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(Oh, right, there's other people at the tailor shop. Just pretend this is all happening before that other bit.) Mario strokes his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I could whip something up, though as a nanobot colony you could probably make your own cos...tume." He places his head in his palm as he realizes too late what he's suggesting. "Well, so much for that sale, though, if you're not sure what sort of costume to make, I'd be happy to design something for you. You're not the first superhero to be able to create their own costume using technology, so I've even got a program that can download the design straight to your memory, so you won't need to practice generating it. Feel free to use my computer to do any research you need on fashion, it's in the back, you can't miss it."
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Oct 23, 2015 17:48
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Firewall Watching the teenager do her work, Firewall broke off, looking at the various artifacts. Museums were cool, I mean, he didn't have the smarts to actually figure out what a lot of this poo poo did, but having it explained to him was interesting at least.Still, the fact was, if anything was magical, every two-bit villain would probably want to get their hands on it. Rolling his shoulders, he looked around the room, trying to see if anyone was looking particularly villainous, probably not, but it didn't hurt to make sure.
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Oct 23, 2015 22:21
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Stormcrow "Let's go to Greystone. If we're there first we get first call on things, don't we?" Luke answers Groo, his grin visible as his mask covers just down to his nose. "Besides, we should make sure we're there before the kid before she puts up emo band posters everywhere, or whatever." Will drive everyone to Greystone in his Civic assuming everyone is ready to go. Should I roll to find parking?
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Oct 23, 2015 22:27
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Nightwitch "Hah! I like you, Professor Park. You're just the right degree of smug. Comes with the diploma, right? Hey, I'm gonna swipe some of this graphite dust here, it looks sufficiently pure. I don't know squat about Phoenician laser tech, but magic I can check for - at least any artifacts sufficiently enchanted enough that the etheric matrix hasn't dissipated." Heedless of the spectacle she's making, Nightwitch promptly sits down in the middle of the room, crossing her legs and using a few pinches of powder to inscribe a small circle on the floor, the purloined graphite sitting in a small pile in the center. Various letters in John Dee's 'angelic script' are added as she hums tunelessly. To the Professor she explains in an aside - unable to resist showing off that, yes, she's got some chops on this particular topic - that the ritual she's using is actually adapted from a Golden Dawn ritual that was in use before Crowley joined up, that some of the sacred geometry involved stems originally from Pythagoras' discoveries after his exposure to the Elusinian Mysteries. "Crowley's obsession with Tibetan mysticism influenced basically everyone that came after him, but the jackass that taught me hated the stuff. I think he had some kind of beef with the Dalai Lama, or something." The circle seems to pulse faintly with a soft silvery light, and nightwitch reaches down to grab a pinch of graphite. "This is the part that sucks," she confides, "but the thing about magic is, ain't nothing free, right?" She tilts her head back, covering her mouth and nose with her scarf while sprinkling the powder over her open eyes, trying hard not to blink, and holds that position for a few seconds before dropping her head and muttering something along the lines of "ow ow ow gently caress ow that stings ow." Tears fall as her body tries cleaning out her eyes, and then Nightwitch draws a deep breath, wipes away the ritual circle with a cloth, and stands. "Ow. If you ever wondered why so many magicians wear glasses it's 'cause of crap like that. Ow. Okay, now lemme take a look here..." http://orokos.com/roll/336682: 1d100 28
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Oct 24, 2015 02:35
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As Nightwitch's vision clears, the first thing she notices are the glowing runes lining the room, most likely Atlantian by their appearance. They flare up momentarily, and she can feel them probing the magic she'd just woven, but as they determine its nature, they calm down. It appears they're only there to stop dangerous magic. The other professors seem to take notice of them during the flare-up, so it seems they became visible to the naked eye at that time. Professor Park is quick to explain. "I see you noticed our little safeguard. The former head of the department, Professor Konstantinou, was a superhero, the Mystic Maestro. We didn't find out until, well, after what happened, but it explains why the Mystic Maestro volunteered to provide us with such thorough defenses against magic." Aside from the warding runes, Nightwitch notices a few other magical signatures among the recovered items. First is a minor trinket, essentially a flashlight. Professor Park explains that it was likely a component in a late Phoenician laser weapon, which used magically-powered light sources with a series of advanced focusing lenses to produce a deadly beam, replacing their old system of battery packs (known commonly as "Baghdad Batteries", after the first discovered examples of the design, though those specific batteries were constructed centuries later by the Ptolemaic Kingdom, who adapted Phoenician laser technology into the Lighthouse of Alexandria's devastating death ray, though they failed to replicate the Phoenicians' handheld laser weapons). Given that laser rifles already exist in the modern world, the professor judges the risk to be low, because despite the fact that the item would remove the need to replace power cells in a laser rifle, the number and quality of the focusing lenses necessary to narrow the beam, combined with those lenses' fragility, makes it an impractical target. The second item is an even more recent artifact, a fully-functional laser pistol from the final decades of the Phoenician empire. By then, they'd managed to increase the initial power and focus of the power source's light, allowing for fewer focusing lenses. Due to its completed state, Professor Park tags it for shipment to a secure, government-controlled facility, explaining as he does so. "The UN