In A.D. 2011, war was beginning.

[pacifisted.livejournal.com]

WHO: 300,000 angry nerds and the Imports who fight them. Tag yourselves in, please!
WHERE: All around, but mostly near the Porter tower
WHEN: 7:30A May 18 - 3:13P May 20, 2011
WARNINGS: There is no fourth wall. Only Zuul. And violence. And probably bad language. And other things as well. JUST ASSUME THAT THIS LOG IS NOT FOR LIL'UNS.
SUMMARY: The Crabhammers declare war on the Porter and, to a lesser extent, the Imports. The battle lasts three days, is horrible in just about every way you can think of, and this is how it goes down.
FORMAT: However people wanna do it!

"There's no environment. Use your imagination. There's no fourth wall, whether it's the first time you've told this story about her life, or the sixth time."

Everything you need to know is here.

quick links to avoid crashy computers
in the fray
DAY ONE: 7:30 AM--10:00 AM (FIRST CHARGE, BROKEN TRAINS, TRAFFIC JAMS)
DAY ONE: 10:00 AM ONWARD (CONTINUED BATTLING, PUBLIC DISTURBANCES ELSEWHERE)
DAY ONE: 5:17 PM ONWARD (CONTINUED BATTLING, FIRES AND BOMBS ALL OVER)
DAY TWO: 1:00 AM -- 6:28 AM (CONTINUED BATTLING, ENEMY ENERGY DRINKS)
DAY TWO: 6:28 AM -- 12:00 PM (CONTINUED BATTLING, PIRATING THE RADIO STATION)
DAY TWO: 12:00 PM -- 7:42 PM (CONTINUED BATTLING, TOY RAIDS)
DAY TWO: 7:42 PM -- DAY THREE: 12:00 AM (CONTINUED BATTLING, ENEMY IMPORT-HATING REINFORCEMENTS)
DAY THREE: 12:01 AM ONWARD (CONTINUED BATTLING, HERE COMES THE CAVALRY)
DAY THREE: 6:45 AM -- 1:00 PM (CONTINUED BATTLING, CREATE YOUR OWN INSANE LAST-DITCH GEEK TRICKS)
DAY THREE: 1:00 PM -- 3:13 PM (CONTINUED BATTLING, THE MADAGASCARIAN TWENTY-GRAND HOLDOUT)
DAY THREE: 3:13 PM ONWARD (WAR OVER. TAKE PRISONERS, MAKE FRIENDS, GET HEALED, FALL ASLEEP, ETC)

not quite in the fray
DAY ONE: ALL DAY (ON THE SIDELINES, AT REST, TAKING BREAKS, ETC.)
DAY TWO: ALL DAY (ON THE SIDELINES, AT REST, TAKING BREAKS, ETC.)
DAY THREE: ALL DAY (ON THE SIDELINES, AT REST, TAKING BREAKS, ETC.)

fuck the fray
DAY ONE: ALL DAY (FORGET THE BATTLE, I HAVE HBO)
DAY TWO: ALL DAY (YOU LOSERS ARE STILL FIGHTING? IT'S AMERICAN IDOL TIME!)
DAY THREE: ALL DAY (IF YOU'RE ALL BUSY ELSEWHERE I'M JUST GONNA GO ROB A BANK)

Comments

DAY ONE: 7:30 AM--10:00 AM (FIRST CHARGE, BROKEN TRAINS, TRAFFIC JAMS)

[pacifisted.livejournal.com]

Open, in the air above the Manhattan Bridge

[out_of_time]

Ten minutes after it became clear that the City was experiencing an attack of massive proportions, Jack and his helicopter were in the air. The craft's powerful communications and information suite allowed Jack to continue belting out commands even as he flew to get a firsthand look at what was happening.

It was unlike anything he'd ever seen. If he had to classify it, he would call it a riot, but a pre-organized riot following a definite plan, whose participants were some of the most strangely armed and equipped people he'd ever seen. Judging by the buildings the crowds were pouring out of, it seemed clear that the immigration trend that had so recently given him hope for the City had been nothing more than a gigantic Trojan Horse, a mass infiltration in preparation for this attack. The thought only made him even angrier.

From their statement and from what he could see from the air, it was obvious their main objective was Manhattan and the Porter in Midtown. Hovering over the Manhattan Bridge, Jack saw hundreds of Crabhammers streaming across from Brooklyn into the island, storming through gridlocked civilian traffic, attacking anyone who didn't get out of their way quickly enough. Jack gritted his teeth and activated the helicopter's loudspeakers.

"THIS IS THE POLICE!" He roared. "LAY DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND SURRENDER IMMEDIATELY OR YOU WILL BE FIRED ON!" His answer came in the form of a flaming projectile arcing towards the chopper from a- catapult? Was that a catapult down there? Had they actually brought a catapult to attack the City with? That was it. Time to try out the chopper's new upgrades.

The projectile fell harmlessly into the East River. Jack activated the targeting system and stun cannons, locking onto the catapult operators. Blue bolts of energy flashed down from the sky with pinpoint accuracy, dropping four cloaked figures to the ground unconscious. Jack didn't hesitate before designating a new set of targets, starting with the hostiles who were threatening civilians. The bridge was a natural choke point for holding up their advance into Manhattan. He wasn't going to let any of them past.

OPEN, half mile south of the MAC

[notadartboard]

Sanji had taken to making his almost-daily grocery store trips early in the morning, before the elderly and homemakers descended in greater numbers on the markets, mostly to save himself time. If Luffy was still asleep he could usually be back in time to make breakfast before anyone even noticed he was gone.

Today, though, he was going to be delayed. He had made his early-morning sprint down to the big store with no problems, but now that he was on his way back, he was finding the intersections choked with vehicles. Some were the victims of ugly-looking accidents, others were just backed up as a result of said accidents. After getting an update via Luffy, Sanji took a moment to light himself a cigarette before starting off again. Coming to another intersection barricaded with cars, all honking and full of swearing drivers, he sprang up as though weightless and hopped lightly from roof to roof, making it over in no time. Well, that wasn't so bad.

But there was no way to know what was ahead of him. Damsels in distress? Combatants combing the streets looking for Imports? Sanji was oblivious. He would find out when he got there.

Open, In the Porter Building

[cosmic_ring_hero]

Curtis was not a happy camper. He'd been waiting upstairs to defend the Porter. He'd just been brooding and calming down from his initial panic at the idea of being sent home. Then he saw over the Network that someone had the bright idea to let the mob in. This led to him preparing for battle.

He listens to the noise coming from downstairs, just waiting for any of the mob to show up. Judging by his mood, it won't be pretty for them.

OPEN!

[emperorshand.livejournal.com]

She'd been walking, trying to get to her warehouse and run numbers. It wasn't her favorite thing to do, but someone had to do it, so Mara was on her way when all the TVs along the shop she'd been passing flickered to something new. She'd watched with curiosity when the guy went on about...something, she wasn't sure what exactly he was ranting and raving about, but she'd watched and at the end, she frowned.

Did he really think that people were going to--

Her train of thought was cut off by an entire legion of what could only be called social misfits erupted into traffic. She watched at the following pileup, and without even thinking, she reached out, and stopped one of the vehicles from skidding into her. Which, unsurprisingly, turned half the heads of the geeks, who'd noticed what she'd done.

And then they attacked. At first, she'd barely paid them any mind, just jumping and subduing them with stun blasts from her blaster. Did these men and women ever stop?

OPEN; help and opposition are both welcomed

[caprihorn]

Gamzee had been on his way to the library, planning to stalk more prey there and finally start some reading while he waited for his victims to arrive, when he saw something on a television that his caught his attention. Upon seeing the news and fully processing it, it only took him a split second to decide to change his plans for the day. Protecting the Porter, so he could continue to murder more and avoid going home just yet, just seemed more interesting than patiently stalking people.

