly, so plus there. Then he just puts Jon right down onto the ground before in a blur off light glinting off of his white hair and a streak of color from his blue shirt, not to mention the rush of wind, he’s back closer to Billy, a hand on his shoulder.

“Yougottafight,” Tommy insists to his brother. Yeah, totally going to get blasted away. He knows it. But he has to TRY.

The flash of colour that was Tommy and Jon buzzing away made Tony's gaze flicker only briefly from his cautious watch over Billy, some pressure relief, letting his voice drop lower as he continued his careful approach. "That's okay, nobody's here to hurt you, it's done," he tried, a steady rhythm that-- fucking dammit, Tommy. A sharp glare interrupted Tony's mantra, his hands twitching from lowering surrender up into a question, what did he think he was doing?, before Tony noticed Tommy's hand on Billy's shoulder. His eyes widened, knowing damn well what was about to happen and frustratingly slower than either of these kids. Physically, anyway. He still tried, grabbing for the front of Billy's shirt to jerk his attention away from Tommy.

"Wa--" Jon begins when he notices Tommy near him-

"--it!" He finishes less than a second later and almost half a kilometer away.

Suddenly he stands alone. His senses catch up another two seconds later and the Archivist tumbles a couple of steps, not sure if he is about to get sick or not. Then his mind clicks back on to helpfully remind him what just happened. And his very own panic dropped low into his gut.

"Shit. Shit shit shitshit shit!"

And this is how Jonathan Sims, Archivist and avatar of voyeuristic terror begins his unimpressive jog back, hoping no one gets themselves killed in the meantime...

Billy almost seems to be responding, almost, though whether Tony was really getting through to him or not is hard to say, startled back into reactionary action at Tommy's touch, growling and turning to blast him away again. His attention is quickly returned to Tony, and with that hand fisted in his shirt Billy teleports them a few feet away to try and keep Tommy from interfering, and a few feet up for good measure, blasting him off and letting him drop back to the ground.

Yeah, fuck. Tommy is thrown back, skidding across the ground. Except, you know, skidding over the good arm, which at this level of force, his body this tired... talk about some serious road rash. It hurts, a lot, and he’s slow to push himself back up, what with the way his injured arm was jarred.

And because of that, he doesn’t see Tony get grabbed. Doesn’t see the teleport, and doesn’t see the man dropped.

The shove back registered faster than the gravity did, the change of light as they were suddenly away and up out of the long, morning shadows of the central square making Tony squint and blink before he was processing how easily the blast had knocked him back with his feet kicking out from under him with no friction. He had barely started to twist, grabbing desperately, with a shout before he was already hitting the ground.

Something cracked, either stone or bone, Tony wasn't sure, but this definitely wasn't the worst fall in his life, he could walk this off, just a second. He grunted, eyes squeezed shut, willing his skeleton to stop vibrating until he couldn't breath anymore through the blood pooling in his throat from his bitten tongue. He had to force himself up onto his hip to cough and look wildly around for Tommy. "C'mon, Kaplan, you're more creative than that," he taunted roughly when he didn't immediately see the other brother, not waiting for Billy to catch sight of him first and trying to draw him closer again into Tony's reach.

The taunting isn't meant well, but it does at least keep Billy's attention on Stark, lashing out with another formless blast of magic, seeming unable to focus well enough to do anything all that complex or creative with it. He comes to land in front of Tony, magic pushing him hard into the ground.

"Shut up-!" he warns with narrowed eyes, and he preemptively throws out a hand cast a barrier around them and keep Tommy from stealing Tony away.

Tommy looks up just in time to see Tony hit the ground. And he pushes to his feet. At least he hears Tony's voice. That's... something. If he can just get the guy away, to the hospital or something...

"Fuck," he groans as he pushes to his feet and starts stumbling to Tony and Billy. Of course he can't get closer with the barrier in the way, but that doesn't stop him from pounding on it. "Don't do this, Billy. Please. Please stop. You don't want to hurt anyone. You're not me."

That assault felt like being hit by a train right now, his whole body sensitive and bruised, pathetically fragile without his armor, but Tony survived it, too. He dropped onto his back again before Billy had to force him, breathing a humourless laugh for his own resilience and tonguing at the blood at the corner of his mouth, one hand barely up to try to get Billy to give him a minute so they could at least make this a fair fight now that he was numb. Fair wasn't part of the program, though. The push into the ground knocked the wind out of him, his smile turning quickly to a grimace, and he had to gather himself quickly to make a grab for Billy's leg to drag him off balance before any more bruises got bruises.

Half a kilometer is half a kilometer. And while there are many people who will argue that half a kilometer isn't that much of a noteworthy distance to cover, Jon will readily remind them that it is still a distance and that not every person enjoys covering distances in a hurry.

Jon certainly doesn't. And he is adequately out of breath upon getting at least within sight of the mess he has been dragged away from.

And it's not a good sight. At least for everyone that remotely cared for one, maybe two of these people involved. Maybe all three even? For someone that feeds on fear, on the other hand, it's a glorious sight. There is... A lot.

Unfortunately, Jon considers himself to be part of both groups and as a result finds himself delightfully terrified. Or terribly delighted? Or... It's complicated.

At any rate, he does try to call out to the trio, call out for them to just stop fighting. But all the Archivist manages to produce at this point is a pathetic little croak. Who thought it is a great idea to run all the way back here? Half a kilometer, remember?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Never shut up you are golden and the bright light in my day

him light bright

You all get to suffer this fabulous Intermezzo

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject