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Frankly, that would probably still be underselling it. While the Chitauri might well have had millions upon millions of troopers under arms, an entire species dedicated to being the army of an insane space psychopath, beyond having the basic necessary training necessary to keep funneling themselves through their various dimensional doorways, they rather lacked any real organization. Technological level aside, they were basically scavengers, a swarm of locusts, one whose entire philosophy was to kill as many of the enemy as possible, damn their own losses. Any location putting up an actual fight inevitably drew more Chitauri down on them than was strictly necessary or tactically sound. The only exceptions to this were the cities over which the doorways had been opened.
With the aided aerial firepower of Cannonball on their side, the French destroyers began to fire their main guns in force. The combination of the two, along with the arrival of the French reinforcements, finally started to turn the tide. The surviving skimmers, which had pressed forward out from the defensive envelope of the larger, fish-like creatures, retreated back towards them now.
What the bigger guns inlaid upon the Rippers would do to a destroyer didn't bear thinking about, and for the moment, they weren't. The destroyers still had missiles, and thanks to having retreated from the destroyers, the jamming equipment the Chitauri had been using had begun to lose power. Rippers began to be struck by salvos of Sea Darts, which served to batter down their shields, followed closely by ordinance that could knock them out of the sky. Perhaps they weren't always killed after being dropped from the air, but the might of the firepower being unleashed upon them certainly was enough to knock them into the ocean.
And the British and French forces, to their shocked delight, soon learned that despite the fact that they looked like fish, the giant Rippers could not swim. Whatever electronics had been graphed into them didn't seem to fare very well in seawater.
More destroyer groups arrived as time went on, having set sail from the British Isles in slowly increasing force. Within an hour, along with Cannonball for aerial support, they'd managed to create a defensive bulwark that they slowly spread out in every direction. Several hours after the Channel had been secured up to and beyond the Straits of Dover, the rest of the Home Fleet finally arrived along with several more Air Force squadrons. With the guns of the bigger ships, including the flagship of Home Fleet and Britain's sole remaining battleship, the King Henry IV, the humans began pushing in towards the French Coast.
OOOOOOO
Within thirty minutes of the planning session wrapping up, in carefully chosen and preserved secure sites on military bases within the United Kingdom, France, the United States, Canada, Germany, Sweden, Finland, and Norway, specially prepared weapons caches began to be opened. These had all been magically sealed, but Harry had asked Kitty and Dr. Druid to see to the European caches. Wanda likewise would see to the ones in the United States, since Canada's native goddess would see to her country's caches, before joining the X-men as they attacked the Chitauri assaulting Washington, DC.
Many of the weapons in the sealed caches had been taken from the armories aboard the captured Kree vessels from the last time attempt to assault Earth. Others, the majority in fact, had been created by Hephaestus (2) in an effort to build up a surplus of infantry-style weapons during and after the Eurasian War. At that point, the belief had been that infantry-style weapons, no matter how high tech, were not nearly as dangerous as powered armor technology—which admittedly, several countries already had access to—or larger weapons systems. The magical locks had also kept the weapons from being repurposed' (stolen) unless accessed the locks were removed by magic. And while there were still a few around who hadn't allied with Harry by that point, he did have a monopoly on those skilled individuals willing to work with non-magical authorities.
Once the caches were unlocked, military men from Fortress Mars would arrive at the special sites and take over. They handed out the advanced weaponry to the local militaries, and then in many places, turned around and sent those same forces through the runic portals to doorways closer to the action. The Norwegian and Swedish forces, for example, were moved into Finland before being debriefed and directed to push across the eastern borders. Of course, this was only after the Russians on the other side of those said borders gave them the go ahead. Given the recent Eurasian War, a lot of bad blood still remained across the region. However, with the Chitauri pressing out hard from Severomorsk, and that advancement making headlines and news across their country, the Russians could ill afford to let their bitterness, pride, or arrogance make their decisions for them.
Similarly, the French weren't about to turn down help from the United Kingdom or Germany, not that they were ever as prickly about such things as the Russians. While the French and British naval forces battled the invaders to a vicious draw across the Channel, German fighter jets set out to cross their western border as well. They quickly ran into a kind of expeditionary force.
