|
 Freak: +3 | Danger: +3 | Trouble: -2 | Superior: -1 | Menace: +0 Curses! 0/5 | Infamy! 3 | Conditions: Naomi could only sigh silently as her drive failed and she was sucked into the anomaly. It was just that kind of day. She tried to reroute power back to the communicator to say something -- anything -- to the rest of the team, but the distortion made that impossible. She vanished from time and space without a word. And a point of Infamy for guessing the agenda! quote:[10:22:23] <Tricky> RIP Breaking Point quote:[10:28:23] <Tricky> BP may have disappeared from time and space, but did she make the headlines? (End of Caper) --- A few seconds later... A few seconds later, they were dumped back into reality a few hundred meters above the ground. Naomi’s gravity drive failed to kick off, and she crashed straight into the treeline. BP-X shared the same fate, although a good distance away from the original. Breaking Point sighed as she plummeted towards the trees below. The residual damage from that hack was tenacious. It was just one of those days where nothing good would happen. She bounced off of several trees on the way down and finally found herself partially buried within the soft earth. Her sensor suite, damaged as it was from the hack and the earlier battle, began to gather readings from the environment. Who knows where the explosion sent her. She toggled her comms, broadcasting on the team's frequency, "Expat, Anarchy, anyone there? Phantom?" She paused for a moment. "Whisperwind?" There was no reply. Not even the pest's laughter. However, her sensors were picking up a lot of movement around her. It made sense, considering she seemingly crashed into a jungle or a forest. Strangely, BP-X did not appear to be moving at all. Rather, it seemed to be repairing its systems, but other than that it was just staring into the distance. It wasn't even staring at her. That was odd. Whisperwind, at the least, wouldn't have passed up an opportunity to snark her. It was certainly possible that they could have landed out of range of the team's communicators. Unlikely, under normal situations, but possible. Breaking Point set her repair systems to work on the physical damage from the fight. She needed to get that gravity drive back online before BP-X decided to resume hostilities. A few second later, subsystems began to come back online, and she realized that BP-X appeared to be trying to ping... something. She wasn't sure if it was meant for her, or its mysterious masters, as it seems to be omnidirectional. BP-X appeared to be trying to communicate with something. Breaking Point's eyes narrowed. Curious. It seemed that she was not the only one out of range of normal communications. The signal seemed to be utilizing an unusual encryption methodology, but Sinclair Industries was no stranger to information warfare. Her decryption subroutines spun into action. While the subroutines are working away, she was briefly distracted by the ground shaking slightly. Turning around to determine the source, her sensors identified what appeared to be an... Argentinosaurus!?  Naomi's face went slack with shock. “Just where the hell have you ended up?”, Naomi thought to herself. Her surviving databases confirmed that the bone structure matched known fossil sets. Perhaps, then, the question was not where she was, but when she was. Her gravity drive whirred back to life and she gently drifted towards the top of the trees surrounding her. One Argentinosaurus might be a coincidence. A plot of some kind. Perhaps the sidekick and/or mount of some prehistoric hero. But if there were more... On closer inspection, she realized that there's quite a lot of prehistoric wildlife around her. The pieces clicked into place. Of course. The spatio-temporal distortion hadn't merely moved the two of them in space, but in time as well. That would prove to be most troublesome. Breaking Point ran a quick inventory of her remaining munitions. Minimal stocks of conventional weapons and a distinct lack of more exotic rounds. She wouldn't be able to replicate the collision of weapons that instigated the event, even if she were inclined to risk another unguided trip through space and time. And, of course, if BP-X was cooperative. Speaking of BP-X. It still had not moved, despite seemingly having finished repairs. However, it's message was decoded. It said "Requesting prime directive." Over. And over. And over. Breaking Point considered the still doppelganger for a moment. If she were to leave it like this, it would be unlikely to trouble her again. There was no presence to issue it a prime directive -- and there would not be for millions of years. Yet what kind of solution would that prove? A semi-aware nanobot swarm would be a prize to top all else that she had gained on this outing. Her face shaped itself into a grin. This opportunity could set Sinclair Industries years ahead of the competition. Decades. The risk could prove well worth it. She sent a burst transmission to her shadow, utilizing the same encryption method, "Prime Directive: Follow all directives from unit designated 'Breaking Point'." She received a reply nearly immediately. "Verifying... Successful. Report: Mission failed. Property cannot be defended if property does not exist yet." A few seconds later, it continued. "Requesting orders." Naomi's grin stretched from ear to ear. It would surely be quite distressing for any humans who had the misfortune to see such an expression. She was a genius. She transmitted, "Analyze situation." BP-X flew upwards, and looked around in all directions. As it did so, its eyes glowed in various colors, likely indicating different modes of vision. "Damage to time-space continuum detected, but rapidly decreasing. Return trip not possible. ... Structure detected. .... 5394 life forms detected in the vicinity. ... Damage to unit 'Breaking Point' detected. Nano-repair functions available. ... Non-timeframe conform life forms detected. "A few seconds later, signifying a ton of duds, it concluded its report. "Error. Unit designation missing." Naomi transmitted, "Engage nano-repair functions on unit 'Breaking Point'." Following her command, it dissolved into a swarm of nanomachines and flew at her like a swarm of bees. It quickly integrated itself into her plating. She could feel dents disappear, systems become functional again, and even the fried databases return online. The swarm transmitted, "Repairs complete." Naomi experimentally clenched her fists and ran a few diagnostics. It seemed the damage was completely repaired. Every system was reporting peak functionality. The efficacy of the repairs was remarkable. The combat applications alone were astonishing, let alone the prospects for expanding into infrastructure- but that was a discussion for the lab team. She silently contemplated the report for a moment. If the nano-bot said that a return trip was impossible, it likely was. It seemed to have a deeper understanding of the time-space continuum than she did. The next objective should be to investigate the structure. It was odd to consider the presence of non-humans in a prehistoric era. She would need to carefully gather information before approaching them. Pausing for a moment, she transmitted another message to the swarm, "Assigning unit designation 'BP-X'." It was only fitting, after all, that it be named after her. Breaking Point advances and selects a new ability: The Strange Symbiote, BP-X. The swarm replied, "Designation accepted. Unit 'Breaking Point' registered as the owner of construct BP-X. Welcome, Breaking Point." With that matter settled, Naomi engaged her gravity drive and shot towards the structure that BP-X had identified in its earlier report. BP-X, still nestled inside her robotic shell, sent another transmission. "Warning. Activity in structure detected," followed immediately by, "Warning: Large object detected in space. Collision with planet unavoidable. Measuring size... 10 kilometres." A large object in space? In this time period? Oh... Oh dear. Naomi directed her vision upwards into the atmosphere. Sure enough, she could just make it out at absolute max range of her sensors. She increased speed towards the structure -- maybe it was linked in some way to the asteroid? Suddenly, a deafening roar of energy paired with a shockwave interrupted her train of thought. The structure appeared to be a giant weapon. A large beam shot upward from it and pierced the cloud layer. BP-X helpfully transmitted, "Correction: Object trajectory altered. Object is no longer on a collision course with earth." Naomi paused for a moment, relieved with the cessation of her imminent demise. And then a nasty thought occurred to her, "Analyze: Impact to known timeline?" BP-X replied, "Calculating... Without the extinction of dinosaurs, humanity will fail to become the dominant lifeform on earth. 100% chance of paradox detected... Calculating effects... Calculations complete. Every single human on earth will fade away, destroyed by the resulting paradox and an alternative species will evolve to take its place." Well now. That didn't sound good. She was, after all, human as well. Now, assumedly, there hadn't been a large laser installation in the original iteration of the timeline to knock the asteroid out of orbit. Or maybe there had? God, time travel was confusing. Regardless, there was only one thing they could do. Her eyes narrowed, "We're going to need to commandeer that weapon installation and make sure that asteroid hits the planet, BP-X." BP-X responded, "Order received. Scanning structure... Two life forms detected inside. Likelihood of superpowers... 100%. Error... remote access failed." Remote access would have been ideal, but Naomi was feeling a little saucy. She was operating at peak efficiency -- beyond peak, really -- and she had a crazy nano-bot clone. Sometimes the simplest solution was the most effective. "We'll need to interface with the system manually. Begin combat operations on detected lifeforms -- syncing tactical network." "Synchronization successful. Engaging combat mode..." BP-X replied as she split off from the chassis and reformed into a perfect copy of Breaking Point. "Tactical analysis: The weaker of the two life forms seems to be behind shielding with no command console on their side. Likelihood of threat: low. The life form on top of the structure is the bigger threat. Requesting target." Breaking Point curled her fingers tightly into fists, "Analysis confirmed. We'll begin by overwhelming the target on the top of the structure with a combined assault. All weaponry authorized, but this conflict is meaningless if we damage the structure. Avoid collateral damage." She diverted power to her gravity drive and shot towards the top of the structure. "Confirming order," BP-X replied, following directly behind her. As the two soared to the top of the structure, a Dinosaur in a lab coat came into view. A quick look into her database revealed that this was Dr. Dinosaur, a known non-Yggdrasil lunatic intent to make dinosaurs the dominant life form on earth. That... explained this entire situation, really. He and a small group of armored, seemingly uplifted Tyrannosaurus Rexes turned towards the two robots. Dr. Dinosaur screeched, "Interlopers! You finally have arrived! But you are far too late..." Breaking Point leveled a finger at the lab-coated dinosaur, "Dr. Dinosaur! Your plot ends here! Your lot has a date with extinction -- and I hate it when people skip out on a date." Inwardly she sighed, it was good that nobody she ever knew would witness this. Sometimes you just had to go with the flow. "If your combat performance is on the same level as your wordplay, I have nothing to fear. ATTACK!" ordered the dinosaur and immediately the eight bodyguards charged at her and BP-X. Breaking Point's finger opened up and extended into an elongated barrel that rapidly began to hum with power. She sneered at the dinosaurs, "You're not even a real doctor! Disintegration Cannon, FULL POWER!" A wave of crackling energy raced towards the group of prehistoric goons. Two of the goons disintegrated instantly upon impact, but the other two that were going for her managed to dodge out of the way and were now in melee range. On BP-X's front, it appeared to be more inclined towards simply punching them, and two of the goons went flying off the tower from the sheer force of the impact. In the meantime, Dr. Dinosaur was inputting something into a console nearby. "Actually, you'll find I have PhD's in more than ten fields, machine!" he sneered. The barrel retracted and Breaking Point's fists engaged their thrusters. She rocketed towards the nearest Tyrannosaurus Rex and caught it in the jaw with full force. "Oh, my, I suppose I should be impressed. But degree mills don't really count, 'Doctor'." "Why you! I'll get you back for this...!" he replied, shaking his comically small fist at her. He was rapidly running out of goons, with only two left, but the building around her vibrating suggested that he had just input the coordinates for a second barrage...The fight was proceeding well, but who knew what would happen if they allowed the dinosaur to fire his weapon again? Breaking Point grinned. They would merely need to realign the firing angle... manually. Perhaps her monstrous strength alone would not be enough to move the building, but with the help of BP-X? They could move the goddamn planet. She sent a priority transmission to BP-X, "We'll need to manually align the building's aperture to redirect the asteroid. Synchronize and utilize all non-essential processing power to calculate the proper angle." BP-X replied instantly, after dispatching the last goon by way of orbital uppercut. "Order confirmed. Syncronizing... synchronization successful. Calculating angle... calculation complete. Data transmitted." Favoring the would-be therapod scientist with a jaunty wave, Breaking Point soared off to the side of the building and rammed into it with her full strength. She diverted all power to her gravity drive and the thrusters in her battle fists. The building began to shudder under the pressure. "A little help would be nice, BP-X! I don't think we're going to get a second shot at this!" "Order received," it replied, flying next to her and assisting as best as it could. The building began to buckle under their combined might. The building crept towards to the optimal angle even as it began to positively glow with power. It was going to be close. It was going to be really close. Dr. Dinosaur yelled out in panic as he realized what they were doing, "CURSES! I WAS SO CLOOOOOSE!" It seems as doing good deeds really did give you the luck the drat heroes always seemed to have - in the last second, the cannon reached the proper angle and fired. The asteroid was hit by the brilliant beam of light, began spinning wildly, and returned to its previous trajectory. Well, that was that. Naomi sighed with relief as every vent on her body opened up and began jettisoning the excess heat. She had saved all human life from vanishing into a time paradox. God, if that got out... Well, it'd be both really impressive and also kind of wreck her villain cred. She'd have to brag about it to Prisma later. She blinked. Oh, right. Prisma. They'd never get her off the wall without Sinclair's universal solvent. With the heat vented, she transmitted, "Let's finish this. We're back on the clock, BP-X." She dramatically hovered back on top of the cannon, grinning at the disheartened dinosaur, "Tough luck, Doc. Guess you should have spent all that time at the gym instead." "This will not be the last time you'll see me!" he exclaimed, before turning around and running... straight into BP-X's open hand, which then closed around him tightly. ...Maybe a bit too tight, but honestly who would care? Out of his pocket fell some sort of tool. Naomi quickly realized that it didn't look like anything Doctor Dinosaur would have made. She sent out a tendril of gravity to pick up the strange tool. Her sensors played across it, trying to divine its origin and purpose. It had a strange sort of temporal distortion to it. Just like the distortion emanating from the life form downstairs. Curious. It bore further investigation. As she began moving towards the entrance to the structure underneath, Breaking Point transmitted, "Combat operations resolved satisfactorily. Resume stand-by." BP-X was a bit intimidating after all, and what villain kept their trump card on full display? "Order confirmed. Returning to you." BP-X replied, melding back into her chassis. As Breaking Point descended into the depths of the weapon, she found a most curious creature.  It burbled, "Hello. I am Delta-A7493 of the Paradox Police. Would you do me a favor and press the button on that piece of gear you are currently gravity-manipulating?" The barrier that BP-X had detected must have been some sort of stasis trap. "Uh, hello, Delta-A7493. Sure, not a problem." Naomi pushed the indicated button. The barrier fell silent. "Many thanks. May I ask for its return? It is a vital piece of equipment of our unit." It explained, calmly. "While I am sure you would like to investigate it, I fear this might not be the safest place. Let us talk somewhere that is not in the epicenter of an extinction event." Naomi propelled the device towards the odd creature, "That sounds like a great plan. Would you mind arranging transport?" "Most certainly." It replied, pressing the same button as she did. It was, in fact, the only button on the thing. A sudden change of scenery later, Breaking Point found herself on a piece of white boarding in the middle of what appeared to be pitch black darkness - around her, there were shards of various sizes and forms - they were seemingly playing back various scenes throughout space and time. Delta-A7493 burbled, "Welcome to my office. I must apologize for its lack of three-dimension space. It is not often I get visitors here." Naomi gaped at the sights for a moment before regaining her composure. She smiled at the creature, utilizing the full range of the manners that she had once been a master of, "Oh, no, not at all. Thank you for the hospitality. So, you mentioned earlier that you're a member of the Paradox Police? I must admit I'm not well-versed on your organization." Delta-A7493 seemed to smile, if a space-jellyfish could, "That is not surprising. We do not show ourselves very often. Our main purpose is preventing paradoxes like the one you just prevented. Speaking of which, I would like to give you my thanks. Doctor Dinosaur bested me in combat as I asked for a cessation of his research and stole my equipment. Thankfully, I was able to pull you back to that time with me. Which reminds me, how did you manage to get lost in time? That is quite the accomplishment." Naomi grinned, perhaps a bit bashfully, "Did you know that when two identical time-space distortion rounds impact each other it causes a spatio-temporal anomaly? My nano-bot counterpart-" Naomi tapped her head, "-was proving itself to be quite unstoppable. I wasn't expecting the effect to be quite as intense as it ended up being and we were thrown through time and space. Though, as these events go, it did end up being quite fortuitous." Delta-A7493 waved a tentacle, "Ah, yes. That would do the trick. While it was quite helpful this time indeed, I must ask you to be more careful when impacting two identical time-space distortion rounds in the future. The aftereffects are somewhat difficult to repair." It advised. "But yes, I suppose I should return you to your proper time-frame now. Unless you have any other questions?" Naomi looked appropriately chagrined, "Of course, officer. Though, I do have one question-" Naomi transmitted a quick order for BP-X to manifest next to her. "-do you happen to know the origin of this technology? I'm afraid that this one's former masters have proven to be less than concerned with the fabric of space and time." "Hmm. Let me do a quick check..." Delta-A7493 said, pressing one of its tentacles against one of the shards, "Ah, yes. The Dormant Ones. They have very advanced technology, yes. But don't worry, we have asked them to avoid creating large-scale paradoxes. And so far, they have complied. As for the smaller ones, they just happen. There is little one can do about that - that is why our unit exists." Interesting. Very interesting. Perhaps K'lyathi would have more insight into their machinations. She would have to pull the alien aside for a chat when things calmed down. Naomi's face smiled brightly, "Thank you, officer, that was very helpful." BP-X melted back into her chassis. "I would much appreciate transport back to my time." Delta-A7493's tentacles waved again, "Very well. I must warn you, though. Such long-distance transport is a bit... imprecise. We have worked out the kinks, so you will not appear inside a wall, the ground, or underwater, but it is impossible to pinpoint exactly where you will arrive. So do not be alarmed if you do not arrive exactly where you were beforehand. Another difference might be WHEN you appear. There is a slight variance in arrival date, so to prevent a paradox in which two of you exist, I must set the arrival date a bit later," it explained, "Thus, it is likely you will arrive up to five days after the event that disrupted your position in time." A small badge coalesced into existence and settled into Naomi's hand. The words 'Partner In Time' were emblazoned on it in an elaborate script. "Please take this in honor of your service. It designates you as a friend of the Paradox Police and may prove helpful." Following that, it pressed the button on its remote and Naomi once again felt herself being drawn into a tunnel through time. Breaking Point develops into her own image. +Danger, -Trouble. Who needs to run from problems with that kind of firepower? Tricky fucked around with this message at 01:12 on Dec 19, 2016 |
#
?