Gleefully Gamzee pulled a tool from his strife deck, the bow this time, and took aim on the first Crabhammer he could identify. His arrow flew true and went through skull, right between the eyes of a strange man in a felt green suit with a green cap of some kind. Not pausing to consider the man too much Gamzee simply stole the hat and went on with shooting people. He was a damn good shot too, so far no one had gotten back up after he'd gotten to them.

When people started hitting him back Gamzee's aim still didn't falter. In fact his only response seemed to be a large grin and a lot of loud and annoying honking. It was almost like he didn't even notice that a good portion of his new wounds were there.

DAY ONE: 10:00 AM ONWARD (CONTINUED BATTLING, PUBLIC DISTURBANCES ELSEWHERE)

[pacifisted.livejournal.com]

Random street somewhere, open.

[queenofblacktears]

Ophelia had been perfectly content to let the little nerds go about their 'destroy the porter' plan. She was actually rather fond of it, really...if that thing went away, she couldn't ever be ported out. Granted, she wasn't sure if that meant dying here became permanent too, but it was a risk she was willing to take, really.

And yet the nerds themselves weren't willing to leave her be. She had just been out for a stroll to watch the war when the mob had found her. Now she stood on the end of a street, arms crossed, with the gravedigger she had created in her first network post and a bride she had apparently picked up somewhere along the way. The gravedigger was holding a broken off parking meter, and the bride was hovering ominously in place with her misery-inducing storm cloud floating above her head.

"That's her! I had all the action figures from that game and she made them disappear!" One of the mob members in the front, dressed as what appeared to be a viking, was rallying the nerds around him to charge, but no one seemed quite willing to take that first step.

"Oh come on, boys. There's only three of us," Ophelia actually laughed, throwing one arm up mockingly, the black tears lashing around her a bit more rapidly than usual, belaying the faint concern she was feeling. She could probably get overwhelmed with sheer numbers, but she could always fly away...and she would have a bit of fun until then, right?

From a bit further back in the crowd, someone threw a bottle which shattered against a car next to Ophelia, causing her and her minions to shield their faces from the glass. And as if the shattering noise had broken a dam, the mob itself charged.

For Peter but OPEN

[slayerpreferred.livejournal.com]

Buffy had just waved goodbye to that weird Alastair guy, and she was still punching mr. suit. But when she looked back she realized he was...passed out, and quickly dropped him, wincing a little when his head hit the ground. She's looking around for anyone who might need help, but this section of the street seems more or less empty. She brings back out her crossbow, stalking the sidewalk. She wasn't sure what exactly she planned to do with it, but if any vampires sprung up on the street in the middle of the day, she was set.

Besides, she still had her fists.

OPEN, also Kiryu get in here

[hackeralastair]

Needless to say, Alastair was having a terrible day.

After finally getting his chance to get away from the neighborhood of the Porter, he tried to head home, but the tunnels were blocked with cars and he couldn't get close enough to the bridge to find a way through on his motorcycle. So he turned around and headed back uptown, pausing only to finally get some damn coffee and frantically call Kaiba in the hopes he could get a few card blanks. He could feel the power of the Oricalchos rumbling in his soul, growing stronger the more afraid and angry he grew. He had convinced himself he wouldn't be able to stop from taking souls if it burst out of him again, and so the only thing to do was to get cards to hold the souls - the safest outlet he knew of. In truth, he didn't even know half of what his new power was capable of, and both under- and overestimated the danger. He still had three cards left to him, at least - the original Seal that had appeared in his deck that fateful night, and two spares that he had managed to keep from giving back to Kaiba after last time. So when the argument came to nothing, Alastair knew he would have to use those three cards sparingly, if it came to that.