Here, the previous deaths of the French fighter pilots who had run into the enemy skimmers earlier served those who attacked now in good stead: they closed into missile range, locked on targets, fired, and then kept their distance The second wave of pilots preformed this set of moves until they were out of missiles and then retreated back to base to rearm. Unfortunately, in the heat of the moment, they didn't think to use more than one missile at a time, and didn't knock out as many skimmers as they could have. And they were still losing planes from pilots who got a little too close to the enemy.
Meanwhile on the mainland, Belgium and Germany had mobilized their motorized battalions and moved them into France, causing some momentary and very nasty flashbacks from older civilians or military men as they saw this. Most of the incoming units were anti-air divisions, which would be worth their weight in gold in time. But there was a lot of distance to cover between Paris and the French border with Germany, or even Belgium, and the divisions' vehicles were too big to get through the runic doorways. It would take time for them to arrive in any location where they'd be useful.
By the time they would, all involved hoped the war would already be over. If not, there probably wouldn't be much of the City of Lights left to save.
In the south of France, infantry divisions of the country's military were being reinforced by portal-transferred brigades of the British army, who brought with them the more advanced weaponry of the Avalon Empire. By this time, other divisions, both infantry and tank-based, had already set out towards Paris from other military bases within the 1st Military Region. Due to the collapse of the local networks, there was no communications or coordination between them at all though.
To make matters worse, they were also taking horrendous fire from the Chitauri skimmers. The sheer numbers the invaders had were proving a real detriment toward any force moving to stem the tide within the 1st Military Region. The other regions were also responding of course, but they were by definition further away, making any assistance they could offer moot for the time being.
Others, however, would find their way into battle much more quickly.
"What do you mean magic carpets?" An SAS Major asked, staring down at the frizzy-headed youth in front of him. While her youthful looks reminded the older man of his own daughter, what she had just said threw him for a loop despite having been briefed both on magic in general and Harry Potter in particular.
"I mean sir, that magic carpets are how the Custodes sometimes travel around. Especially our retrieval teams, the groups that go into countries to rescue young mutants from abusive families or local citizens," Kitty explained, showing no concern for the older man's gruff tone as she stared back at him, instead smiling whimsically. "The Orbital Drop Marines have their own way of getting into the fight, and the Custodes will be taking a larger magic carpet meant for group transport, which leaves us with a few here. Don't worry sir, Dr. Druid and I will be doing the driving."
Harry and his officers had decided to only use the magic carpets in Europe rather than in Russia or America as well for a few reasons. First, even magic carpets, fast as they were, took time to get somewhere. Even if they flew down from orbit to the nearest base that still answered to the chain of command, it would then take a long time for them to get to Severomorsk. Worse, the city was already almost entirely under alien control by last reports, as well as defended by an ever-widening AA umbrella.
With America, the problem was entirely the opposite. There, the military forces had done a much better job of holding off the Chitauri's attempts to push out from Washington. Additionally, the Custodes had also already assigned a large amount of their resources into the fight in Washington, much like they had to the fight in Russia. With the X-men having their own jet, and the Custodes using a special dropship like they'd used during the Eurasian War, this left the magic carpets to be used by their allies.
"Say I believe you miss. Even then, aren't magic carpets supposedly really fragile? Not to mention, I don't know about you, but I think anyone with eyes would be able to see something so large and flat flying through the air pretty easily right?"
"The fact no one has openly reported such a thing so far should tell you we've already thought of that," Kitty countered, snickering as she gestured for the man to follow her. He did so, though grumbling and nonplussed at her general blasé attitude towards his concerns. As they walked, Kitty explained that multiple different spells protected the magic carpets, and even showed some of them by hopping onto the nearest one and raising it into the air for a few moments.
After a minute passed staring up at the sky where the magic carpet was supposed to be hovering, the Major slowly nodded. "All right, you've convinced me, little miss. Let's get this show on the road. He who dares, wins."
Moments later, the first company of SAS were in the air and headed south towards the Channel, then on to Paris, skirting around the naval-aerial battle there and moving on.
OOOOOOO
At pretty much the same time the SAS were shipping out from Britain, the Orbital Drop Marines and the Custodes arrived to join the battle for Paris.
Although admittedly, calling it a battle would not really have been accurate by that point. Whatever defense the French police might've offered had long been crushed by the Chitauri's aerial superiority and by this point only the invaders were doing any firing. None of the responding French forces had been able to push into the city, let alone contest its airspace.
Inside the city limits, Rippers were still smashing down buildings, crashing into them bodily, their mouths gaping wide as they belched out massive beams of greenish energy. From their sides the smaller guns opened fire on anything that moved below, slaughtering any civilian who dared to show themselves. Above, skimmers hovered in constant patrols, providing overwatch. Perhaps against missiles? Thunderbird, who'd been observing it all as they closed, didn't know. Others dove down into the city like stooping vultures, firing at any civilians they saw just like the Rippers did with their secondary weapons.
And all the while, more skimmers and Rippers came through the portal above, a never-ending wave. Even as the aliens became aware of the plummeting ODMs above them, more of the invaders arrived every second: thousands of skimmers and a dozen Rippers, only one of which dove down to the city. The others moved off, hovering for a few moments in a loose ring before they were joined by still more, all of which turned their attention skyward to the plummeting fireballs headed toward them.
Almost like a hive mind, the Rippers and nearest skimmers turned their attention away from the burning, gutted city below and began to open fire at the ODMs. Fortunately, the small, spherical shields the ODMs used as protection against the heat of atmospheric reentry worked just as well against the energy-based weaponry of the Chitauri as high levels of air friction. Only six of the ODMs were mission-killed due to lucky strikes from a Ripper's main beams as they descended. Four of the six were teleported out by the medevac array, while the other two literally lost their heads to the energy beams before the runes even had a chance to activate.
Ironically, the Chitauri should perhaps have been concentrating their fire not on a widespread group of incoming targets, but instead against the one object falling towards them that was magically shielded against the heat of reentry. Why? Because a second after they started firing at the human reinforcements, the falling object—a slab of metal that Thunderbird and his team had decided to ride down on—smashed into the body of a Ripper. The monstrous amalgamation of metal and alien flesh screamed in pure agony as its body was pulped at the site of impact and it smashed down onto a mound of rubble.
As he'd been falling, Thunderbird had been bellowing out orders, the entire time fighting back the urge to just screech out an Apache warcry. That would come later. "You all know what to do! Mystique, get to the ground. The rest of us, let's make some noise! Be on the lookout for anyone or anything among these bastards that even look like they're giving out orders! Sean, the Oh Damns are yours."
With that, the slab had impacted, and Thunderbird raised his hatchet above his head before leaping at another Ripper. The weapon, an upgrade to the one he'd originally used, was of Asgardian make, the smiths there forging it for him as a token of thanks for his efforts during the Shadow War. Slamming it down, the raw cutting force of the hatchet split the giant creature's head in twain with ease.
Quickly pulling out his magic broom, Thunderbird flew off towards yet another Ripper and hacked into its neck from below, wasted no time before flying up higher. Behind him, Ben was in fine Thing form, roaring out, "It's clobbering time!" before following his example and jumping at another Ripper. He landed on the creature's back, grabbed a fin with one hand for stabilization, and then began to rain down blows with his other. Unlike Thunderbird, the Thing had refused any weapon, still preferring to use his fists, but he soon burst through the alien monster's armor through sheer strength alone. Having broken through, he started to pulp the flesh beneath even as the Ripper bucked and heaved in an effort to throw him off.
For her part, Anne Marie Cortez didn't target the larger alien cyborg beasts. Instead, she landed on a nearby roof that had somehow escaped destruction, one of few in that area of the city, and began to lash out at any skimmer she could see with her energy blasts. Each blast by itself was enough to destroy a skimmer shield and all, although they seemed to barely bother a Ripper, leading to her decision to ignore them. "Thundra, you okay?"
Grumbling, Thundra, who had botched her landing to avoid the corpse of some uniformed man that had somehow gotten onto the same roof she'd aimed for, pushed herself to her feet and jumped up to join the other woman. Neither had worked together before this battle, though they had occasionally trained together in the Room of Requirement at Camelot. "Damn it all, I think I need to get better at remembering my broom." With that, she immediately whirled the chain portion of her weapon above her head, smashing into a skimmer that came too close without even looking.
Meanwhile, Banshee was having a time of it as he screeched his head off while nimbly flying through enemy fire. Of course, there were a few times he couldn't dodge even with his skill, but thankfully his suit had long since been fully replaced with a non-powered version of the same type of armor Coyote and Uzume wore. The upgraded model could absorb a lot more punishment before it started to give way.
In contrast, both the Rippers and Chitauri seemed highly susceptible to his sonic screams, many of the bipedal aliens even grabbing at where their ears must be under their helmets. Often times, this caused the Chitauri affected to lose control of their skimmers and crash into a compatriot if not the cityscape below. Likewise, the Rippers twitched about in agony, almost like fish when pulled onto dry land as they flopped about in midair. As they writhed in agony, their weapons often fired in every direction at random, an unconscious reaction due to the pain that caused still more chaos among the invading forces.
Despite these positive signs, the entrenched forces above the city continued to close against the human intruders from all sides, almost like a gigantic fist trying to crush them. Rippers turned in their direction. Skimmers began to open fire in more concentrated bursts. Last but not least, the Super-Skrull finally blasted his way out of a wrecked building, turning to glare up at what was going on. Oddly, he seemed able to ignore the distant Banshee's howling.
A soldier to his core, born and bred for one purpose, the Super-Skrull didn't bother with any sort of battle cry or announcement of his presence before he chose his target and bodily crashed into Cortez, hurling her off the building she'd been scouting from with a cry of surprise and pain. Quickly gathering herself, she managed to pull out her magic broom, while still relatively high in the air, before righting herself just in time to keep a few feet away from the ground. As she tried to shake off the daze from the sudden attack, she kept close to the ground, dodging wildly as skimmers rushed to close her in from all sides. Realizing she was about to be trapped, she made a snap decision and doglegged to shelter in a wrecked building, flying through a smashed window and into its interior.
Landing, she returned her broom to its expanded pouch, hastily stepping over a corpse near the window she'd entered through. Turning, Cortez fired off an energy blast on instinct, catching the first of the Chitauri that had followed her through the window in the chest, hurling it back outside. Several others then burst through other windows all around her, quickly moving to surround her once again. Seeing the writing on the wall, she ducked away to avoid return fire, rolling over another corpse with a grimace. As she picked herself up to run through the ruined interior of the building, completely pulling away from her teammates' location, she fired back with everything she had. "Damn it! This is Cortez. There's too many on me, I'm pulling back and to the… southwest, according to my GPS. I'll link up with the ODMs as they land and rejoin you all later."
There was no reply, then… a terse acknowledgment from Thunderbird. The others couldn't reply, they were too busy.
Back on the roof where Cortez had been bulldozed by the Super-Skrull, Thundra roared as she brought her weapon across, crashing it into the giant bastard's shoulder and side, hurling him away. The follow up, however, was blocked, and fire erupted from the Super-Skrull's arm into Thundra's face in response. That initial blow had only served to knock the supersoldier off his feet, causing no actual damage.
Luckily, Thundra was almost as immune to heat in general as the Thing was, and although she stumbled back from the flames enveloping her head and upper body, it was more because she was unable to see rather than it actually hurting. Warrior instincts flaring, she managed to duck to one side just as the Super-Skrull charged forward, his other fist enlarging and swinging towards her just as a blow from Richards would have.
Quick to counter, Thundra's return strike did seemingly nothing, simply deforming the alien a little as his rubbery body took the blow with ease. The hand that had been on fire snapped out, grabbing onto her outstretched wrist hard enough to shatter a normal person's bones to dust. Before she could react, she was pulled into a punch that rivaled some of the ones she had taken from her lover rocky.
Just then, both the Thing and Thunderbird arrived on the scene. Above, the Orbital Drop Marines had finally entered their range, smoke flares firing from the Heavy Gunners, while they opened up with rockets and decoys. The sudden shock of the brutal assault, right on the heels of the Custodes' abrupt appearance, meant that during that opening salvo only two more Orbital Drop Marines were shot out of the sky, and of those, only one was taken out permanently. An unlucky energy strike to his visor would burn into his face, searing through to his brain before his emergency array could activate and teleport him back to orbit.
"You know what to do ladies. First priority is to defend the remaining civilians, second is to utterly destroy these fuckers who think they can come into our house and take it from us!" Sean McIntyre, previously of the US Marine Corps, barked out, activating his jumpjets. Several small drones instantly began to pop out of the backpack-like section of his armor, which had been enlarged in his version of the ODM armor. These drones relayed their sensory data into McIntyre's helmet, giving his HUD a full three hundred and sixty degree view as if he weren't helmeted at all. As soon as his screens came online, he began to lay down fire on a series of Chitauri that had begun to crawl along the walls of a few nearby ruined buildings, lighting them and anything that moved up with vengeance.
