Apogee didn't hesitate to jump into action, smashing into the bad guys like a bad tempered hurricane with a bone to pick. Volt couldn't help but wince at the carnage she wrought amongst them, bones smashed, arms broke, faces rearranged, it was the sort of mess a bull in a china shop would be proud of. The men were picking themselves up now though, and starting to regroup. Wouldn't be long before they retired their assault rifles and broke out with the heavy gear, and even Apogee couldn't stand up to a sustained grenade assault, at least not without earning her self a bit of a kicking in the process. No, now was time to send in the second wave while the squaddies were still off-foot, but for some reason Emmanuel was hanging back, maybe he'd never faced men as well trained and armed as these, and was taking a moment to gear himself up to the task. [I]Reckon yer gonna have tae do this ane yersell, Tommy-Boy. Like yer old Da always says, best to strike while the irons hot.[/i]

Volt threw himself down the corridor, snarling some inanity like a madman. [i]Better snarling than greeting, ah reckon.[/i] He would have preferred to stay as far from those military sorts as possible, sniping them from afar. Enhanced strength, speed and durability was all well and good, but it stand up much under sustained fire from high powered rifles. The problem was that Apogee was good and tangled with the goons now, and any shot he fired off would run the risk of hitting her, and taking out their tank with an inadvertent stray shot was not part of his grand plan. So mixing it up old school was the only way forward. 

The Lightning-Slinger had fought these types before, St George's Men-At-Arms had mostly been comprised of ex-army types who seemed to have no problems laying their hands on serious military hardware, and he'd discovered only one sure fire way of taking them down. Strike em' hard and strike em' fast, like an act of God. Like a lightning bolt. So it was for this reason that he smashed shoulder first into the back of one of the men taking aim at Apogee, the gun man knocked careening from his feet. 

Volt didn't even spend the time it would take to watch the goon hit the floor before spinning on his heel, throwing a fist into the throat of a second foe, the blow hitting the man's unprotected neck like a meat hammer tenderising some steak, more luck than skill really. This gun man also hit the ground, but the rest of the goons were starting to realise that Apogee wasn't the most immediate threat now, three swinging to aim their rifles at the Lightning-Slinger. Volt never gave them a chance to fire before diving at them, arms outstretched to catch all three in his grasp. The four were borne to the ground in a confusion of tangled limbs, the Scotsman dimly aware that maybe he could say something funny and witty now to put the rest of the men off their guard. What his battle muddled mind settled for though, screaming it at the top of his lungs as he wrestled with his three foes, was neither funny nor witty, perhaps a touch stereotypical considering were he was from and definitely used in the wrong context seeing as he was trying to stop a prison riot. 

[b]“FREEEEEDOOOOOM!”[/b] He roared.

[i]Yer a fecking eejit, Tommy-Boy.[/I] he thought to himself.