He figured on trying to get to StarkTech if he could, because that building was likely to be safer than anywhere else right now. He'd be late for work, but he could still get there. Or so he thought. As he pulled up behind a line of traffic some three blocks or so from StarkTech, he realized the crowd of people thronging the intersection was more of the same. The conflict was spreading. A jolt of fear went through him, and it was last straw. No one in the cars around him could see the green symbol rise and flash to life on his forehead - his helmet covered it. But Alastair sat trembling on his bike while the power surged through him and awakened. Anyone who crossed him now was going to find out what the innocuous-looking young man could really do.

DAY ONE: 5:17 PM ONWARD (CONTINUED BATTLING, FIRES AND BOMBS ALL OVER)

[pacifisted.livejournal.com]

Open to STARS and anyone who wants to help defuse some bombs

[out_of_time]

Once the bombs had started to go off and fires began to spread, Jack immediately made them a priority. From their location it was clear they were intended to be distractions for the main strike at the Porter, but they posed a major threat to civilians, especially from fires. They couldn't be ignored.

A police officer had spotted what looked like a bomb being planted in a department store by people dressed as blue-shirted COBRA troopers from G.I. Joe. The costumes may not have been real, but the weapons seemed to be, and the car had withdrawn while the store was evacuated and available STARS personnel were mobilized. A few minutes later Jack was leading them toward the store, painfully aware that his team wasn't at its full strength, and that the enemy would almost certainly be ready to defend their bomb.

DAY ONE: ALL DAY (ON THE SIDELINES, AT REST, TAKING BREAKS, ETC.)

[pacifisted.livejournal.com]

OPEN

[hellisforchildren]

Alex had been celebrating his vacation by...converting his living room into a war room. He had the TV on 24/7, skimming through the news feeds, a laptop tracking social media, and the Abstract open in front of him.

The was a map of Manhattan spread out on the table, where he used the information he was gathering to track the movement of enemy troops. He kept in contact with other imPorts and their sympathizers via a bluetooth headset synced with his comm.

Glancing out the window of his MAC apartment, he could tell things were only getting started here. It wouldn't be long before they tried to bring the whole building down under him.

DAY ONE: ALL DAY (FORGET THE BATTLE, I HAVE HBO)

[pacifisted.livejournal.com]

DAY TWO: 1:00 AM -- 6:28 AM (CONTINUED BATTLING, ENEMY ENERGY DRINKS)

[pacifisted.livejournal.com]

OPEN

[megamaniacal.livejournal.com]

He'd been already exhausted! There'd never been so much fighting where he came from, and a few hours was normally the end of it! Where these silly humans were getting all their energy from, he'd never know. How did they keep going!? He'd been relatively alright until it hit night time, and they didn't stop! He was getting exhausted! There was only so many blue cubes of eventually to be rehydrated geek he could make!

Then they'd retreated, and he'd hoped that it would be over, and he was literally surrounded by blue cubes when he finally touched down, his jetpack taking a well deserved break.

And then they came again. He let out an almost girlish squeal and brought out his DE-gun again, a tired finger slipping the center from DE-HYDRATE to DE-COUPAGE. He didn't even notice when he pressed the trigger, and only when the man in front of him was suddenly covered in gold and little pieces of paper and decorations. There was even a silly looking pony on his forehead!

Oh, this wasn't good.

DAY TWO: 6:28 AM -- 12:00 PM (CONTINUED BATTLING, PIRATING THE RADIO STATION)

[pacifisted.livejournal.com]

Attempting to prevent the pirating of the station

[grey1911.livejournal.com]

Aaron was gearing up. He had no idea what the Crabhammers had planned at the radio station, but damned if he was going to let them have another success to gloat about. He was tired of sending out filler updates, he wanted to see some progress, and this was an opportunity to thwart their plan.

Bean-bag shot, riot gear, the staging area nearest to the radio station was small, but the room they'd been given had been stocked with items from a few locations who had a few spare pieces available.