announced this morning that they're forming a task force to find candidates to take up the superhero mantle after the recent losses, and artifacts like this one will help equip the poor saps that get selected. Good find." The final artifact, sitting off on a corner of the table, glows much more strongly than the others. Nightwitch can't determine the exact nature of the magic, but it's powerful. The artifact is a sealed vase, though there appears to be no way to open it. There's no seam for the lid, and only the urn's weight reveals that it's not a solid mass of terra cotta. Professor Park is quite wary when the item is brought to his attention. "Okay, looks like we'll keep this one with us when we send the other stuff off. Nothing good ever comes from heavily enchanted containers. They're typically used to seal ancient evils or monsters, the best-case scenario is a genie, and given the way genies twist wishes around, that's not exactly ideal. This is the most magically-secure location in the midwest, so while it's probably inevitable that some twist of fate's going to undo whatever seal's on this thing, the best chance of keeping it secure is keeping it here. I'll call security, tell them to get extra guards on-duty until we can get this thing away from us. If only all of our best magical scholars hadn't also been superheroes. I hate to say it, young lady, but you may be the most well-versed magician on Earth right now. Well, as far as heroes go, anyway. Heh, if those rumors about Lord Calamitous are true, maybe he'll swoop in and deal with whatever gets released." Park laughs ruefully at the thought of the self-appointed emperor of Lithuania saving the day for once. "So, is that all of them, then? Thanks for coming by. It might not have been much, but getting these magical items sorted should at least make things marginally safer. It's been proven that thieves are less likely to strike after an exhibit's been analyzed, they assume the best stuff's already been pulled, so they figure it's not worth the risk. Anyway, if there's anything else you need, let me know. Otherwise, have a good one and drive safely."
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Oct 24, 2015 07:00
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Nightwitch "I saw the Mystic Maestro in action once," Nightwitch muses. "He seemed like a good sort. Better'n the jackass I had teaching me, anyway." As Park mentions something about her being well-versed, the teenager visibly winces; "Man, I hope not. We're all in a lot of trouble if I'm the expert. Listen, Professor - if anything comes up, you know who to call, right? Our liason is Captain Houlihan; once we get settled we oughta be able to get you a direct line. Drop us a line if you need anything, and if you come across any hints about where the Maestro's old headquarters is, give me a heads-up, okay? Never met a magical superhero yet that didn't have a bunch of nasty junk locked up behind wards and such, but wards need refreshing every once in a while, you know? Besides, if I'm it for magical defenses I'm gonna need a lot more study time. Take care." She wipes the last bit of mystically-charged powder from her eyes and heads over to Firewall, muttering, "Hey, strong silent type. Can we get the hell out of here? 'Most well-versed magician on Earth,' yeah, like I need that kinda pressure..."
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Oct 24, 2015 08:06
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(Okay, seems like everyone's ready to move on.) Later, at Graystone Hall... The two groups of heroes coincidentally arrive at their new base of operations at the same time. The curb in front of the building is clear of cars, allowing for easy parking. Inside, the laundromat is currently empty, the coin-operated machines silent. A telenovella is playing on a television mounted near the ceiling in one corner of the room. While the owners don't appear to be present, a security camera can be seen hanging from the ceiling, monitoring the area for them. Almost directly beneath it is a doorway, restroom signs can be seen on the wall just past it. The men's room looks dingy, but almost as though it were deliberately left that way, a meager effort to preserve the atmosphere of the historic club that once occupied the building. Spray-painted epithets and slogans adorn the walls, and a large anarchy symbol has been scratched into the paint of the far stall's door. It's easy enough to find the loose wall tile, since the heroes were told what to look for, and the door to the bathroom audibly locks once the password is entered. The stall shakes, and then begins to descend with a mechanical hum. While the stall is one of those larger stalls, for the disabled, it's still a tight fit with seven people, and it feels like entirely too long a wait before the stall door swings open to reveal the base. Interestingly, the base has red brick walls, eschewing the more common metal. Posters for Black Flag, Dead Kennedys, Negative Approach, and other hardcore punk bands are hung at varying angles throughout. In the main chamber, a large "crime computer" (the colloquial name for the powerful supercomputers used by most superhero teams) sits against one wall, with an equipment fabricator next to it. Five communicators already sit in the output tray, queued up, but never used by their owners. Five lockers are positioned on the other side of the crime computer, still closed with combination locks. They almost certainly contain the personal effects of the Bogus Heroes. The rest of the room is dominated by a sitting area, a couch and a few comfortable-looking chairs around a coffee table. Five mugs sit empty on the table. Off to the side, a phone hangs from the wall, the speed dial entries contain nothing but food delivery. Pizza, Chinese, Jimmy John's, it's becoming clear how the Bogus Heroes ate while in the base. Near the opposite wall is a small counter, the most important feature of which is the coffee machine sitting atop it, with various additions, such as sugar and powdered creamer, scattered around the remaining surface space. Past the sitting area, on the opposite end of the room from the crime computer, stands a pool table, a set of cues on the wall behind, between two of the doors leading away. Six doors line the walls around the pool table. The one in the center of the rear wall is unmarked, likely leading to additional facilities, but the other five each bears a nameplate. Johnny, Mike, Billy, Tom, and Sally. Looks like if anyone wants to spend the night, they'll need to clear out one of the Bogus Heroes' bedrooms. (Okay, you're free to explore the base for a little bit, get familiar with the area.)