Of those minced Chitauri, two were able to react quickly enough to take McIntyre under fire in turn, but by then he was already gone, having used his jump jets to fly sideways and into the ruins nearby for cover. As soon as he landed, he instantly turned, using the rubble to hide for a second. "Command squad, sound off and regroup on me."
As twenty infantry-style Chitauri began to concentrate on McIntyre's position, his command squad opened fire from nearby, regrouping quickly as they moved through shattered buildings and across broken streets at speed. The Heavy Gunners also began to make their presence known to an increased degree. With two assigned to every four-man fire team, the Heavies were armed with mortars, Gatling guns, or rockets as opposed to rifles and automatics. As Sean peeked out from his cover, a mortar round wiped a cluster of eight Chitauri off the map while another four rockets shot up into a nearby Ripper's stomach. By the time the last one hit, the creature exploded in a wave of fire and gore.
McIntyre's eyes flicked to his HUD; similar strikes hit home in two more of the big uglies nearby, killing both within seconds.
For several long minutes, the Oh Damns lived up to their name, striking, moving, killing. It would've almost seemed like a cake walk, if not for the number of civilian bodies they could see strewn about nearly everywhere. It was very clear that these Chitauri did not discern soldier from civilian. To them, all of humanity was simply a sacrifice their species wished to offer to Thanos at his command.
All too soon, however, the Chitauri began to get their act together. Skimmers that had once flown about haphazardly began to pull back into the sky, gaining distance from the reigning fire of the Oh Damns, while the infantry types used their faster agility and speed to take the fight the newly arrived humans directly.
Strangely, this didn't equate to all situations. The Chitauri didn't seem inclined to enter buildings, whole or shattered, as often as the ODM's were, although they also didn't care about civilian casualties and mowed down anything in their way regardless. More than once, the ODMs entering a building simply brought down the wrath of the Chitauri on the civilians huddling within, forcing the soldiers into sharp defensive actions.
Yet even on the defensive, the drones the Orbital Drop Marines had so recently added to their load outs soon proved a great equalizer. More than one Chitauri was slain when rocket-propelled bullets came from around corners to pierce through their shields or bodies from seemingly nowhere, guided to them by the small machines that flitted around the rapidly expanding battlefield like hummingbirds tripping balls.
This didn't mean that the Chitauri were pushovers, however. They most decidedly were not. The alien invaders seemed to understand just as well as their human opponents did that the name of the game in an urban environment such as the one they found themselves in was Cover, Cover, and more Cover, with a large helping of giving and taking firing from as many different angles as you could with as much firepower as you could. There, the unending numbers of the Chitauri were a distinct advantage. More infantry were ferried through the dimensional doorway every minute, dropped off by convoys en masse to join the battle in the besieged city. More Rippers also arrived, replacing their earlier losses without issue. Inevitably, they began to spread out over the city, providing covering fire at levels that the ODMs just couldn't quite match. The newcomers still died to Heavy Gunner rocket fire, but as always they took a lot to kill.
The disproportionate odds began to take a toll on the Orbital Drop Marines after awhile, despite their better armor, use of tactics, and means of overcoming the Chitauri shielding technology. An energy strike hitting an elbow actuator would put it of action, leaving that soldier handicapped. A strike to a jetpack would destroy it, not only leaving that soldier with extremely diminished maneuverability, but often times burn and shrapnel wounds. Worst, a hit to the faceplate would punch right through, leading to array activation or death.
The Chitauri also turned out to be far stronger physically than normal humans, even those augmented by normal ODM power armor. One trooper discovered this fact, to his cost, in a somewhat dramatic fashion.
Trooper Kermit Laszlo, formerly of the Australian Marines, had just pulled away from a window right as return fire began to punish his former position. Falling back, he raced deeper into the partially wrecked high-rise he'd found himself in, hopping up and over a hole in the floor and under a loose girder. "This is Laszlo, I'm pulling back. I'll meet you all down on the second floor."
Hearing an acknowledgement from his sergeant, Laszlo had sent out one drone ahead of him, leaving another behind to watch the window. Seeing none of the Chitauri—which the troopers were calling Chitters for the moment until a better nickname could be voted on—coming after him, he'd moved out from the main room of the unit in the high-rise he'd been taking cover in. Moving through at a steady pace, he'd paused at the doorway leading out into the hall and opened the door slowly to let his drone out. Outside, the sounds of battle had continued, a distant cacophony contrasting quite disturbingly against the seemingly empty quiet of the apartment complex.