Dec 19, 2016 00:56
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 27, 2024 16:17 |
|
|
 Fre: -3 | Dan: +1 | Tro: +3 | Sup: +1 | Men: +1 Curses! 1/5 | Conditions: Insecure | Location: Secret Base -> Hangin' with WW | Infamy: 2 Phantom Thief turned off the weapon controls and stowed away the joystick, back into its slot on the side. He then slouched back in the leather seat as Expatriot drove them back to base. "Thanks," he replied to her encouraging words. "You did well, too. Do you think BP is really done for?" he threw out there nonchalantly. He did not feel that connected with the robot girl, but the idea of losing members during a caper was not a thought he had seriously entertained thus far. "That's somewhat messed up." He overheard Expat discussing the medical bills for the heroes, and softly suggested: "I got quite the haul in art from the mansion. I don't think the caper will be a net loss for us, all things considered. We won't starve, at the very least." When they arrived at the secret bunker, Phantom Thief initially thought not mentioning it would be best, but Expatriot began about it herself. "Ah, I can understand that... I prefer to reside at home, too, rather than the safehouse." There was a brief silence. He felt bad for Expatriot. Everyone had pulled out the stops during the caper, turned up the heat to 11 and then dumped her with all the resulting fallout. He rolled his shoulders. "Anyhow, it's been quite a night. I'm dropping my things at the safehouse and going home. My presence is requested at a fundraiser in approximately 14 hours. I'll have to look the part and try not to fall asleep while a few superheroes pat each other on the back." He mimicked putting a gun to his head and pulling the trigger. "We'll be in touch, okay?" On his way out, he made sure nothing was left on the Overcompensator's backseat. He was pleased to find it empty. So Prisma had decided to keep the rose he had snuck into her hands during the getaway. And his phone number. ---- Phantom Thief ran into Whisperwind at the safehouse, and gave him a tired smile. "Good morning, Monsieur Souffle-Vent. I'll gladly take you up on that offer." Before following him, Phantom Thief stashed his fat loot under his bed and made a mental note to pawn it off tomorrow, after he'd napped. "You, being honest? That's one for the history books!" PTjoked when WW mentioned showing him something cool. When the bounty was revealed, he burst out laughing. "Oh no! This is absolutely terrible!" He walked up to the nightmarish car and its screaming colourscheme, and crouched to inspect the rims. They were pearlescent. "I never thought your taste in cars would be so... Loud?" He smiled like an idiot while he inspected the car from every angle. "The more I observe it, the worse it becomes." He gave Whisperwind a fist bump. "Magnificent. Now, how about that bottle?" They spent a good time discussing heists, both their own and famous ones from history, while enjoying their beverages. After a while, Phantom Thief felt he really needed to get home. His parents were probably going to be up soon. On his way out, though, he stopped and turned to WW. "Ah, actually, I wanted to mention that uh... Something not very chill happened during the caper tonight? Not to be 'that guy', but I think we should maybe have stuck to the plan a little better. I know, I know. Everyone went off to do their own errands. Still, Expatriot seemed rather miffed about it. I think we might even have hurt her feelings with those parting shots as everyone took turns specifically going against her wishes. Yes, I know. Imagine that. I think maybe, to be professional villains, worthy of... Y... Ygd... Of the organisation, we ought to be above petty squabbles like those tonight." Shifting WW's trouble down and superior up. With that out of the way, have a good rest, friend. We'll talk soon, but now, I need to catch some beauty sleep. Otherwise, I might lose my second superpower, and we don't want that, do we?" He winked, and left. ----- quote:00:19 Deltasquid PT rolls heat to see if he gets tv time or not Gaining 1 infamy, but it turns out Prisma has a boyfriend, and he's NOT happy to find out she disappeared the night the Phantom Thief took selfies during one of his escapades. And that silhouette in the background of those pictures? He'd recognize her anywhere, any time. PT strikes out on a caper of his own and brings freak down while taking danger up a notch. Compared to super strength, nanoswarms and teleportation abilities, he felt quite underpowered and ordinary. He was quite a good shot, though. Maybe he'd have to practise his marksmanship to be closer to Expatriot's level. Arsène got home in his civilian clothes just as his dad walked down the driveway to take his car to work. He nodded at his son. "Had a fun party last night?" "It was okay. I'm home a bit late because-" "That's good. Tell me all about it later, I'm already running late." He drove off. Arsène entered his house, went to his room and placed the stolen vial in a drawer. He'd check out its significance later. Now, he simply crashed face-first into his pillow. He woke up 4 hours later, and only then did his mom notice he was home. That night, at Diamond Dust's fundraiser, he spent the entire evening imagining how Netherwrath would have wrecked the fancy dinner tables by suplexing a hero into them as Expatriot barked commands over the com, and nobody would have heeded them. Instead, he had to tough it out, and pull out a fake smile every time some socialite was introduced to him by his parents. He wanted to be anywhere but here, so very dearly. Out of pure boredom, he snuck off halfway through the event and broke into the organiser's private lounge, where he found a laptop. He managed to hack into it with a few programs on his trusty USB key and quickly transferred some funds from the fundraiser to a mule account somewhere in Ukraine. Then he removed his traces as best as he could, though he wasn't on Anarchy's level for this kind of stuff. All in all, he was certain the mysteriously disappeared funds would be handwaved away as rounding errors or unaccounted expenses for some city official's bribe at a high-end restaurant. The next morning, at the safehouse, there were 6 envelopes at the breakfast table, each of them with a teammember's name on it. Inside of them, each person found 500 dollars and a small note with a rose-patterned header, reading: quote:Christmas came early this year. Special thanks to Diamond Dust's fundraiser, which we unanimously decided not to rob blind. Deltasquid fucked around with this message at 08:20 on Dec 19, 2016 |
|
#
?
Dec 19, 2016 01:15
|
|
|
 Freak: +1 | Danger: +2 | Trouble: -1 | Superior: +0 | Menace: +2 Curses!: 0/5 | Conditions: All Clear! | Location: A Possibly-Secret Base “Yeah, sure.” Expatriot nodded, taking a moment to nod over to the Mustang, “You can take the car to get home. You stole it in the first place after all. Afraid I didn’t do anything cool with it.” She shrugged slightly, stuffing her hands in her jacket pockets. She blinked slightly, pulling out the screwdriver inside with a sour expression. loving Whisperwind. She didn’t exactly see P.T. out, simply watched him go while fiddling with the screw driver in her hands. She waved when he drove off, though didn’t particularly respond when mentioned the team would be in touch. As the doors started grinding back to a close, she deflated with a long sigh, letting her shoulders slump as she turned on her heel and started stalking into the base. The dirty socks on her feet didn’t make that reassuring clunk-clunk sound she enjoyed went treading up the metal steps into the actually carpeted part of the base. She heard someone calling over some of the technical crew to help them pull apart armor plating from inside the Overcompensator. Apparently getting her cargo un-stuck was going to require some special tools. She groaned slightly, pinching the bridge of her nose through her mask. Well, what was the point of paying for support staff if not to let them handle little problems like this … she had bigger problems to deal with. Like making sure they all got paid. She made her way up to the war room, weaving through the passages that were still under construction. The lights were still dim in here, a large dome in the center of the building that would have accommodated significantly more than her team. As she entered into the room, a circular table began to raise up in the center of the chamber, surrounded equidistantly by a series of seven chairs. As she circled around the table, she ticked off the icons inscribed onto the backs of the high headboards: a leering grin, a pixelated anarchy “A”, a reinforced seat with oversized armrests sporting a bunny-eared globe on it, a black stone seat that should be able to weather a few centuries of use that bore a crude “NW” scratched into it, a simple Omega sigil, a domino mask paired with a rose, and, of course, her own shattered star. She’d had them all commissioned back before the train job, something to give them an air of legitimacy, of permanence. “What a waste of goddamn money.” She groaned, falling into her seat. She propped her elbows up on the table, interlacing her fingers and resting her chin on her thumbs. Looking passed her knuckles, she considered the Anarchy symbol and the reinforced chair in turn, as if an empty seat could provide her any kind of insight into the people she’d meant to fill them. Finally, she pressed a stud on the table, causing a grid of light to spread out from the center of the table, a holographic display of New Genesis rising up from the table, accompanied by screens that floated directly in front of the chairs. “Computer, open up Pending Schemes/Financial