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Oct 27, 2015 20:38
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Stormcrow Luke tugs on one of the lockers. "This feels weird," he confides in everyone. "Like we're going through last effects. I guess we are, in a way. How do you even have a base this long under such a public place without anyone noticing?" He wanders around a bit, leaving the Crime Computer untouched, figuring one of the resident geniuses or nanobot combines would be better with it. He finally comes to the bedrooms, looking at each of the nameplates, and sighs. One Sign of the Cross later, and he goes into Billy's to start collecting and organizing everything into neat piles. Maybe one day he can send them back to Billy's family? Either-way, he's claimed that room. Billy's property is eventually piled together in the hall outside of the rooms, and Luke is back in the sitting area, fishing a bottle of Maker's Mark out of his backpack, drinking it and willing to pour for whoever may ask. Maybe even the minor if she asks right.
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Oct 27, 2015 22:03
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Groo the Eternal The place was a little dingy, not to mention the solemn atmosphere of standing in a dead super-team's base, but it was a thousand times better than sleeping in a homeless shelter or in some abandoned factory. He cleans out Johnny's room pretty quickly, leaving the pile next to Billy's stuff. It was depressing work, but it wasn't the first time Groo had cleaned out a dead man's room. Or the hundredth time, for that matter. After grabbing a glass of Maker's Mark with a nod of thanks, he takes a stroll over to the crime computer, then half-stumbles as the parasite blasts him with a series of mental images too quick and blurred to parse. It did that sometimes; it couldn't communicate with him through anything but pictures and vague feelings. If it was "talking" this fast, it was either excited or angry, and he had an idea it was the first. Probably the matter fabricator; it was always trying to get him to build things. Things that tended to work pretty well until they unexpectedly and often explosively failed. "Maybe later," he muttered to himself, then turned and motioned to the unmarked door with his free hand. "What do you think's back there? Instruments, an armory, maybe just a washing machine?"
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Oct 27, 2015 22:41
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Prototype "Well, this is morbid," Valerie agrees, pacing around the room uneasily. Inheriting this place felt like stepping into dead men's shoes. Easy to think of all the fallen heroes as some kind of distant, unknowable figures when you'd only seen them on the news; harder when you got to see what they'd left behind. "I'll ask Captain Houlihan if anyone knows their next of kin. Someone might really want all this." Groo's question about unmarked door is a welcome distraction. "Let's find out..." she says, making a beeline for the door.
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Oct 27, 2015 23:12
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Billy's effects paint a fairly thorough picture of the man known to the world as Johnny Karma's bass guitarist. Along with his bass guitar, his room was filled with Ramones paraphernalia and albums. On his nightstand was a copy of Stephen King's The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon, with a bookmark about three-fourths of the way in. A few bits of miscellaneous machinery was strewn about, spare parts for the guitar he used to fight crime (as opposed to the normal one he left behind), which was fitted with a special high-tech amplifier that allowed it to produce concussive sound waves. The books and movies he had in his room were mostly horror and suspense, and aside from the Ramones and other punk bands, he also had a fair number of classic rock albums in his music collection. The television screen in the room turns out to be affixed to the wall, likely a standard part of each of the living quarters. The beds, too, turn out to be fixtures rather than movable frames. Naturally, it's a king size mattress. Also in each room was a modest full bath, so each of the band members could have privacy. Johnny Karma's room was covered with assorted punk rock posters and framed newspaper clippings, all stories relating to the Bogus Heroes' exploits. A sizable comic book collection is found with the more typical items, and this is matched by all the superhero movies he has on BluRay. A Wii U is connected to his television, with the jewelcase for a game called "Wonderful 101" next to it, looks like it's about superheroes, too. Johnny Karma, as everyone in Detroit knows, always played it cool about being a superhero, and even once shrugged off a reporter's questions about a time he teamed up with Patriot Man, saying it was no big deal. Given that the related newspaper story was hung right above Johnny's bed, it appears that his words didn't match his opinions. Given his superpower was his uncanny luck, which allowed him to perform feats no normal person could survive, it may be particularly sobering to consider that not even he could escape the fate that befell all of Earth's heroes. Behind the unmarked door is a short hallway, clearly making room for the bedchambers on either side, leading to a short staircase, explained by the much higher ceiling of the room at the bottom of it. Not only did the Bogus Heroes have a fully-equipped workout room, but it even has an indoor pool, plus both wet and dry saunas. It's becoming clear where the money from their album sales that didn't go to charity wound up. Beyond the pool is a stage, covered in amplifiers and other equipment, likely meant for practice and rehearsal. One must assume the base has been thoroughly soundproofed, if the Bogus Heroes were playing at full volume. Sadly, it doesn't appear that the Bogus Heroes had any sort of combat simulation device like the Z-People's infamous Crisis Chamber. On one end of the room, opposite the saunas, is a supply closet filled with cleaning supplies and other sundry necessities. A hastily scribbled note is taped to the inside of the door: Need TP. -Mike EclecticTastes fucked around with this message at 02:28 on Oct 28, 2015 |
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Oct 28, 2015 00:06
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Nightwitch "If anyone tries stealing this," Nightwitch says, pointing to a poster of the album art for the Dead Kennedys' Fresh Fruit For Rotting Vegetables, "I will be very cross. Just sayin'." When your family spends most of their time listening to Zamfir and Enya, you learn to appreciate punk. "Anyways, I wouldn't stress too much about their effects if there's no next of kin to be found. These guys were punks. 'Stuff' isn't really the highest priority for folks like that. Me, I think they'd be laughing like hell to know there's someone squatting in their pad." Having said that, she goes to make a start on cleaning out Sally's room. No matter what she says, she's not just going to sit back and let one of the dudes start pawing through the girl's room. It would be rude.