As the drone watched one way and he the other, Laszlo had moved out into the hallway, grateful that he hadn't been running into any bodies for once. He'd caught sight of the stairs and he raced towards them, eager to meet up with the rest of his team who'd already egressed from the battle-lines with the intention of making their way across to another building. The plan had been to draw fire to them and lead a group of Chitauri into the sights of their heavies, who'd already set up in that building. Now if we can get across without a Ripper spotting us that is a question. He'd thought.
As Laszlo had reached the stairs, the elevator door to one side chimed as it opened, shattering the silence. He'd skidded to a halt, raising his gun on instinct.
Before he'd been able to get a bead, the doors had burst open as a Chitauri trooper dove through, shoulder checking him into the ground. Laszlo had dropped his gun from the impact, and had reached for his assigned Asgardian dagger. He'd whipped it out and stabbed out, deep into the creature's chest.
Or at least, that had been the plan. Instead, the creature had grabbed his reaching arm just before his blade tip would've pricked its chest, twisted and turned to the side, and held the dagger-wielding hand against the ground as its other hand grabbed Laszlo around the neck and began to squeeze.
Instantly, emergency warnings had appeared on Laszlo's Heads-Up Display; the creature's grip strength alone threatened to warp the metal of his suit's neck plating.
Laszlo had tried to kick out, to struggle, only to discover his legs were out of position. Thinking quickly, he'd tried bucking the monster off, the Chitauri obligingly going over his head to crash spine-first on to the floor. Laszlo had then activated his jets, popping up off the ground and twirling in midair, hours of training paying off. He'd brought his leg around for a kick to the side of the alien's head, and the Chitauri had been sent sideways into a wall. Yet even that hadn't put it down, or seemingly phased it, as it had scrambled to its feet and raised a backup pistol of some kind. Laszlo hadn't been able to dodge, and several shots impacted his chest armor, slagging several segments.
A single shot had then rung out. A bolter round had flashed between Laszlo's legs to impact the alien in the lower abdomen, hurling it backwards with a cry of agony through its strange facemask.
Turning around, Laszlo had found another trooper kneeling at the top of the stairs. The man had nodding his head laconically to the previously embattled Laszlo. "Took a detour, did you?"
Small skirmishes such as that occurred throughout the combat zone, and they didn't always go the way of the ODMs. While their Asgardian-made weaponry gave them an edge, the sheer strength of the aliens made them a threat to regular troopers with only the Heavy Gunners being nearly immune to that threat. Worse, at times they were forced to defend civilians, of which there were still thousands having survived the initial slaughtering having hunkered down. These men, women, and children would do their best to hide, or try to get into the subway system, which could double as a bunker, but any move outside they made gave the Chitauri easy targets. The Subway wasn't one hundred percent safe either, as Rippers could easily be called upon to bomb an area heavily enough to breach down to the underground passages.
Through it all, Thunderbird and the other superpowered defenders were pretty much stuck out in the open the entire time, taking fire from the Rippers and skimmers at every turn. At the very least, their presence kept the Super-Skrull from headhunting the Orbital Drop Marines for easy sport.
However, Cortez had not made it back to the team. Instead, the former mutant-supremacist terrorist had been forced to completely retreat, her emergency medical array activating and pulling her back to Babylon in orbit. A stray Ripper blast had caught her in the hip and burned her arm and leg on that side before the emergency medical array had activated.
Thundra too was a little battered around the edges by now. While she did have about as much durability as Ben did when it came to kinetic and concussive forces, she lacked her paramour's ability to withstand intense heat, like the kind the energy bolts that the Chitauri's weapons generated. Thankfully, her armor, a stylized work of scale mail, had been forged by the Asgardians as a gift and had so far passed the test of battle against the aliens.
The Thing grunted as his ribs took another hit by a fist that looked as if it had come from Reed. He crashed into the wall opposite the building whose burning roof he'd just been sent through, then tumbled down a long slope of rubble to the ground. Once he'd come to a stop, he growled and immediately leapt upward, grabbing the lower jaw of a passing Ripper that had just been about to fire on his previous position. With a grunt of effort, he lifted his lower body up and kicked out hard with his feet, breaking the Ripper's jaw and causing the cyborg-monster to howl in agony and writhe around in midair.
The shaking and quivering still allowed the Thing to kick off the dying Ripper though, and back into the fight; Thunderbird and the Super-Skrull having been left alone for the moment. As he flew through the air, the Thing could make out the Apache warrior stumbling back, his face a mask of burns as the Skrull super soldier had just launched a bolt of extremely hot fire at him.