Ten minutes to six, they had what few spare officers they could stationed in look-out posts. Aaron milled about in a coffee shop with a view from across the street of the radio station. All they could do now was wait.

DAY TWO: 12:00 PM -- 7:42 PM (CONTINUED BATTLING, TOY RAIDS)

[pacifisted.livejournal.com]

OPEN!

[notadartboard]

The intent had been a noble one, anyway. Sanji had spent most of the first day holed up in the MAC, feeding his dwindling crew and anyone else who trickled in hungry, not really interested in the fight outside. If they were going to send everybody home, he was not going to interfere. But it was clear by this morning that "sending the imports home" wasn't happening, either by design or by chance. And now they were attacking his friends - his lady friends. Sanji was not about to sit by and wait it out while that happened.

He had taken to the streets at a dead run, having to punt a few roving attackers out of the way of the MAC doors (thankfully they hadn't gotten in there yet), and headed in the direction of Rikku's. Shortly after noon found him nowhere near her workshop, or anywhere in particular, his way continually blocked by bands of nerds about as organized as any cadre of Marines - which meant more organized than one random pirate. He had no problem kicking their asses, and steadily did so in order to make his way to where people might need his help, but then a little car zipped up and haphazardly parked along the curb, a skull-and-crossbones sticker in the back window. Three girls tumbled out, wearing plaid skirts and toting cute backpacks as well as baseball bats. The guys currently attempting to hold this street and keep Imports from getting to Midtown yelled at them to go home, but one shouted out, "Don't you know his weakness? He won't hurt girls! Let us stand in front and he won't be able to do anything!"

Sanji straightened up and blinked. Wait, how did they know that about me? It was the truth, but he wasn't about to let on that they were right. For the moment while the girls argued their way into position, he stood back casually and lit a fresh cigarette, keeping his eye on the Crabhammer crowd. This was going to be a problem. He had to keep moving, he had to get past those guys who thought they were really tough, but they now had a wall of cute women in front of them. "Oi, oi," he warned them when he could get their attention. "This isn't a game, kids. If you want a war, you'll get one, with all the consequences to go with it. Don't get into something you can't handle."

One of the thugs in back giggled. "Dude, I think she's right, he won't attack the girls!" he stage-whispered. Sanji scowled even further; they had started it, and he would finish it. If he could just get those three ladies out of the way without hurting them!

DAY TWO: 7:42 PM -- DAY THREE: 12:00 AM (CONTINUED BATTLING, ENEMY IMPORT-HATING REINFORCEMENTS)

[pacifisted.livejournal.com]

Jack vs. Import-haters, Open

[out_of_time]

Two straight days of unrelenting crisis. Even by Jack's standards, it had been a long haul. But he wasn't going to quit until the enemy did. So when the call came in that a new wave of hostiles was hitting one of the police roadblocks in Manhattan while the helicopter was being refueled and rearmed, there was nothing for Jack to do but get in his SUV and head down there to examine the situation.

Despite the chaos in the City, Jack had no problems with traffic as he sped down the road, courtesy of a power he wasn’t even aware that he had. So when another SUV suddenly roared out of a side street and slammed into the side of his car, Jack was taken completely by surprise. Quickly regaining control of the vehicle, he wrenched the wheel until he came to a halt at the side of the road.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw men getting out of the car that had hit him- and more getting out of a van behind it. He saw them carrying pipes, bats, knives, a few firearms. Jack recognized the face of the other driver from an old police file: Marcus Gyrich, former employee of anti-mutant crusader Cameron Hodge, convicted of 3rd degree stalking in December 2009 of a citizen he had argued with over Import rights. Jack had examined his file as someone who might be susceptible to being recruited into terrorist activity. Apparently his suspicions had been right.