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Oct 28, 2015 02:16
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Sally's room is decorated much the same as the others, her drum kit dominating one of the corners. A movie poster for Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains hangs above the bed. It's signed, "To my young fan. Stay original, and don't put out! -Diane Lane". A copy of the film is found among her effects, unsurprisingly. Known around Detroit as being a vocal feminist, Sally's room also contains a number of scholarly texts on the subject. She also had a scrapbook containing what appear to be various threats sent to her, paired with arrest reports, presumably for the person that sent the threat. Also found in her room is a calculus textbook with some half-completed homework between the pages for a Professor Harwick (a cursory search reveals him as a teacher as WSU) and a set of expensive film equipment, it seems that Sally was an aspiring filmmaker. Along with the many blank tapes, several are found with labels, each one bearing a date leading up to the day the band left to fight Dredlaxicor, going back about two weeks. An old VCR is hooked up to the television in the room. (In case anyone's confused by why it's there, the phrase "don't put out" is one of the most iconic things from Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains.  )
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Oct 28, 2015 02:37
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Firewall Calling entering the Greystone hall base morbid was understating it. As he headed into Tom's room to try and find some sort of information to call next of kin, he started sorting out various items. Dropping his bag on the bed he looked around for a tupperware container, or some form of bin to store all of Tom's stuff. If he couldn't find anything. Well, I guess he'd follow Nightwitch's lead here. Firewall knew nothing about punk really. Rock, sure, but punk wasn't really his thing. Headed out to the main hall, he grabbed a communicator and turned on the swipe text-to-speech functionality. Swiping on the keyboard a couple times, a monotonous voice came out, "Hello hero can anyone heat me?" Followed by a "Stupid swipe."
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Oct 28, 2015 02:49
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Space Man Not exactly gray as advertised. Then again, I'm not sure what I was expecting. Mike moved through the almost dreary open room towards the fabricator and communicators. He picked one up, fiddled with it a bit before pocketing it and moving towards the computer. After a few keystrokes, Mike pulled up any report he could on the Unity incident. There was something terrifyingly morbid in reading about your own demise. Cause Unknown. He didn't like that, not at all. Mike resolved to investigate this more another time. "Eerie cooincidence," Mike muttered, looking at the nameplate with his own name. He began carefully organizing and removing Bogus Mike's things from his room and placing them next to the rest with some reverence. He couldn't help but wonder if his family was doing the same with his things back home.
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Oct 28, 2015 04:00
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Nightwitch "Well, poo poo," Nightwitch mutters, "may as well bum myself out. Everyone else is doing it." Besides, there might be useful intel of some kind. She selects the final tape from Sally's collection and pops it in the VCR, and presses Play.