Before the Super-Skrull could finish his target off, the Thing crashed into his back, taking him to the ground. Knowing that trying to get the bastard into a chokehold would've been completely useless given his stretching powers, the Thing instead settled on pummeling his head as hard as possible from different angles. He and Reed had talked about such a thing at one point, and he knew from that discussion that the rubber-like durability of the Super-Skrull, if based on the brainiac's own powers, could be overcome if met with sufficient force often enough in quick succession. The concussive shocks, especially to a brain, would eventually do damage despite any sort of enhanced durability.
However, thanks to his flexibility, the Super-Skrull was still able to get a foot in between the two and kick the Thing off him.
The alien super soldier then nearly lost that leg when Thunderbird's hatchet came down. The Super-Skrull's reflexes saved the limb, but the strike still sliced a deep gash in his lower leg despite that. He continued the recoil into a roll, dodging another slash from the hatchet. After blocking another swing with his Thing-like arm, his face sets into a strange mix of supercilious sneer and pain. "You will never beat me primitive! I am the finest example of the Skrull shape-shifting ability in the universe. I have been trained by the finest warriors of—"
"—Shut yer trap!" The Thing snarled, bringing around a chunk of debris into the alien's side with enough power to force him to use his stretching powers. His body elongated immensely under the weight of the impact, and in that moment the Thing charged forward, grabbing him around the middle and hopping up off the wall down to the streets below. "You arrogant pricks think you can just come over here and walk all over us! Think we'll just roll over? You better think again!"
With a roar of fury, the Super-Skrull tossed Ben into a nearby wall while still in mid-air, then raised his Thing-like hand to grab the hatchet from Thunderbird as it came at him the moment he hit the ground. The cement beneath them cracked, then shattered, as did many of the walls around them for several dozen blocks in every direction, any remaining windows exploding from sonic boom caused by the two opposing forces crashing into one another.
The Super-Skrull might've ultimately been stronger than Thunderbird, but he'd in a disadvantageous position and was only able to use one hand to block the incoming strike hatchet. Said hatchet, like Thundra's armor, had been forged in Asgard, and while it couldn't quite break through his arm's stone-like skin, it certainly stung like all blazes.
Speaking of Thundra, in blocking Thunderbird, the Super-Skrull left himself completely open to the interdimensional traveler's strike. Her weapon's chain wrapped around his neck from behind, tugging him away from the flagging Thunderbird if not able to choke him. Then, the Thing was on him again as well, pummeling his head once more over and over and over. Teeth grit near to cracking, the Super-Skrull roared as he pulled his head and neck out from under Thundra's weapon, punching back, lashing out all in all directions with an enlarged fist at the end of a whip-like arm. This smashed Thundra into the building behind the group while knocking Thunderbird off his feet and skidding down the road to crash into a car that had since become nearly flattened.
For a moment, the Apache warrior could only blink, dazed. Shaking his head to clear away the dancing stars filling his vision, he felt one of his hands become wet.
Looking down, to his horror, Thunderbird realized his hand had sunk into the chest of a corpse as he'd tried to right himself. The body was that of a young boy, seemingly thrown loose from the smashed car, the back of his head caved in and his neck bent at an unnatural angle. The dead, empty expression on the boy's face, he couldn't have been more than twelve, stared into Thunderbird's soul, and John Proudstar absolutely lost it.
Pulling back his non-bloodsoaked hand, Thunderbird hurled his Asgardian-forged hatchet down the street towards the Super-Skrull. As the alien super soldier batted that weapon aside, the mutant warrior pulled a second hatchet from its sheath behind his back, charging forward with an Apache warcry on his lips. "GRAAAAAAA!"
The Super-Skrull barely had time to punch the Thing out of the way for the umpteenth time before Thunderbird's hatchet was coming at him again. This time he didn't have the speed necessary to interpose his shifted Thing-like arm between them, and the strike caught him in the chest. His last ditch effort to evade the attack, shifting his torso to rubber to bend it away, allowed him to survive with a shallow cut, but it more than enough to cause the Super-Skrull to fall back in shock, blood oozing from the wound.