The SUV’s windows were tinted, and the attackers couldn’t see who was inside. That didn’t stop them from making their assumptions. Jack flashed his lights and sounded the siren, its wail cutting throught he air. They ignored it. A bat slammed into the rear window and bounced off the bulletproof glass. Gyrich kicked the passenger door and shouted. “Open up! Hey! You got an Import officer in there, huh? Got an Officer Freak? Open up!” Another kick. “It’s all over for them! You get that? This is the end of the fucking road!” He turned and addressed his friends who cheered and hollered. “That’s what’s happening! People are finally fed up with all this freak bullshit! Time to get them all-“

Jack put the car in reverse and backed up fast. The attackers jumped out of the way to keep from getting run over. A brick skidded off the windshield. Jack turned the car around, but the van moved to block him, and the SUV was on the other side. He was boxed in. He was going to have to fight these people. Somehow, he found the prospect of taking them out didn’t really bother him that much.

DAY TWO: ALL DAY (ON THE SIDELINES, AT REST, TAKING BREAKS, ETC.)

[pacifisted.livejournal.com]

2:00 PM, Washington Square Park Forward Command Post, Open

[out_of_time]

Jack was out of the helicopter for the moment, but that didn't mean he was off the job, not for a second. Sweat glistened on his brow as he bent over a map underneath the Washington Square Arch, surrounded by officers, paramedics, firefighters, civilian volunteers, and other people trying to help contain this thing. The sounds of continued chaos could be heard, not far away. A rough system had been worked out: Commissioner Hernandez was remaining at One Police Plaza to coordinate from the rear and talk to the various police precincts, fire stations, and hospitals, minimizing damage to the City and its populace, while Jack stayed out in the field, organizing things from the ground and focusing on defeating the enemy. He had not slept or eaten or bathed throughout the entire first day, and was well on his way to doing the same for Thursday. He ignored all that and focused on the map.

"All right, it looks like we've managed to keep them away from their main objective so far," he said, his voice tired but clear. "Judging by the reports we're getting, they've taken heavy casualties. I think it's time to start thinking about hitting back. We're going to be launching targeted raids." He reaches into a file folder, takes out a printout of the data the Red Queen gave him on the City's immigration patterns back in April. In identifying the hostels and apartments where people were moving, she had effectively mapped out the enemy's territory and bases of operations. He starts marking out key buildings on a map, the largest hotels and condos.

"It's likely these locations are serving as supply dumps and command centres for this attack. These people are being coordinated, if we can disrupt that, it will help slow them down. They've been living in these places, at the very least there must be intelligence in there we can use." He looked up and nodded to a SWAT commander. "You'll take your team to this complex in Queens, almost all its vacancies have been filled in the last few months which means it's likely in enemy hands." The commander nodded back.

Jack looked around the table. "I'm looking for volunteers to handle some of the other locations. And if anyone has anything they need to tell me or ask me, do it now because I'm back in the air within the hour."

[Open to anyone who wants to help Jack plan or just tell him to get some freaking sleep]

DAY TWO: ALL DAY (YOU LOSERS ARE STILL FIGHTING? IT'S AMERICAN IDOL TIME!)

[pacifisted.livejournal.com]

DAY THREE: 12:01 AM ONWARD (CONTINUED BATTLING, HERE COMES THE CAVALRY)

[pacifisted.livejournal.com]

Wrong Cavalry: Closed to Aaron and Hans. At home.

[grey1911.livejournal.com]

Two days of constant work to keep the city from falling apart. Aaron had been abused in more ways than he cared to count, and had a couple public appearances on top of it all. Finally, Hernandez had straight up ordered Aaron to go home for a few hours at least, to catch a breather. That he'd started showing the signs of blood deprivation had been a part of that order, and so he'd come home around 2:30AM. He downed enough substitute to just take the edge off before he collapsed onto the couch, feeling too distracted to fall asleep. He'd been more exhausted than he thought, so while watching the live feed from the mobs, he eventually fell asleep.