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Oct 28, 2015 04:32
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Tom's room was quite fitting of his "bad boy" image, the punk rock posters interspersed with Marilyn Manson and a variety of heavy metal bands. Occult texts and magical accouterments were scattered about haphazardly, evidence that Tom had likely been digging through them before he left, possibly looking for any edge he could find. His guitar is gone, which isn't surprising, as it was his magical focus. His personal belongings include mostly slasher flicks and similar grisly fare, though hidden among journals filled with various skull-related doodles is one filled completely with attempts at poetry. Overly flowery and emotional, it's almost painfully cliché, given his public persona. On his nightstand, his smartphone sits, untouched since the team left. Maybe he forgot it, or maybe he left it behind deliberately. Either way, he has two-hundred thirty six missed calls and over a thousand texts waiting for him. Mike's room, true to his role as the team's resident gearhead, is filled with technology, some functional, some less so. His keyboard is folded up, leaning against a wall. More spare parts for Billy's guitar are scattered about, along with parts for Sally's power armor. Unlike the rest of the band, Mike's posters are mostly for video games and those weird Japanese cartoons, the latter featuring giant robots of some sort prominently, with many involving a series titled "Macross 7". His books and movies are mostly sci-fi, fantasy, and other nerdy genres, though there are a number of gaps, as though someone had borrowed a bunch of them. In the middle of the room, a mannequin stands wrapped in toilet paper, spent cardboard tubes left at its feet like murder victims. With Halloween coming up, it's easy to infer what Mike was going for. A Playstation 4 and Xbox One sit neatly beneath the television, with a gap between them, as though a third console had been there. His game collection also seems to be one short. On the nightstand sit a 3DS and Playstation Vita, and left almost carelessly on the bed is a Thinkpad laptop in sleep mode, all three plugged into a surge protector on the floor. Taped to the top of the laptop is a note: Open the laptop. Password is: pL4n3T.D4nCe As Nightwitch presses play on the tape, the image focuses on Johnny Karma and the others gathered in the sitting area, in the main chamber. They're already in their costumes, a cross between punk leathers and something out of one of those eighties toy commercial cartoons. In contrast to their usual boisterous demeanor, their mood in the video is quite grim. Johnny's the first one to speak. "Okay, uh, yeah, Patriot Man filled me in on the plan, and... poo poo. It's not good, guys. He needs all hands on deck for this, but we're looking at pretty long odds. The Eternity Glove is powerful, probably the most powerful, well, anything any of us have ever dealt with. Stopping it, that's gonna take a lot. Professor Universe and Baron Weird put their heads together, think they've got a way, but..." Sally pipes up at this point. "Just spit it out, Johnny, we're grown-ups, we can handle it." Johnny sighs. "It's us. All of us. The device they made is going to take all of our combined power, and wills, to produce a force strong enough to oppose the Eternity Glove. In theory, it'll be destroyed, but, well, so will we." A dead silence fills the room, broken by an outburst from Tom. "That's crap, man! I didn't sign up for no suicide mission! There's gotta be some other way!" Billy's the first to argue. "These are the smartest men in the world we're talking about, here! The best we got at science and magic, don't you think if there were a better way, they'd have found it?" Mike takes Tom's side. "Well, what about Earth, huh? What'll happen when suddenly every superhero in the world turns up dead?" The conversation devolves into a shouting match between the three until Johnny yells, "ENOUGH!" As his bandmates quiet down, Johnny returns to his explanation. "Patriot Man told me we'd be okay. When the time comes, he can afford to send someone back, to tell everyone what happened. And, he said he called in a favor, that we don't have to worry about the guys that replace us getting overwhelmed or anything. I don't know what he meant, but he was pretty serious about it. Said he was 'just glad that reason prevailed' or something. I know, it's a messed-up situation, so, I won't force you guys to go if you don't want to. drat it, I just wish we had more time, some kind of advance notice. It's all happening so fast..." Billy's the first to respond. "Well, I'm going. I knew what I was getting into, what the risks were. I never really wanted to reach thirty, anyway. Might've had to get a 'real' job." Sally seconds the sentiment. "What kind of chickenshit losers would we be to quit now, when we're needed the most? I say we go in, and who knows, maybe that luck of yours'll find a way to save us." Mike's the third to throw in. "Ugh, fine, you guys would be lost without me, anyway. But, before we go, gimme a minute, I wanna type something up, in case anyone finds this place. Mr. and Mrs. D'Amico might just tell people, seeing as we won't need the place anymore." Billy laughs. "You think they might rent the place out? Wild, man. I bet Malice would love a chance to sleep in our own beds once we're toast." Billy refers, of course, to the Bogus Heroes' archnemesis, Malice Cooper (pending litigation from Alice Cooper may soon force the local supervillain to chance his name, though he's countering with a Fair Use defense). Tom remains silent through this exchange, silently agonizing over a decision he's clearly already made, but really, really doesn't want to admit to. With a frustrated growl, he say, "Okay, fine! I'll go with you, but only because this band sucks without me." As the Bogus Heroes come to an agreement, their mood lightens, if only slightly, as they move out to prepare for their last gig. Before the tape ends, the camera is turned to face Sally, who looks directly at the viewer. "So, there you have it, what will probably be the last known footage of Johnny Karma and the Bogus Heroes. Better get this poo poo on eBay. U-um..." Her voice cracks, as she begins to tear up, something that's likely happening to the rest of the band as well, now that they're out of each others' sight. "I-if you can, track down Melvin and Wanda Carmichael, they're here in Detroit. Mom, Dad, I'm sorry, but we did what we had to. I love you both, I know you didn't want me doing this, but it was what I wanted. But it's okay. I am okay." She smiles, and the tape ends.
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Oct 28, 2015 06:06
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Groo the Eternal Making another slow circuit of the room as he sips his drink, Groo pauses next to the pile of Billy's stuff and frowns. Bad enough to be dead, but it seemed cruel to have TGWLTG be the last thing you read before dying. At least it wasn't Gerald's Game, he thought with a shudder of revulsion. He wouldn't wish that book on the vilest villain. Turning back, he walks over to the crime computer. Might as well get a head start on figuring this thing out. Like any other senior citizen, he gave it a distrustful glare and started looking for a power button. Hopefully this thing would be easier to use than it looked.