An equally deadly slice to the throat followed, one the Super-Skrull just barely got his neck out of the way of in time, stretching upper torso back and away from the strike. The next instant, the Super-Skrull whipped his head forward in a massive headbutt, forcing Thunderbird to block with the side of his hatchet. To the Super-Skrull's shock, the weapon didn't break, and instead of breaking through and killing his opponent his attack simply sent the axe-wielding human backward a few yards. The headbutt hitting the hatchet had also caused the alien soldier's head to ring, the internal damage helped along by the numerous blows he'd already been taking from the Thing.
Reaching to the side, the Super-Skrull grabbed up a car, lifted it up, and smashed it lengthwise into Thunderbird right as he'd been racing back for more. The improvised bat slammed the man into a building on the far end of the street. At the same time, a Ripper swooshed down from on high and fired, bombarding the same three story house that Thunderbird had been knocked into. The entire thing collapsed onto the Apache warrior, who could only cry out, enraged, as he found himself buried under rubble too heavy for him to lift alone.
Before Thundra or the Thing could attempt to step in and continue the fight, the Super-Skrull twisted his body around to an extreme degree, winding it just like a spring, and then released the tension, rocketing away out into the city. As he flew through the air, the alien could only shake his head at the encounter he'd just experienced. These humans definitely play for keeps. Even so, with their leader now dead, this battle will surely turn against them, no matter how slowly. That being said, we still haven't even seen a trace of the Potter man or the avatar of the Phoenix Force that we had been ordered to keep watch for…
Back with the Thing and Thundra, the rocky member of the Fantastic Four finally managed to push himself out of the roof he'd smashed into. He took a moment to be thankful that at least his landing hadn't caused a collapse all around him like the building that Thunderbird was currently buried under. "You all right under there kid?"
"I am not a child, you hulking stone monument!" Thunderbird grumbled from where he was buried, having come back to himself from his moment of berserker fury. Thanks to the wonderful duo of his natural high durability paired with his armor, the Apache warrior hadn't been all that badly hurt, although he did now sport a cut to one cheek that had come from some bit of shrapnel that had astonishingly been traveling fast enough to cut into his skin. "Get me out of here!"
"Thundra, would you get him out of there? If we don't keep that asshole in play, he's going to go around wiping out our Oh Damns like fish in a barrel," the Thing ordered more than asked, causing his girlfriend to scowl, but nod.
Of course, she then had to suddenly dodge away as another Ripper moved into position directly above them for a moment and unleashed a barrage just as dozens of skimmers fired at both her and the Thing at the same time. "Dammit!"
Still more skimmers appeared, and then a second Ripper, each and every one laying down unending fire with their green energy bolts. "I second that! Sorry Thunderbird, you're gonna to have to get yourself out there pal!"
With that, the Thing leaped skyward, a punch taking one of the Rippers in the underside of the stomach, sending it even higher into the air, and not under its own power either. Coming down, the Thing landed as lightly as he was able on a still standing building nearby, leaping away right as it started to topple. Reaching out, he grabbed onto the edge of a passing skimmer, the vehicle immediately beginning to roll as it was thrown off entirely by the sudden addition of his weight. A moment later, all three of the skimmer's occupants were hurled clear, and the Thing scrambled up the wing he'd grabbed until his hands could reach the center of the thing, where he was able to haul himself forward and grab the controls.
Wrapping his hands around what appeared to be two joysticks, he zoomed through the swarm above where Thundra and Thunderbird still were, looking more to disrupt them than anything else. Putting his piloting skills to good use, he took a moment to link up to the Oh Damns' combat net. "Yo Sean, I don't wanna jog your elbow or nothin', but how are things going on your end? And do any of your troops have eyes on that Super-Fucker?"
"We're holding our own Ben, for the moment. Our Heavy Gunners being so maneuverable and able to fit into some of the destroyed buildings helps a lot against the Rippers. They're laying down a massive amount of fire though, and I mean, a-fucking-lot," Sean reported brusquely. ". Some of the civilians have been scared out of their hidey-holes too, and I've got men trying their damnedest to protect them. But that makes us even more vulnerable. I'm losing troopers, even in the best case scenarios. We're down fifteen men already. Nine mission killed, six dead."
The Thing nodded gravely. Maybe Potter had slightly underestimated things here? The numbers those Chitauri fucks are bringing through those damn portals is insane.
But then, a much-appreciated voice came in over the same command line. "This is Storm. I have arrived at a nearby base. There is a large private airport in the vicinity where we have set up an aid station. I will begin teleporting civilians out of Paris now."