Outside in the dark, a baker's dozen were creeping toward the 'enemy outpost', on orders from a man (or monster) willing to take advantage of their zealous devotion to him. It was chaos in the city, and what better time to send boys off to die in service to War than during a great battle? Whether they succeeded in their suicide mission or not, he couldn't particularly care, but they were well suited soldiers to take out a traitor and a monster. Wordlessly, they all approached the compound, a flash of hand signals between them coordinating their efforts as they worked to maintain whatever element of surprise they could afford.

DAY THREE: 6:45 AM -- 1:00 PM (CONTINUED BATTLING, CREATE YOUR OWN INSANE LAST-DITCH GEEK TRICKS)

[pacifisted.livejournal.com]

SOLO 1/? - 10 am-ish

[notadartboard]

It was Enies Lobby all over again. Oh, not the fighting or the desperation or anything like that, it was the sleep deprivation. That time, Sanji had been awake for three days straight, not even able to snatch a nap aboard the sea train like Zoro did. And still he fought with all his might, burning to the last of his energy and then beyond, bloodied and torn and still able to find enough wits to pull off one last strategy at the Gate of Justice. This time wasn't nearly so bad, but it sure felt a little like Enies Lobby all the same.

Luffy was going to scream at him when he got back, he knew. He had missed making two meals for the guys, now, dinner and breakfast, and he was probably going to miss lunch as well. He'd make it up to them. Right now, the cook was just concentrated on staying alive. The fighters he ran into were no match for him at all, but the sheer numbers were tiring, especially running on a lack of sleep. Still Sanji kept going, burning through a whole pack of cigarettes in one day, storming his way toward the worst of it in midtown and beating the shit out of anyone who crossed him.

Well...anyone male. They wouldn't stay down until he broke bones or knocked them unconscious. After that first scuffle earlier yesterday he hadn't had to face any women, thankfully.

After stopping at a 24-hour convenience store that had already been broken into and raided (apparently for soda, energy drinks, and chips) for more cigarettes, Sanji made his way forward, aware that he was finally close to his destination. He didn't even have a real reason anymore, just that these upstarts had pissed him off and every last one of them had to be brought down. Giving him hope to be sent home and then revoking it with a death threat? That didn't sit well with him. It was one thing to share in his desire to return where he belonged, to live his life the right way and fulfill his dreams...it was quite another to consider death a good alternative if Plan A didn't work. At this rate Sanji didn't even need to find a lady to protect, a friend to back up, or a cause of any kind. The cause was merely his own anger, and the remaining forces of Crabhammers were asking for it. No, begging for it.

Sanji began to sprint, racing toward the barricades that were holding back the surging riot around the Porter building. The smoke from his cigarette trailed behind him as he hit his speed and pushed through the fatigue to get there. He could hear the melee before he saw it, and burst into the scene ready to take out as many as he could lay foot to...

...only now the streets were a mass confusion of costumed bodies. It was tough to tell who was fighting who anymore. He didn't usually see many of his fellow other-worlders in their costumes, so Sanji couldn't even be sure that any of them were close at hand. But something had definitely changed. The people in costumes were attacking each other now. He stood for a moment just taking it in, casually smoking, his hands in his trouser pockets. That is, until a young man in hipster clothing sitting up on top of a bus kiosk with a laptop and headphones started pointing in his direction and frantically yelling. Sanji couldn't hear what he was barking at the troops below, but he did see the guy pick up and wave a piece of paper. His eyes narrowed on that paper. Is that what I think it is...?

The hipster had a bounty poster. His bounty poster, with an actual photo of him from a newspaper article about All That Jazz photoshopped over the Marines' stupid drawing. And just as if they were all Marines themselves, a pack of toughs obeyed the orders and turned on Sanji. He braced himself; until he knew whether anyone else in this massive, mixed-up crowd was friend or foe, he would focus on this group. Just before they reached him he charged into them, whipping a foot around with a shout of "Mouton Shot!" Three of them crashed backwards into the kiosk, shattering the glass windows. But someone had circled around and got behind him, and now grabbed him around the neck, bellowing for his fellows to trap Sanji's legs so he couldn't kick.