Security/Expatriot.” She said, the screen in front of her unfolded like a flower, providing several panels full of scheduling data, opforce projections, and financial payout. Tiny golden dots appeared on the map to show where each was based. “This poo poo is why there’s no rest for the wicked.” She muttered. -- -- -- -- -- The roar of smallarms fire filled the air, filling the dark chamber with a strobe of gold light from the muzzle flashes. Expatriot ducked her head as the first round punched through her cover. Two jobs in one night, she had to be crazy. Unfortunately, it was the best bit of intelligence she’d been sitting on, but the window of operations had been narrow. She’d checked in on Netherwrath, it seemed like the kind of thing Max would enjoy after all, but it was plain that she was going to need a night to sleep off whatever it was that BP-X had hit her with before its dying breath. Well, it wasn’t as though Expatriot hadn’t picked up a few things about going through the front door in her time as well. Kicking away from her cover to get the angle she needed, Expatriot aimed a blocky pistol up at a light fixture and pulled the trigger, the flash of blue plasma against their burning gunpowder the only warning that she was on the move. There was some shouting, and then a heavy crash. Expatriot rolled over, getting her feet underneath her and sprung up and over the cover. She tumbled, going into a lateral spin in the air, hearing the sizzle of bullets carving through the air, but where they’d been trying to pin her down for a flanking maneuver before now they were scattering and out of position. The crook of her elbow caught one man in the through as her legs scissored around another’s neck, she felt bones crunch like stale biscuits from her rotations before she dumped both on their heads. Rolling free, she slid under a steel shelf keeping some pallets of goods off the ground. Rather than trying to find another position, she braced herself and threw her body full force into one of the crates. The train job had taught her that she was underselling her strength, after all, though she was still learning how to use it effectively in the field. The crate flew off the shelf like a shot, slamming into a third man, the weight dragging him under he was smashed full force against a nondescript truck which shifted with the impact. The pistols in her hands bucked twice, two more goons crying out as they were blown back, falling into smoking heaps on the ground. She danced back away from the opening she’d created, jumping up and kicking off near her to make her way across to the other shelf and kick again, wall-jumping her way to the top of the rack as three man came around the corner blind-firing to fill the narrow aisle with lead. When they stopped, Expatriot dropped a grenade from her finger tips, waiting until it bounced off of the concrete behind them. They’d barely had time to straighten up before a concussive wave scattered them across the bare concrete. Expatriot inclined her head and paused, just long enough to hear pained wheezing before she moved. She could hear the motor revving; the principles were trying to make a run for it. She barely registered her surroundings as she moved, over the tops of the high shelves, between the light fixtures, swinging from the overhead rafters as necessary. She moved confidently through the dark, her visor allowing her to find the path through the pitch blackness. Jumping out over the empty floor, she hear rubber squeal as the darkly colored sedan turned practically in place, reorienting for the front door. She landed just before the headlights hit the door, seeming to appear out of nowhere, a dark figure dressed in black with the red glow of her visor glaring balefully at the onrushing vehicle. She started walking forward purposefully as the car sped at her, hands at her side, seemingly unconcerned as her visor picked out the driver behind the tinted windows. She wasn’t afraid. Sure enough, the man behind the wheel cut the wheel hard to the side as he approached her, losing his nerve in the face of her confidence and obvious superhuman nature. Unfortunately for him, he ended up plowing directly into a support column that had previously been hidden in the darkness before he’d turned. The car impacted with the heavy sound of crumpling steel and broken glass, the driver hurled through his windshield and across the pavement onto the bare concrete. “Seatbelts save lives, kids.” Expatriot said contemptuously, sparing the man a glance before she noticed one of the back doors opening. A hulking gorilla of a man stumbled out, a machine pistol clutched like a holy symbol in front of him. He must’ve still been dazed from the crash though, he didn’t even get it properly oriented at her before she put an energy bolt between his eyes, staggering him backwards to collapse definitively on the ground. Leading with the smoking pistol, she leaned in to look at the back seat. Sure enough, slumped against the seat in front of him, his nose broken an pouring blood down his face and onto the carpet below was a stocky, balding Russian in a gray suit. He groaned slightly, and Expatriot reached in to tug back his collar, revealing a tattoo of a man’s silhouette whose limbs bent unnaturally and were lashed to some kind of wheel. Handcuffed to his left wrist was a briefcase. “Dmitri Kislev.” She confirmed to herself, grabbing hold of the man’s shoulder and dragging him out of the car. He seemed dazed, out of it … probably a mild concussion. She didn’t particularly mind. Dragging him to the center of the concrete delivery area, she reached over to her belt and unhooked a retractable wire cable on a spool. Giving it a few practiced spins, she threw one up high into the darkness, watching it arch over one of the support rafters and fall back down. She wound that end around Dmitri’s legs, then pulled on the other until he dangled precariously over the floor, his fingertips barely brushing against the concrete, the blood rushing to his head. She watched the blood at his nose bubble, but it didn’t sound like he was choking, so she didn’t correct the problem. Walking back over to the car, she opened the trunk with a bit of brute force, finding two steel reinforced suitcases. Popping the latches, she opened them each in turn, gazing dispassionately over thick stacks of hundred dollar bills, flipping through one to get a rough count and tossing it back in, extrapolating the amount of money with a bit of multiplication from there. Nodding to herself, she dragged both suitcases out of the trunk and set them on the ground. “Alright, Fatass.” She said, taking a bottle of water out of the hip holster where she’d stored it, “You and me need to talk.” she uncapped the bottle and poured the cold water over his face, watching the man suddenly come to life, sputtering and thrashing around. She watched him sway, pulling a knife out of her boot, idly turning it over in her hands much the same way that she had the screwdriver earlier. “You!” came the sputtering, outraged voice, “Who are you!? Why do you do this!?!” “SHADDUP!” she shouted, planting a boot in his chest with a hard kick, driving the air out of him and setting him swinging, “When I say ‘we need to talk’, I mean I need to talk, and you need to open your goddamn ears.” The man glowered, and she watched his lips pucker like he was about to add some vitrol, but his eyes caught sight of the knife and he held his tongue. “Good.” She said, kneeling down and grabbing the front of his shirt, to stop his momentum and looking him in the eye, “I get that you think you and your organization are a big deal. Still, you tried moving something like this through New Genesis, and you thought no one would find out?” she said, gesturing with the knife to indicate the case on his wrist. “Nuh-uh.” She shook her head, “If you do business in New Genesis, you pay your dues to Yggdrasil. Otherwise, someone like me comes, and we take our cut.” She said, a flash of steel accompanying a slash of the blade. The briefcase fell onto the floor, the chain of the shackle holding it to the man’s wrist severed cleanly with a single strike. “Are we clear?” she asked, pressing the knife point delicately to his stomach this time, enough to cut the fabric and dimple the skin, but not to pierce, not just yet. She heard something wet trickling and glanced up towards his pants. Aw man … and he was hanging upside down too. Jesus, she thought she was having a bad day. “Yeah, I’d say that’s clear.” She said, brushing the man’s suit jacket open and taking a cellphone from the inside pocket. She tossed it away into the darkness, picking up the three cases a bit awkwardly. “Now, how about you hang there and … reflect on your actions.” She said, backing her way back into the darkness of the warehouse. Once around a corner, she took a moment to open the briefcase she’d taken from Dmitri. Sure enough, packed into protective foam there were a number of vials filled with fluid. She turned the vial slightly, reading Предмет #17A. It was cerebral fluid, collected from a powerful telepathic mutant with an oversized brain who’d been pressed into service for the USSR back during the cold war. There were a number of potential uses for the stuff, so there were plenty of potential buyers. Of course, nobody wanted the stuff more than Russia itself. The Red Scare would pay her a handsome sum to take credit for this bust for himself. The boost it would give him back with the motherland would help secure his position for a long time to come. As for Expatriot, well, she could take the profits from two sales of the stuff, getting herself solidly back in the black. Justice Grieves fucked around with this message at 08:57 on Dec 19, 2016 |
|
#
?
