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[/center][right][b]Interactions: [/b]   Who is the Heal Stealing SOB? [@Blizz] Team Aggro
[code]Elysium Island (Team Aggro)[/code][/right][hr]

Sully cracked his knuckles as the squad was teleported onto Elysium Island. He had given more preparation for this one moment right here than anything in his life, like, upwards to two and a half hours of planning. Sully righted his cowboy hat, cleared his throat, and…he needed a quick refresher. He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and reread through the spiel, mumbling under his breath as the other teams grouped up and marched off. He tucked the paper away. Right. Now was his time to shine. Sully cleared his throat, pointed a finger in the air, and—“Alright, no speech,” said Ruby. A little croak eked out of Sully’s throat as his finger fell limp, Ruby inadvertently clamping down on the rousing speech he had prepared for the troops, his shoulders dropping as he deflated. He had transcribed that whole speech off of Youtube. It had taken multiple rewatches. All of his data, wasted.

And then machine guns started popping, shit started exploding, and he ducked for cover.

Little bits of mansion rained down on his back like the fragments of artillery shells as the high pitched ringing in Sully’s ears began to balance out. He blinked rapidly, the blindness from Jess calling down the fucking sun to nuke the mansion slowly fading away and revealing the destruction before them, spots of colorful lights still dancing in his vision as his stomach dropped. Sully had heard about Greenwood’s past run-in with the haters around St. Portwell since joining them, but his experiences with them had mostly been kicking it around a campfire, getting stoned, and listening to bad music from the nineties. Even in his one actual altercation with Greenwood at his back Sully had been too busy getting his ass kicked to ever really pay attention to how they operated, but he’d always assumed it was a little more…plucky, lighthearted hijinxs. 

Like, even with Das Sonnerad he’d been under the idea that, with the exception of James defending himself against a neonazi prick, 8th Street had done the wetwork while Greenwood had been going around putting bananas in tailpipes and little sleeping nazi hands in glasses of warm water. Sully blinked away the stars, thinking that the mostly destroyed mansion would suddenly be rebuilt as he stopped imagining things. He wiped his eyes. Nope, still fucked. His breath quickened. Okay, okay, okay, so Jess had just orbital striked a building full of rich people eating cocktail shrimp and playing hide the sausage.  Cool, cool, cool, okay, they were probably all bad and working with neonazis and child soldier mafias and there definitely wasn’t, like, a single, innocent cleaning lady or cook in the bunch. Sully gave a sniffled grunt as he stifled the urge to cry. 

[color=goldenrod]“[i]Whaddafuckkkk, whaddafuckkkkkk…[/i]”[/color] hissed Sully. What the fuck was he doing here? He was just some dumbass with a sippy cup.  He couldn’t drop nukes. [color=C67C12]"Come on, [b]Aggro![/b] You bastards wanna live forever?"[/color] Yeah, Leon, man, actually that sounded great! Sully watched as Kenshiro and Drake did some supercombo and dusted a whole buncha zombies. Sully couldn’t do that shit, man! He could toss water on somebody’s crotch and make it look like they pissed themselves, maybe splash a little lava around and [i]oh great there’s a fucking lava giant so he’s even useless there [b]COME ON, MAN! WHADDAFUCK!![/b][/i]

"Sully! Olivia! Somebody! Bring your asses over here!"

Hearing his name pulled Sully out of his shock, his head whipping over towards Ruby’s voice to see that Jess was half-cooked. HIs brain chalked up its hands, grabbed ahold of the still rings, and did a couple of backflips to draw up the conclusion that, nah, Greenwood weren’t actually way too extreme for him after all and that the mansion was just a monster closet full of zombies, primordials, and Wish dot com mobsters. Jess was his friend, she needed help, and only Sully could help her. Well, only Sully or Olivia. Nobody else. Well, one of the Amara clones probably knew first aid. So only Sully, Olivia, Amara clone, plus maybe Ken had a weird frog that could also heal. Okay, so  only Sully, Olivia, Amara clone with a medkit, anime frog, oh, and Leon had some goop too, so really, it was only Sully, Olvia, Medkit Amara, Nurse Frog, Leon’s Hot Mom’s Goop, and that was it. 

That was all that could save Jess. 

Nothing else.

Not one more thing.

Sully grabbed the Soakem Mk V , rolled onto his back, and started pumping hard, building up the pressure needed to deliver the perfect sniper blast of heal juice straight to Jess. He rolled back onto his stomach, tucked the massive super soaker around one of Stormy’s barriers, and steadied his aim. Locked in. He squeezed the trigger and a fart of air came out. Sully cursed, realizing the elixir had disappeared,  and rolled back over. In one sloppy motion that got his shirt drenched with elixir he filled the chamber back up with the Chalice, pressed in the plastic stopper, rolled over once again, and—

[color=goldenrod][b]“Oh come the fuck on!”[/b][/color] bellowed Sully.

He punched Stormy’s barrier as some nerd in—what was that, a bunny mask or some shit?—jumped out of nowhere, chucked a healing stick into Jess, and then jumped back into nowhere after firing off a bunch of sick shots from a bow and arrow. Utterly defeated, was about to roll behind his barrier as a cobwebbed covered light bulb flicked on in his head. If video games had taught him one thing, it was that the undead were allergic to health potions. Shifting up to a knee, Sully unleashed a streaming, high powered torrent of elixir over the killing fields, letting out a feral yell as zombie after zombie after zombie got a little wet. The yell died off into a whimper as Sully, utterly defeated, rolled back behind his barrier. Was he just cursed to wait for someone to almost die before being useful? 

No! He had one more hidden technique! Clapping his hands loudly, Sully started up a cheer for his boy. Nothing made another man push harder than the fighting spirit given to him by a pack of cheerleaders rooting him on and, well, with all of Sycamore’s cheerleaders dead or missing in action it fell on Sully to carry on the legacy of the pom pom.

[color=goldenrod]“L! E! Ooooooouhh,”[/color] Sully realized they were wearing masks for a reason. He pivoted with a clap clap, stick ducked safely behind his barrier as he cheered. [color=goldenrod]“F! F-U! Eff who!? Zombie nazis! F! F-U! Eff who!? Magma bitches! F! F-U! Eff who…”[/color]

And so on until, hopefully, someone got shot or third-degree lava burns, utterly unaware that in all of the chaos someone already needed him, a small path cut clear between Sully and Liz by Jasper's painted automaton.