DAY THREE: 1:00 PM -- 3:13 PM (CONTINUED BATTLING, THE MADAGASCARIAN TWENTY-GRAND HOLDOUT)

[pacifisted.livejournal.com]

Final police push, open

[out_of_time]

At long last an end was in sight, but for Jack that was a reason to push harder than ever before. The hostile force had splintered into different factions, lost ground and people throughout the City, and now were now being steadily pressed back into an ever-tightening perimeter. All they had to do was break this last resistance, and it would finally be over.

Jack stood on top of a police van, yelling into a megaphone. In front of him, a line of riot police pushed forward with their shields interlocked and batons swinging, driving into a crowd of thousands shouting something about Madagascar. Jack shouted over them:

"IT'S OVER! YOU HAVE LOST! GIVE UP NOW! THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO! PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND RAISE YOUR HANDS OVER YOUR HEADS!" A bag of Tabasco sauce spattered near his feet. He ignored it.

DAY THREE: 3:13 PM ONWARD (WAR OVER. TAKE PRISONERS, MAKE FRIENDS, GET HEALED, FALL ASLEEP, ETC)

[pacifisted.livejournal.com]

Open

[out_of_time]

Once he was sure, absoultely sure, that there weren't going to be any more surprises, Jack finally gave in. He staggered and stumbled back to his battered car, climbed in, and collapsed in the seat. It had been three days since he'd had a full night's sleep.

Outside the car, his officers gave him a wide and quiet berth. Inside, Jack thought about the City, his life in it, and what had just happened. Then, he slowly leaned back and closed his eyes.

DAY THREE: ALL DAY (ON THE SIDELINES, AT REST, TAKING BREAKS, ETC.)

[pacifisted.livejournal.com]

Around 4AM / Fun with NPCs / CLOSED

[pacifisted.livejournal.com]

They'd been fighting for two days straight when the reinforcements had showed up. They were exhausted. Trowa himself was out of ammunition at last--shocking, considering how much he'd packed into that subspace belt, but somehow not at all surprising to anyone--and had resorted to brute force, tiring him out even more.

So when the tide of help came in from the outside, it was understandable that they would try to rest, even if only for a little while.

Of course, having 40-something fans and nearly a dozen coworkers surrounding them in a giant protective... and talkative... circle was making that fairly difficult.

Trowa stared at the person who looked so very much like Zechs Merquise, and yet, was wearing an infinitely more ridiculous mask and had much shorter hair. Although he couldn't be certain, he was pretty sure the stranger was doing just the same in return.

"...What?"

DAY THREE: ALL DAY (IF YOU'RE ALL BUSY ELSEWHERE I'M JUST GONNA GO ROB A BANK)

[pacifisted.livejournal.com]

Open to whoever would be around the Maximoff residence

[magicalworld]

Calvin liked having people obey him. Calvin liked having people fawn over him and ask him for autographs and treat him like he was famous. Calvin really liked having people swearing to protect him and turn his home into a fortress while all that scary stuff was happening outside. The fact that all his defenders had a stuffed tiger didn't hurt either, although of course none of them were Hobbes.

What Calvin didn't like, though, were the questions.

'What was the Noodle Incident?'

'Do you even have a last name?'

'What's really going on with you and Susie? C'mon, you can tell us!'

His room crowded with fans, Calvin stood on his dresser and yelled at them. "THAT'S ALL CLASSIFIED INFORMATION! AND THE NEXT PERSON TO ASK ABOUT SUSIE DERKINS GETS A DART RIGHT IN THE KISSER! Once my autobiography is published you can all get discounts, okay?!"

'But in one Valentine's Day strip, after you two fought you were shown thinking-'

Fwap! The fan was cut off by a dart to the face.