Dec 19, 2016 04:57
|
|
|
 Freak: 0 | Danger: -1 | Trouble: +0 | Superior: +2 | Menace: +2 Curses!: 0/5 | Infamy: 2 | Conditions: None! | Location: Out and about As the drunken sea villain starts to leave, Anarchy puts her hands on her hips and laughs. "Yeah! I AM a public menace! Heh heh HEH!" "Emoji!" She turns her head to look at the loyal robo-dog by her side. "Let's show this city WHAT WE'RE MADE OF!" --- Sometime later... It had been a boring night at the Gen-E-Mart. Like most nights. Not many people bothered to come to this particular convenience store this late at night. The only customers you'd typically see were people buying gas, and weirdos that would buy stuff like donuts, donut holes, and glue. The pimple-faced clerked tapped his fingers on the counter and lazily fiddled around with his phone with his other hand. There weren't even any good, new apps to play around with. But then all of a sudden, the point where his night would get suddenly worse announced itself with the arrival of a mysterious text. ????? posted:GIMME ALL YOUR ENERGY DRINKS!!! "What." He could only stare with typical apathetic teenaged disbelief. Until suddenly a giant metal fist, about as big as the entire store itself, punches through the outside wall. "I SAID GIMME ALL YOUR ENERGY DRUNKS, IDIOT!" A girl's voice shrieks over a loudspeaker, accompanied by the sound of a certain famous thief's high-energy promo music. "HURRY UP BEFORE I SMASH THE REST OF YOUR STORE!" It didn't take long for the clerk to empty out an entire cabinet of high-caffeine energy drinks and deposit them into the waiting clutches of the giant robot outside. And the entire contents of the cash register and safe, for good measure. Standard procedure for being robbed. It's actually the first thing they teach you to do when you work at Gen-E-Mart. --- "AWWW YEAH!" Anarchy cracks open four cans of the good stuff, and chugs them all at the same time in an almost horrifying fashion. "WOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" She immediately throws them behind her, into what will by the end of the night be a giant pile. "LET'S GO!!!" Emoji smiles and beeps supportingly. Which, when you think of it, makes him almost as much of a monster as she is. You'd think he'd know better, but he's just a dog. The two of them were about to go on an all-night bender of sugar-and-caffeine-fueled destruction like this city had never seen before. --- "Lower! Lower! And.... Done!" All the construction workers gave a loud cheer. It was probably not the best thing to do in the middle of the night, but they didn't really care. They'd all been working their butts off day-and-night to get this bridge done, and they'd finally done it. Now that they had this new cross-harbor expressway finally finished, the commute times of people living east of the city was apparently supposed to shorten by about an hour. Construction work wasn't always the most glamorous stuff, but with this they knew they'd be making a difference in a lot of people's lives. And not just now, but for hundreds and hundreds of years. Maybe some day this bridge would be in the history books. "Alright, everyone! Let's just get this cleaned up, and then you'll all be able to go home. But don't sleep TOO much now, y'hear? Tomorrow morning the mayor's gonna be here to open up this bridge, and all of you are invited!" Another cheer rings out into the night. But when the workers start turning off their machines and heavy equipment one by one, rather than hear the empty quietness of the harbor at night they hear... music? It's faint, but it's getting louder. A few people walk out to the sides of the bridge to try and spot a boat that the noise might be coming from, but instead they find... a giant robot? "OUTTA THE WAY, SUCKERS!!!" A girlish voice screams into the night. "ANARCHY DOT EE-EX-EE IS HERE TO RUIN YOUR DAY!!!" It's technically ruining their night, but nobody stops to correct her. Instead, everybody just panics and runs for safety as the flying machine very quickly smashes through the just-completed structure. In just moments, months and months of progress is lost as whole sections of the bridge collapse into the dark and cold waters of Genesis Bay. -- As the night rolls on, dozens and dozens of stories like these spring up throughout the city. Stories of robotic rampage and destruction. They are linked together not by any apparent motive or agenda, but only by a common description of the instigator: a giant robot that looks an awful lot like one from an old children's TV show, blaring some very loud music the entire time. For every person calling the police to report some destruction, there are about ten calling in to report a noise complaint for whoever's making all that noise in the middle of the night. The police response is sluggish, but eventually it is there. At a major intersection in the city, a SWAT team waits behind makeshift barriers, supported by a handful of heroes. "Alright," a mustached sergeant reports, doing his best impression of someone good at their job. "Word is that that this robot does not appear to be armed. So when it comes through here, I want every Officer here to engage it with small arms and draw its attention. We'll also lay out spike strips in case its feet are made of rubber. And then I want you heroes to give it all you got. Are we clear?" Everybody nods. And then they all turn their heads at the same moment, when music starts to be heard from the south. "Okay, it's time! Everybody get in position!" They do, and then the wait. A few seconds later, a brightly-colored robot appears from around a corner. "GO GO GO!" The police open fire, accompanied by a few fire, lightning, and crossbow bolts from the ranged heroes present. It does not seem to do much. Then the robot extends its arm, and a small cannon slides out of a hidden compartment. "ANARCHY BEEEEEAM!" BWWWWWWEEEEEWWWWW!! A solid, unbroken path of destruction just melts through the center of the police barricade as the robot fires a bright, pink laser. There is a moment of shock, followed by the near-simultaneous sound of dozens of grown men and women screaming as they start to flee. It's really no wonder why this city seems to rely on its heroes so much. The few heroes on the scene fight on valiantly a little longer, but a punch, kick, and one more laser later they too are sent running. The city's going to need some higher-caliber firepower if it wants to stop this robot, but unfortunately it will not arrive in time. -- Hours and hours later, Anarchy finally powers down the Protectron-5. It's now parked out on a secluded beach, well outside the city limits. Not the natural hiding spot for an 'indoor person' like her, but where else are you going to park a giant robot? It's not like there's just some convenient secret base she could use. "Uggghhhhhhhh..." Anarchy groans. With the dozens and dozens of energy drinks she once had now in a giant, empty pile behind her, fatigue has finally caught up to the city's greatest evil robot pilot. "I'm tired. I think I'm done the robot now." She pats on the inside of the Protectron's cockpit, like it's the shoulder of an old friend she'll never see again. "Bye, robot." "Emoji! Search the internet for all the videos uploaded tonight from New Genesis! And compile together a highlight reel of what we did tonight, okay? And give it whatever Pee-Tee used for his video! I'm gonna auction off this thing!" Seemingly regaining her energy the moment she touches a computer, Anarchy quickly navigates to BRANCH's internal online marketplace and lists a new item for sale. quote:FOR SALE!!! Sure, Anarchy might not have the same connections Ex-Patriot does. And she might not have the same sense of caution she'd need to keep the robot in good enough condition to sell to that guy, anyway. But she did have her own way of trying to maximize her own profits. Who wouldn't want to get their hands on that cool, new giant robot everybody seems to be talking about? <Takanago> Anarchy does her end of caper heat check <Takanago> !r 2d6+3 <Krysmbot> Takanago, 11+3 = 14 Anarchy gains 1 more Infamy, raising her to 3. She also gains +1 forward because of her name means something. After the mission, Anarchy goes on a solo caper, smashing things up with her new robot before selling it. Anarchy shifts her Superior down and her Danger up. I spend 1 Infamy to get the asset "A Stash of Cryptocurrency" to represent Anarchy's mad, selfish profits from the sale of Protectron-5. Takanago fucked around with this message at 03:20 on Dec 20, 2016 |
|
#
?
Dec 20, 2016 03:14
|
|
|
Start of Issue 3! Breaking Point A bit violently, you unceremoniously get dumped into some sort building as you arrive back in the present. At least it looks the part. On close inspection, it looks like some sort of abandoned factory. A few minutes later, you get a call on your communicator. 'Warning: Signal Strength low' is noted on it as you take the call. "Welcome back to the present!" Zeremiah greets you. "Let's just find out where you ended up in... FRANCE? Oh, for fucks sake..." You hear some background shouting before Zeremiah speaks up again. "Okay, actually, this works out for us. See, while you were gone, New Genesis went full on Big Brother trying to find the source of the Nanomachine killbot you guys managed to stumble upon. I'll set up a transport to your location. Breaking Point: stay put, I'll have the local BRANCH office pick you up. It's way too hot in New Genesis right now, so you and your alliance can go on a vacation in Paris. Or, shake it up if you feel like it, I suppose. Anyway, you'll hear from me later." Everyone else "Breaking Point resurfaced... in Paris. Considering the heat is way up in New Genesis right now, you guys will wait this storm out. Official order from high up. Way too risky for the juniors right now, you see. But don't worry. It's bound to blow over eventually. We'll make sure your stuff stays safe in the meantime." Zeremia explains to you, as the plane takes off with the alliance (barring Breaking Point, of course) on board. "As for your captives - since they're your first ones, I'll just refresh the rules for your memory: No demasking, no murdering, and don't do anything else you'll regret once they get free. Sticking someone in a death trap with nobody aware of them to save them JUST IN TIME is just rude, you know? Anyway, Ex-Patriot, we'll take over on the two comatose heroes. Prisma, however, ain't our problem. It's yours." he adds. You hear a voice behind him speak up. "Uhm... that's cool and all... but why am I on this plane?" she asks. You quickly realize that it's Prisma! She's somewhat overzealously secured to a chair, with her entire arms and legs trapped in metal and a power-negation collar fixed on her neck. ... Does she even have powers? Who knows... "I was just about to get to that. Jeez, kids these days got no patience. Not even heroes, apparently..." he muses. "Oh, gently caress off. You've been keeping me prisoner for five days without telling me a thing! Like, I kind of want to go home at some point! Can't you just like, ransom me already or something ? Jeez." she snarks back. "Couldn't you at least ACT the part of a damsel in distress and be quiet? Please? I am trying to explain something here!" Zeremia replies. "You know what? Screw you AND your lovely fashion sense!" Prisma retorts, irritated. "Why you little...!" Zeremia mumbles, finally having had it. He produces some duct tape and glues her mouth shut. And looks WAY too smug about his little 'victory' over Prisma, who just rolls her eyes in response. "ANYWAY, as I was saying before I KEPT GETTING INTERRUPTED... There's two reasons I'm making you drag Prisma along. First off, like I said, you picked her up, you pawn her off. We're just making an exception with the other two since they're kind of half dead. Speaking about things that are dead... I want to hear everything you can tell me about the caper that you're willing to share. Because both Hero Central and YGGDRASIL have vested interest in figuring out what happened. See, this gray goo nanomachine bullshit? We're kind of not cool with that, nor what happened with Prisma and her comrades. There's rules, and then there's unwritten rules. YGGDRASIL, and by extension BRANCH enjoy a certain understanding. We limit ourselves by some rules, like, for instance, no killing except in edge cases, no bioweapons, and no unmasking of captured heroes, and in return Hero Central grants us some freedoms, such as not unmasking YGGDRASIL affiliated villains upon capture, as well as better treatment in general. This is what separates us from psychopaths like Biomancer or Doctor Dinosaur." he explains. "So, explain it for both me and Prisma - just what the gently caress happened back then?" he asks all of you. ---- Later that day, you arrive in the Paris' ... well, branch office of BRANCH. Finally reunited with Breaking Point, you all get assigned a small part of the main building for your own leisure. It's no penthouse, for sure, but it's as safe as can be - plus it has a cell to shove Prisma in. Now it's time to figure out what to do while you wait. Surely, you don't plan to just sit around for a week or however long it takes for New Genesis to chill the gently caress out? "Oh yeah!" Zeremiah butts in. "I've been meaning to ask. Have you folks decided on a name for your alliance yet? It helps the cred if you got a snappy name, and not just 'that group of people Ex-Patriot and Whisperwind are in'. Without waiting for a response, he continues. "Speaking of things that help cred, since we're in Paris, don't you folks want to... you know... steal the Eifel Tower? It's... sort of become a tradition of the local villains to steal it." he explains. "A rite of passage. Plus, stealing a landmark is SURE to get you noticed. if you want to have a go at it, just ask around, someone in here will hand you a shrink gun. But... don't take it TOO lightly. Like, as much as it's traditional for us, the local heroes are pissed at it being stolen constantly. It might get heated quickly. Your call. You're free to do anything else, of course. Just a suggestion." In gameplay terms, pulling this caper off is going to give you +1 infamy regardless of the end of caper roll. Yami Fenrir fucked around with this message at 18:23 on Dec 20, 2016 |
|
#
?