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Oct 28, 2015 06:10
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Spaceman May as well see what this has to offer. Maybe they left some good intel behind. Typing slowly to be sure he input it correctly...pL4n3T.D4nCe... The Thinkpad screen glow lights his discerning eyes as Mike opens Mike's laptop.
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Oct 28, 2015 09:07
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Prototype "Oh sure, a private pool and a sauna," Val mumbles to herself as she explores the hideout. "Real punk." There's no bite to it, though. She'd run into the Bogus Heroes a couple of times back when she was on the job, seen them arriving at the last minute to kick rear end and save lives in style. They seemed to be having fun with it. And now they were gone. She makes her way back to the main room in time to lean in the doorway to Sally's room and watch the second half of the video Nightwitch has found. Which is even more of a gut punch, naturally. "Think I'll have that drink after all. Uh, you okay?" Ripley fucked around with this message at 22:33 on Oct 28, 2015 |
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Oct 28, 2015 22:29
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Despite Groo's unfortunate taste in literature, he has a fairly easy time with the computer. He's hardly approached it when the screen flickers to life. What seems like a facial scanner activates, the computer's monitor pulling up Groo's profile, as compiled by the police department mere hours ago. His identity apparently verified, the computer drops to a map of the region, flashing between locations picked up in various emergency service dispatch calls. Presently, it's mostly medical emergencies and petty crimes, nothing that would require superpowered intervention. Judging by a list in the corner of the massive screen that stores and scrolls through the reports, periodically filtering out the lesser calls, the worst crime in Michigan today was a convenience store robbery in Lansing. Fumbling through the crime computer's menus, Groo discovers a suite of forensic analysis programs, along with input devices built into the computer's frame, revealing themselves as each program is opened in turn. He also finds several comprehensive criminal databases, updated hourly from law enforcement agencies across the country. After extended fiddling, however, he still can't open the internet browser. Mike's laptop accepts the password given, revealing that Notepad had been left up, with a passage, presumably from the late hero, typed into it. Mike's technopathy is made obvious by the note's conversational tone and perfect spelling. Hey, if you're reading this, I guess we're all dead. Or maybe it's just me. If it's just me, then I guess there's no point reading the rest of this, this is only for if we're all dead. Anyway, if you're some crazy supervillain who busted in, go use the crime computer, I promise the base isn't wired to self-destruct if a known supervillain tries to use the computer. If you're civilian, man, Billy'd be pretty stoked, he was wondering if the D'Amicos would rent this place out. I guess just clean the place out, you can just give our stuff to the police department, they know who our families are. But, as I actually expect, you're probably another super, so, welcome to Casa de Karma. It'd be cool if you left the music posters up, but if you got a different motif, that's cool too. Enjoy the workout room, I designed it, you're welcome. Tom thought the saunas would be bad for our "image" or whatever but what kind of gym doesn't have a sauna? Anyway, you may as well keep all my junk, my folks won't want most of it. Give my keyboard to my dad, Michael Washington Sr., like I said earlier, the cops know who he is if you don't want to do it yourself. I just asked, the others say the same thing. Get them their personal stuff, like, Sally's got a bunch of tapes of us, maybe copy them, too, so all our folks can watch them. Oh, and she just said to give her parents the movie poster hanging on the wall, you'll see it. And our instruments, definitely get those to our parents. Well, except Tom's guitar, obviously, though he never got along with his parents, so it's probably no big deal that he took it with him. But, anyway, like, if you want any of our books or movies or games or whatever, keep them, we sure don't need them. Well, whatever. Hope you enjoy the base, don't go dying like we did. Hopefully the world hasn't been taken over by supervillains. Oh, and sorry there's probably nothing useful on the laptop, just stuff I used to program Billy and Sally's gear, but if you need an OS for a new weapon or power suit, feel free to mess with the source code if it saves time. Anything else important is stored in the crime computer. Well, later. The note ends. The Thinkpad's desktop is home to the usual program shortcuts, a number of video games, several programming and software design suites, and the note Michael just read.
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Oct 29, 2015 00:06
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Nightwitch Nightwitch is pinching the bridge of her nose, trying not to sniffle. Sniffling would be bad for her image as a Hard-Nosed Defender Of Humanity and like that. Besides, everyone expects the young girl to cry. She's so focused on Not Crying that Prototype's arrival goes unnoticed until she speaks, and the younger girl jumps a little. "The guy at the museum said I might be the most knowledgeable magical hero left on Earth," she answers in a very small voice. "If that's true, you know we're all pretty much hosed, right? That's gonna be us before long." She gestures at the screen, shaking her head and drawing a shaky breath. "So no, not really, but don't tell no one, huh? No sense bumming everyone out." She leans down, starts scritching The Dog, who seems not to mind the fact that no one's given him a name yet. "And I don't give a poo poo what she said, this stuff ain't going on eBay. I'll light people on fire if I gotta. Just for the record."
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Oct 29, 2015 01:49
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Firewall Picking up the various pieces of poetry, Firewall shook his head with a rueful smile. Hardcore punk rock indeed. The smile fell as he regarded the phone. Picking it up, he chacked the phone, seeing if it was locked by a password or not.