Dec 20, 2016 18:06
|
|
|
 Freak: +3 | Danger: +3 | Trouble: -2 | Superior: -1 | Menace: +0 Curses! 0/5 | Infamy! 2 | Conditions: Paranoid | Location: Lost in Translation Moments after finishing the call with Zeremiah, a flood of messages crossed Breaking Point's HUD as her systems reestablished links with the mainframe of Sinclair Industries. Most were updates on ongoing production, research, and contract negotiations, but a few, in particular, were highlighted as priority messages. She opened the first priority message. Fiscal Contingency #1 posted:Naomi, Naomi sighed. It did, unfortunately, make sense. If the sale of Protectotron-5 fell through for whatever reason, leveraging her unusual popularity among the children of New Millennium was one of the avenues identified for the continued survival of Sinclair Industries. It seemed that she would need to discuss matters with Anarchy. What the hell had she done with their robot? She opened the next priority message. Production Update posted:Naomi, She had almost forgotten about the new-model Core Harmonization Engine in all the excitement! Naomi opened up her chest cavity and retrieved the glowing orb. While Protectotron-5 was a classic example of the ingenuity and, as it happened, alien technology of a bygone era, Sinclair Industries was poised to revolutionize the field of excessively sized robots just as they had revolutionized warfare. This would be a key pillar in their fight to topple Variable Reductions. She replaced the orb in her chest and moved on to the next message. Weekly Update: All Articles Referencing 'Breaking Point' posted:Top Hit: "Breaking Point: Savior of the City?" Naomi blinked at the headlines. People were... thankful? She hadn't done anything that unusual. Some explosions, sure, and there was the time where she saved the timeline by killing all the dinosaurs forever, but everyone seemed to have completely misread the situation surrounding BP-X. It was merely a natural result of her responsibilities to the team. It's not like she did it for the rest of the city or anything. And who was Snapshot, anyways? She seemed to have a real stick up her rear end about the whole thing. She settled into an oversized chair and began to sort through the rest of the messages while she waited for the rest of the team to arrive. How was it that there were so many messages? Did they breed? She hadn't been gone that long. She resolved to investigate the files she had acquired in the hidden lab if there was time. It seemed unlikely they had all survived, even after the nano-repair from BP-X restored her databases, but there were surely some clues as to what was really happening down there. And, because I forgot earlier, Whisperwind is +Freak,-Superior since I guessed the agenda. Tricky fucked around with this message at 22:30 on Dec 21, 2016 |
|
#
?
Dec 20, 2016 20:03
|
|
|
 Freak: +1 | Danger: -1 | Trouble: +1 | Superior: 0 | Menace: +2 Curses!: 4/5 | Infamy: 0 | Conditions: None | Location: Plane of DOOM "Haha." Whisperwind, true to his nature, had cooped up in the most out of the way corner of the cabin. "Why is it us who you question? Sure, Phantom was the one who found the secret lair, but I doubt he has any clue on the freaky nanocloud or its origin. The only people likely to have any sort of info you would find the least bit useful would be Bee-Pee and K'lyathi, neither of whom are actually present. The most the rest of us know is that it's some sort of mysterious nanocloud with an axe to grind with me in particular, that is strong enough to down skyscrapers." Whisperwind clapped his hands, the utter silence of the deed helping to punctuate his mockery. "So nice work there, real A-plus investigative work." "Haha." "But if you must know, it was a fairly ordinary mission before that. Break into a mansion and steal some stuff. Well, I mean, that's what I was doing, at least." "Other than that, only the cloud and that weird box we took with us were out of the ordinary. No real details on either though." Theantero fucked around with this message at 21:44 on Dec 20, 2016 |
|
#
?
Dec 20, 2016 21:34
|
|
|
Whisperwind Before your very eyes, Zeremiah suddenly disappears from few, and only reappears a second later, after you feel a hard punch right in your stomach. In a eerie, stoic voice, completely unlike his usual tone, he addresses you. "I'd advise you to take this matter more seriously." Take a powerful blow. "That goes for all of you, not just this joker, incidentally. We clear? Good."
|
|
#
?
Dec 20, 2016 21:41
|
|
|
Freak: +1 | Danger: -1 | Trouble: +1 | Superior: 0 | Menace: +2 Curses!: 4/5 | Infamy: 0 | Conditions: None | Location: Plane of DOOM Whisperwind slams to the wall due to the power of the blow. Faint coughing can be heard for a moment as he catches his breath. But it does not take too long after the familiar rasping laugh can be heard emanating from under the hood once more. "Haha." "What's with the tickles? I don't think we're quite that familial yet?" Whisperwind snickered for a bit, before quieting down once more. "Look. Of course I take this matter as seriously as it needs to be taken. I mean, the thing tried to murder me. Not my fault you're so crappy at reading people." "My actual point, if you'd bothered to listen, was that the mission was going fairly well, what with a couple of kinks here and there but that's to be expected. To presume us to have some transcendent insight into a ridiculous externality like that robot that nobody could have really seen coming is kinda dumb." quote:Theantero: WW! Show this fool that you've Got some Thorns! I add Plan to the pool as WW confides that he actually believes the team fairly competent (and perhaps makes working together thus a bit easier?) Theantero fucked around with this message at 22:12 on Dec 20, 2016 |
|
#
?
Dec 20, 2016 22:05
|
|
|
Fre: -3 | Dan: +1 | Tro: +3 | Sup: +1 | Men: +1 Curses! 1/5 | Conditions: Insecure | Location: Plane Home | Infamy: 2 Phantom Thief was sitting next to Whisperwind in the plane, rather misty-eyed at the thought of being back in France. Oh, how he'd love to walk down the Champs Elysées again, to have a croisscant and coffee in a small tavern on a Sunday morning. He smiled. He turned to Zeremiah: "I'm not exactly sure what was going on in that basement. These three heroes were hooked up to a machine with..." He wasn't sure whether he needed to tell the team about the vial. He settled on talking to Zeremiah about it in private, later. "With tubes and other implements. I can make you a small sketch if you'd like, though I don't have a clue as to its purpose. Perhaps trying to unlock new powers in people? Study superheroes? Syphon their superpowers? I didn't exactly turn the machine on to verify."
|
|
#
?
Dec 21, 2016 00:52
|
|
|
Freak: +1 | Danger: +2 | Trouble: -1 | Superior: +0 | Menace: +2 Curses!: 0/5 | Conditions: All Clear! | Location: In A Plane, Somewhere Over The Ocean At the heavy thud of Whisperwind's back hitting a bulkhead, Expatriot was up and out of her seat. She wasn't wearing her mask, though with her jaw squared and the stormy glare in her blue eyes, she looked more than ready to commit to violence. Her right hand was hidden under the black jacket she wore during off-duty hours; if she was wearing a shoulder holster, she'd definitely be gripping a weapon. "I know he's difficult to work with. Still, if you put hands on one of my team mates again, we're going to have a problem." she narrowed her eyes slightly. She wasn't sure if Zeremiah was a speedster, teleporter, or something else. Still, she doubted Yggdrasil would use him as a liason if he couldn't handle any unruly junior members. A few thousand miles up was an ugly place for a fight, but it was important to establish boundaries. This was her line in the sand. "We almost lost one of ours and screwed up our branding containing that thing." she added, "You can be sure, we're not taking this lightly either."
|
|
#
?