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Oct 29, 2015 02:09
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Tom's phone opens with a simple swipe, it's unclear whether he disabled the password or simply never used it. The missed calls are from a variety of different people, several of them clearly relatives, and the others might be siblings or cousins, or just friends of Tom's. They mostly came the day Laddy Liberty broke the news of what had happened, though quite a few arrived in the intervening days, particularly calls from his parents. There's even a missed call from Malice Cooper, the Bogus Heroes' archenemy. It's a little disconcerting, how easy it is to find a person's cell number these days. The text messages are from the same set of people, along with a number of local officials, journalists, and other people who'd been clearly reaching out to every hero in their Rolodex, hoping for a response that would never come. For every worried friend or relative wondering where Tom had gotten off to and why he wasn't picking up the phone, there was a police officer or reporter desperate to find just one glimmer of hope in a situation none of them had ever imagined. At the bottom of the list of missed calls, the first one to arrive, the caller was listed as "Johnny". He left a voicemail: "Hey, whoever's listenin', this is Johnny Karma and the Bogus Heroes, live in concert in the deepest, darkest rear end end of space anyone's ever seen! We figured since Tom forgot his freakin' phone, we may as well use it for one last gig! Shout-out to Infinitech for the quantum antennas! You guys ready to blow this cosmic freak's mind?! One, two, one-two-three-four!" They make it all the way through their first big hit, "Crime Doesn't Pay (And You Don't Even Get Laid)", before the phone cuts to static. (I figured there was no way that voicemail wasn't getting played, so I decided to save us all time by putting up the contents now.) EclecticTastes fucked around with this message at 06:21 on Oct 29, 2015 |
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Oct 29, 2015 06:17
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Space Man This is all starting on such a down note. Mike made his way back to the crime computer and set about making the arrangements other-Mike's note laid out. He tossed the note up onto the main screen for everyone to read before setting about the business at hand. "Nightwitch, what did you learn at the exhibit? Do we have any concerns there?"
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Oct 29, 2015 20:09
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Prototype "Secret's safe with me," Valerie says quietly. "If it helps, the others probably feel the same way. We may not be anybody's first choice to defend the city and fight for truth and justice and all - but we're all that's left, and if we don't step up, who else will?" Was that a good pep talk, or a really dumb thing to say? Yeah, probably dumb. "Let's see if anyone's managed to crash the crime computer yet," she says, stepping back into the main room.
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Oct 29, 2015 21:02
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Stormcrow Luke stands up after a little and shuffles over to the crime computer as well, joining with the others. "Had an idea. Can we use this thing to look up who might be likely to try a run on the museum stuff? Like maybe it has a record of who had stolen similar things. Look up artifacts or something. Maybe we can find out what we may have to deal with." He gives as reassuring a smile to the others as he can. He feels the somber mood as well.
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Oct 29, 2015 21:26
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The crime computer hums softly as it pulls up a list of those villains who would be interested in magical artifacts. When that list proves much too long to be useful, it begins paring down the less likely options based on dossier information. However, the process is slow, and will take a few hours to complete. In the meantime, it's very easy to locate the Bogus Heroes' next of kin, the map application has a shortcut for finding next of kin, a convenient, if morbid, feature. However, after a couple hours, when the team has gotten settled in, or as settled as they can be, given the circumstances, a pair of red lights on the sides of the crime computer flash, and a small siren goes off, as the map centers on a reported disturbance at the waterfront. It's the Outsiders, a group of disaffected youths with mutant superpowers. Details are scarce, however, so it's unclear which gang members are causing trouble, or why. A prompt appears on the screen: "Engage Teleport Pad? Yes/No"
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Oct 29, 2015 22:16
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Nightwitch "Yeah, someone's gotta do it, right?" The girl shrugs, adding, "If not us, who? Just, you know, sorta wish I was old enough to drink, is all." She gives a bitter little laugh, then starts organizing Sally's things. "I'll be out in a sec; I just want to pack some of this stuff up for her folks. Hey, could you tell whoever's clearing out Tom's old room that I'd like to go through some of his things in a while and see if there're any magical reagents or anything that we might be able to salvage? I don't think he'd want his gear to go to waste, and I'm short on supplies - and it's not like manticore blood or the ashes from a ritual fire or anything like that is going to have sentimental value to his folks. Could be stuff there we don't want getting out into the world at large unsupervised anyways." *** She can only focus on cleaning up the effects of a dead person for so long, however, so before too much longer she's back out in the common area, having salvaged a hot pot and a french press from someplace and using them to make a few cups of coffee. "There was one urn that looked like it was pretty juiced up," she tells Space Man - she actually kind of likes that name, not that she'd admit it - "and it's being moved into secure storage. There were some minorly enchanted objects too, but nothing worth stealing except for, you know, priceless antiquity's sake. I don't know if there was any sort of advanced tech or anything, that's not my field. The guy in charge, Professor Park? He seemed like a decent sort, I'm betting he'll keep us apprised if he finds anything worth worrying about." She's trying to push back the malaise that's settled on her, on all of them; Sally's words from the tape, 'What kind of chickenshit losers would we be to quit now, when we're needed the most?' ringing in her ears. She's a lot of things, but damned if she's going to be a chickenshit. Which is probably why, when the alert pops, she's among the first to stand and start looking for the teleport pad. "You know what'll make today suck less? Beating the crap out of some bad guys. Let's go do that."
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Oct 30, 2015 02:32
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Johnathan Doe Johnathan Doe, who is wearing what appears to be a costume of red and purple spandex with a green headband, listens to the conversation between the team, having nothing much to say. Seeing the alarm, however, he points out, "We believe the group called the Outsiders is disturbing the Waterfront. Is it our responsibility to interfere, using our new legal responsibilities?"
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Oct 30, 2015 02:45
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Groo the Eternal Groo was on the verge of asking Nightwitch or Doe to take a look at this thing, because if anyone was going to find the drat Internet browser it would be the kid or the robot, when the alert comes through. It was almost a relief; no more need to sit around trying to distract himself from thinking about the dead. He nods at Doe. "Yep. We go down there, maybe exchange a little witty banter, then we fight. It's been that way all through the ages." He glances to the others. "By the way, we could probably use a team name. Any ideas? I'd just go with 'The Replacements,' personally." He chuckles.
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Oct 30, 2015 03:00
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Nightwitch Nightwitch snorts. "The Island of Misfit Superheroes?"
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Oct 30, 2015 03:06
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Stormcrow "Ah hell," Luke breathes as the alarm goes off and he makes sense of the alert. He turns and rushes back to his bag, pulling out a flask from his bag and tucking it into one of his belt holders. "I wish I had a baseball bat or something. No, probably not really a good image for people to see a new hero smashing people with a slugger," he mutters to himself, returning to the team. "Ready," he nods, all nervous energy. This is it. "A name? The Third Shift?" he grins.
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Oct 30, 2015 03:45
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Firewall Heading out of the room, Firewall looked a little shaken, shrugging his head. Putting the phone down on the table he looked at people gearing up. Work might take his mind off of things, why not. He'd gone up against the Outsiders a couple times before, they weren't too terrible really. Just a bunch of kids that had taken a couple steps down the left-hand path and had some power to back themselves up. When Stormcrow mentioned wanting a weapon, Firewall pointed at the fabricator. It could probably make a chunk of metal pretty easily, right? As they were mentioning names, Firewall pulled out the communicator Assorted Few? The Eclectic Bunch?
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Oct 30, 2015 04:31
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Prototype "Those'll strike fear into the hearts of villains everywhere," Val says, side-eyeing the others, but it sounds like her mind is elsewhere. She zones out and focuses inward, checking the feedback from her arms, mentally running through the controls that she's painstakingly learned. Or... mostly learned. drat, she wishes she'd had more time to practice. "Anyone know where the teleport pad is?" she asks distantly.
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Oct 30, 2015 20:43
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As soon as the prompt is confirmed, a whirring noise can be heard from the direction of the elevator. The floor of the alcove in front of the elevator slides to one side, as a wide metal pad rises into place and begins to glow. A button underneath the elevator's call button lights up, almost certainly the button to activate the teleporter. A display on the crime computer shows that coordinates near the location of the ongoing crime have already been plugged in, and everything's ready to go. The pad is actually large enough that all seven heroes can fit easily, with room for more.
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Oct 30, 2015 21:15
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Stormcrow "This group was really set up," Luke whistles as the teleporter is revealed. Grabbing his flask from his hip, he swigs his go-juice, wincing at the taste as he bounds into a free spot. As usual, he can swear he hears thunder, but he knows enough by now to realize its just the drink going to work. "Let's go." Down one use of the transformation device.
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Oct 30, 2015 22:29
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Prototype "That answers that..." Valerie says with a shrug after the teleporter is revealed. It isn't the strangest thing she's seen today - maybe not even top five; it's starting to be easier to just accept it all and figure it out later. She follows Stormcrow onto the glowing pad. "This could just be some kids out kicking the tires; they probably aren't expecting anyone to show up. Might not need to turn into a brawl."
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Oct 30, 2015 23:22
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Nightwitch "I'm less worried about scaring the bad guys," Nightwitch notes, "than I am about scaring the regular people. All the heroes're dead, remember? We ain't had a press conference or anything; most people aren't gonna realize we're not another group of villains. A name that's a little less militant than the usual super-team's could help us in the long run." Stepping on the teleporter pad, she adds, "Think the big-rear end fancy computer woulda flagged the report if it didn't include words like 'explosions' or 'robbery' or something? I wouldn't put money on it."
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Oct 31, 2015 07:31
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| # ? Apr 27, 2024 19:12 |
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Johnathan Doe "We wonder if a name is necessary", the nanobots suggest. "It is our understanding that names are used to distinguish groups. If we are the only superhero group remaining, then we do not need to be distinguished from other superheroes.", they remind the group. "However, this can be determined after the witty banter and the fighting." He then steps on the pad. Epicurius fucked around with this message at 18:31 on Oct 31, 2015 |
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Oct 31, 2015 18:07
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