Dec 21, 2016 02:11
|
|
|
 Fre: +0 | Dan: +2 | Tro: +1 | Sup: -2 | Men: +2 Curses! 1/5 | Conditions: | Infamy: 1 Unusually, Netherwrath had spent most of the flight with earbuds in listening to music. Not just any music, though. As it turned out, her stunt with the building had gotten her noticed online attention; there was a whole subculture of weird supervillain groupies who lived vicariously through public acts of mayhem, swapping news stories and getting into arguments over power levels on message boards. Netherwrath's life was too well-lived to bother doing anything vicariously, so these sorts of discussions had slipped beneath her notice, until out of the blue someone had contacted her. Smashing a major skyscraper and surviving a class 6 nano-swarm had led to some reevaluation of her power levels, and she'd picked up some new fans in the process, one of whom was a lead singer in some anarcho-punk band. The bassist in said band had a cousin who worked for Yggdrasil, and managed to pick up her contact information, and they ended up dedicating a song to her. On her part, Netherwrath had been looking for some theme music (you gotta make the audio overrider work for you, after all), and sent them back something special in exchange. Call it...community outreach. I spend 1 Infamy to obtain the Asset Kickass Theme Music Still, she pulled out the earbuds when the briefing started, because hey, gotta build up the international profile. She knew jack-poo poo about BP-X herself, not having even set foot inside the mansion, but when Zeremiah decked Whisperwind, Netherwrath languidly stretched out of her seat and crossed her arms. She gave him a 'do you really want to pick a fight with all of us?' look that was actually a 'do you really want to pick a fight with me?' look. As the undisputed heavy hitter of the team (at least until they met up with BP in Paris), someone beating on a teammate right in front of her meant that they didn't respect the threat she was. And that would be a mistake.
|
|
#
?
Dec 21, 2016 02:51
|
|
|
Freak: +1 | Danger: -1 | Trouble: +1 | Superior: 0 | Menace: +2 Curses!: 4/5 | Infamy: 0 | Conditions: None | Location: Plane of DOOM "Right." There is a strange note to Whisperwind's voice. On further thought, it's actually the lack of the mocking undercurrent that usually accompanies it. Even the illusionary grin is gone, only the featureless black void remaining. "There's no reason to let this boil over. We're all-" he turns his head toward Prisma, "almost all villains here." A moment of silence. The grin flickers back on. "Besides", ah there it is. Whisperwind was back to his usual tone, "How dumb would it be to wreck a plane you're flying over the sea in for my sake when I'm pretty much the guy most likely to survive? Bet you'd feel real dumb during your final moments." "Haha." But despite it all, it was fairly clear Whisperwind was grateful to be stood up for. Even if it was merely for practical or work related reasons.
|
|
#
?
Dec 21, 2016 03:06
|
|
|
Everyone except Breaking Point "A surprising amount of camaraderie, I'll have to admit. Hmph. Have you ever considered he might be messing with your head? See, in the history of YGGDRASIL, there were always two types of villains who overstep boundaries. People that can alter memory, and those that can go any kind of invisible. You know, the ones that think they can get away with it. Your friend here -" he says, pointing at Whisperwind behind him with his thumb "Does both. I'll be honest - I don't like him. But it's not my job to like you. It's my job to make sure nobody steps out of line; breaking the few rules we have. When I ask a question about a serious matter, I expect a straight answer, not snark." he justifies. He closes his eyes in contemplation for a second. "But, so be it. If you're willing to take responsibility for Whisperwind's future actions as a team, I'm willing to ease up on the matter. The question is... are you really?" he inquires. Yami Fenrir fucked around with this message at 15:55 on Dec 21, 2016 |
|
#
?
Dec 21, 2016 15:52
|
|
|
Freak: +1 | Danger: +2 | Trouble: -1 | Superior: +0 | Menace: +2 Curses!: 0/5 | Conditions: All Clear! | Location: In A Plane, Somewhere Over The Ocean “Ha.” She said incredulously, “Not even remotely. Wouldn’t mean a thing coming from me anyway, seeing as how I plan to be out of this alliance by the end of the month.” “Thing is, if we’re willing to just stand here and watch you slap one of our people around, we may as well go ahead and dissolve this bunch now.” she paused a moment to bite back some venom on that topic, “So, hey, if some sass is worth a hole in the head to you, it’s worth pissing off an international gang of miscreants to me.” “I do better with enemies anyway.” [11:26] <JusticeGrieves> Expat tries to live the dream and Cow her boss [11:26] <JusticeGrieves> !r 2d6+2 [11:26] <Krysmbot> JusticeGrieves, 8+2 = 10 Whelp, Zeremiah can mark Curses!, clear whatever Condition is eating him, or Shift Labels if he responds. I will go ahead and throw another +1 Plan into the pool.
|
|
#
?
Dec 21, 2016 17:30
|
|
|
Team Plane Zeremiah clears Angry. "Hmph. I do suppose you have a point. I may have overreacted a bit. Sorry." he replies, looking pretty genuine. "This situation is just too close to boiling over. It makes me so angry. Bloody politicians are going to try to pin it on us again, I just know it. They never liked our 'agreements' to begin with. Ugh. It's not like you folks can do anything about it. I should stop ranting." In the background, the pilot voices a message on the intercom. "We will arrive in ten minutes, boss." Zeremiah turns towards the clock on the wall. "Already? Well, you heard the man. Get ready to say hello to Breaking Point. She'll be waiting for you in the base." Plane scene is now over! Welcome back from limbo, Breaking Point.
|
|
#
?
Dec 21, 2016 19:25
|
|
|
Freak: +1 | Danger: +2 | Trouble: -1 | Superior: +1 | Menace: +1 Curses!: 0/5 | Conditions: All Clear! | Location: Gay Paris, the City of Lights … and DOOM! [13:47] <JusticeGrieves> Check to see if Expat's past is catching up with her [13:47] <JusticeGrieves> !r 2d6 [13:47] <Krysmbot> JusticeGrieves, 11 = 11 [13:47] <JusticeGrieves> Crap. [13:47] <Yamifenrir> yisssss I shift –Menace/+Superior and Uncle Sam is going to be interfering directly with events to make his influence known. Expatriot had been fairly quiet on their way to the BRANCH office. Paris was … different from what she was used to. The history went deeper, little architectural flourishes seemed to dominate the landscape, and perhaps most telling there was color everywhere. Enough so that she felt somewhat conspicuous in her black on black ensemble. She hadn’t really been able to crack the code of “fashion” yet, and her old man definitely wasn’t going to be the one to get her up to date. So, she fell back on the oldest of teenage skills: looking unimpressed. Still, she kept her earbuds in her pocket, and she turned to look around more than usual, anyone who knew her would be able to tell she was sponging up all the new sights and sounds as well as she could. “So,” she finally spoke up once they reached the BRANCH office, unzipping a pocket on her luggage as she did so, “You wanted to know what was up? We were there to steal Protectron-5, which we … kind of succeeded at.” She shrugged slightly, bringing out the tablet that she’d used when she’d pitched the job to the rest of the team in the first place, “I only came across it by a fluke, happened to recognize the component vehicles in the background of this shot in a magazine interview.” “It isn’t like I didn’t research the site.” She said, flipping to another window with a swipe of her thumb, “Confirmed the familial connection between the Takashi and Ryoga Urameshi. The lawyer on the will was the same one Ryoga was supposed to have had for years. I looked into the house, found contracts with Blue Manchurian and several other security firms that specialize in automated security. Got a house layout from the original constructor, dug up what information I could on the specifics of the security system…SAM’s were a little weird, but hey, it’s New Genesis and some people are paranoid about supervillains. The draw on the city’s powergrid by the manor wasn’t too far out of whack, they must have an independent power supply down in the basement.” She offered Zeremiah the tablet full of notes in her hand. “If Phantom Thief wasn’t so good at his job, we probably would’ve missed it entirely.” She shrugged, slipping her hands into her jacket pockets, “You might not be remiss to look into Ryoga’s death and make sure it was as natural as reported. If someone bumped off a retired legend just to get their hands on his hardware, that’ll get Hero Central oriented away from us at least.” Her head swiveled a bit as the door opened, showing a cheaply appointed but fairly cozy living space. A living space dominated by a black and red armored hulk. Expatriot’s eyes widened slightly in recognition. ”You!” she let her bag slip from her fingers and dashed across the room in a flash, the short hop over a low coffee table turning into a flying tackle. As her arms tightened around Breaking Point’s exoskeleton, she planted her feet and straightened her back, picking her up off of the ground precariously. “You…dumb bunny!” She let her grip slacken, dropping Naomi back on her feet before she banged a fist against her chest with a metallic thunk “Stop!” thunk she repeated the gesture, “Dying!” [15:38] <JusticeGrieves> Yeah, I'm going to Rebuke Breaking Point [15:38] <JusticeGrieves> !r 2d6+1 [15:38] <Krysmbot> JusticeGrieves, 5+1 = 6 Whoops, forgot my Influence, so that’s a 7. BP can Mark Curses, Clear A Condition, or Shift Labels
|
|
#
?
Dec 21, 2016 21:45
|
|
|
Freak: +3 | Danger: +3 | Trouble: -2 | Superior: -1 | Menace: +0 Curses! 0/5 | Infamy! 2 | Conditions: A grin broke out across Naomi's synthetic face as she saw Betsy go in for the flying tackle. She was pretty sure the subsequent dead lift and punches were her way of saying 'Thanks for saving us from an unstoppable threat, Naomi! You're a valued member of this team and also my friend and I don't know how to deal with feelings.' She sent a quick transmission to BP-X to halt any attempts at retaliatory strikes, then awkwardly folded her oversized arms around the black-clothed girl. She said, "Aw, Betsy, are you going all soft on me? I go on a little unplanned adventure to prehistory and it's like the world ended! But, uh, yeah. I don't plan on it. And sorry for blowing off your plan earlier. It was pretty good. My fault for not keeping you in the loop on my status." It occurred to her that they had had a number of days to stew on her 'death' while it had merely been a matter of hours from her perspective. Time travel is bizarre. Naomi released Betsy and gently poked her with a giant finger to the chest, "Anyways, I promise I'll help you out next time. Can't let Netherwrath make all the big plays, eh?" Accepting the rebuke to clear Paranoid. Naomi looked up at Zeremiah and the rest of the team as they walked in, "And hello to you all too. I couldn't help but overhear the conversation as you all were walking in. Trying to figure out what went wrong, I assume? Well, I can provide a bit of insight as to what was going on in the lab. Some sort of non-YGGDRASIL bullshit, for one. My guess? It's some sort of alien civilization known as The Dormant Ones. They are -- or were, anyways, the lab is kind of toast -- working on replicating superpowers and genetic templates. Why? No idea. There was also a mention in their files as to working with Biomancer. Something about acquiring genetic templates from Uncle Sam's data?" She shrugged, "That's about all I can tell you. Not sure if Phantom had the chance to get anything out of there, I was a little busy getting Prisma and her friends free." A jaunty wave at their prisoner accompanied the last bit. Tricky fucked around with this message at 22:30 on Dec 21, 2016 |
|
#
?
Dec 21, 2016 22:12
|
|
|
Fre: +0 | Dan: +2 | Tro: +1 | Sup: -2 | Men: +2 Curses! 1/5 | Conditions: | Infamy: 1 Netherwrath couldn't help but laugh at Zeremiah's comment. Responsibility? Ha! It was almost cute. -- Netherwrath swaggered into the BRANCH office, busy racking up the mobile charges and charging things to their local expense account by ordering some things online with same-day delivery. When she saw Breaking Point, she froze, and then narrowed her eyes. She put away her phone as she paced over and got right up in her face like she was about to hit her. "Pfft, it took you a whole week to get back? Pussy." Then she backed away and gave her a poo poo-eating grin. "Glad you're back though. There needs to be another heavy hitter on this team, make me look good by comparison." It was probably the nicest thing she'd ever said to BP. Or anyone, ever.
|
|
#
?
Dec 22, 2016 01:03
|
|
|
Freak: +3 | Danger: +3 | Trouble: -2 | Superior: -1 | Menace: +0 Curses! 0/5 | Infamy! 1 | Conditions: None! | Location: Lost in Translation Naomi shrugged, "Yeah, turns out the time cops wouldn't send me right back to the park. Apparently bad things happen when you meet yourself." She pantomimed a large explosion. "Nice work with that building, by the way. It was impressive. You know, for a human." A chuckle escaped her voice synthesizer. The tension from their earlier interactions seemed to have melted away. Despite her continuing poor choice in employers, Netherwrath had proven herself to be competent in the assault on the mansion. Perhaps she could float an offer if they found themselves outside of Whisperwind's presence. Her style was a bit more flamboyant and prone to displays of overwhelming power, after all. A priority message from the Board of Directors demanded her attention. Board Report posted:Naomi,
|
|
#
?
Dec 22, 2016 01:33
|
|
|
Freak: 0 | Danger: -1 | Trouble: +0 | Superior: +2 | Menace: +2 Curses!: 0/5 | Infamy: 2 | Conditions: None! | Location: BRANCH, Paris "Welcome BACK, Bee-Pee!" Anarchy's voice rings out from behind the group, suddenly reminding most of you that the past five days had been strangely quiet. Ever since the end of the last mission, you don't think you've seen Anarchy at all. Even the plane ride was devoid of her screeches and laughs. Maybe she was hiding in the cargo hold or something. But as you turn around to look at her, you notice there's something kind of different about her today. Maybe it's the gold-plated shutter shades she's wearing for some reason. Or the big, obnoxious gold chain around her neck. Or the new shiny new rings on her fingers. Or her new earrings. And now that you look at it, you're starting to get suspicious that all the junk on her hat has been replaced with fancier versions of the same junk. And then Anarchy just smiles, as if there's nothing wrong at all.
|
|
#
?
Dec 22, 2016 03:16
|
|
|
Freak: +3 | Danger: +3 | Trouble: -2 | Superior: -1 | Menace: +0 Curses! 0/5 | Infamy! 1 | Conditions: None! | Location: Lost in Translation Naomi's eyes stopped smiling as she took in Anarchy's change in wardrobe. No money in the slush fund, but enough to cover that... monstrosity of a wardrobe change? Clearly, Anarchy had a change of heart vis-à-vis the plan while she was away. That was a poor choice. Foolish sentimentality held her back from completely annihilating the meat moppet where she stood, but she would clearly have to reestablish the proper order of mutual trust and professionalism. There was only one thing to do. Naomi raised a hand towards the hacker and affected a sweet smile, "Good to see you, Anarchy. Merry Christmas!" A pneumatic driver sent a large stuffed toy -- a remarkable likeness of Naomi in her signature battle chassis -- spiraling straight into Anarchy's face. The impact was enough to send her spinning head over heels. Naomi chuckled at the sight, then fired another one, "...and have a happy New Year." A muffled thud rang out as a stuffed replica of her Striker Pack impacted as well. "And, while we're exchanging warm wishes and holiday spirit, what happened to the money from selling Protectotron-5? Why did Sinclair have to make a toy line?" quote:[17:45:08] <Trickier> BP shows Anarchy a little holiday spirit! (Direct Engage)
|
|
#
?
Dec 22, 2016 04:06
|
|
|
Freak: 0 | Danger: -1 | Trouble: +0 | Superior: +2 | Menace: +2 Curses!: 0/5 | Infamy: 2 | Conditions: Afraid, Paranoid | Location: BRANCH, Paris WHAM! The scrawny little nerd takes the hit about as well as a scrawny little nerd should. Anarchy most unglamorously spins and tumbles across the room, and lands face down with an undignified splat. Her hat, and her fancy new shades and necklace also fly off into opposite corners of the room where somebody could easily pick up and take if they wanted. "Uuu.... Uuuuuuugh..." She lies on the floor for a moment, completely dazed in a way that resembles an Evil Henchwoman then an Evil Villain. After a few seconds, she slooowly gets up but doesn't seem very stable. "H-Hey! What's the deal?!" Anarchy shouts as she wobbles on her feet. "W-What was that for?!" Anarchy staggers around for a little bit, until she finally shakes her head around in a cartoon-like fashion. Then she seems fine. Well, mostly fine. "WHAT THE HECK, BEE PEE?!" She screeches at maximum volume. "THAT FREAKING HURT! I WELCOME YOU BACK AND THIS IS WHAT I GET?! WHAT HAPPENED TO ALL THAT 'FRIEND' STUFF, HUH?!" Anarchy scowls and rubs her nose with the back of her hand. "You wanna know where the money is? It's right here!" And then she claps her hands, and all of a sudden Emoji walks into the room on command. He's wearing some fake reindeer ears, and pulling a miniature sleigh behind him full of thick envelopes. "You're welcome." Anarchy gives BP a mean glare, as if she's offended. But at the least second it breaks down a scared, worried frown. Then she breaks eye contact and bolts over to Emoji as fast as she can."I-I mean LOOK!" Anarchy puts on a bright smile, but it looks pretty forced. Like she realizes that if this doesn't go well things might get even worse for her. "EVERYBODY COME GET IT!" She picks up the envelopes from the sleigh and throws one at each member of the team. They each have your name written on the front, and inside them there's a bunch of cash. Except instead of Dollars or Euros it's a whole bunch of paper certificates for some underground Cryptocurrency that look like they have to be redeemed on the internet to be used. Also if you're the kind of person who did the math, this looks like less than half of what you'd expect from the job. Unless you're Whisperwind. His is just right. "See?" Anarchy smiles some more, shifting her eyes from side to side. "There it is!" <Takanago> Anarchy takes a Powerful Blow <Takanago> !r 2d6+0 <Krysmbot> Takanago, 10+0 = 10 -Anarchy gives ground, giving the rest of the team an opportunity -Anarchy takes the conditions Afraid and Paranoid Takanago fucked around with this message at 06:03 on Dec 22, 2016 |
|
#
?
Dec 22, 2016 05:58
|
|
|
Fre: -3 | Dan: +1 | Tro: +3 | Sup: +1 | Men: +1 Curses! 1/5 | Conditions: Insecure | Location: BRANCH, Paris branch | Infamy: 2 Phantom Thief walked up to Breaking Point, and greeted her cordially. "Bee-Pee! I'm glad to see you have arrived in good health. Here's how we traditionally welcome people in France," he said while leaning in for a kiss on her cheek. "You look great! I suppose you don't suffer our jetlag, haha." quote:14:51 Deltasquid Phantom Thief tries to tug BP's heartstrings Breaking Point can either give PT influence over her (letting him change her labels), mark a condition, or give herself to him and make herself vulnerable. He turned to the entire team. "Whew! France! Welcome to the greatest country in the world, mes amis! What shall we do first? Personally, I am craving some decent bread and cheese in particular!" It's true, New Genesis had the kind of sad, industrial bread that was so common outside of Europe. The thought of chomping down on a crunchy bread that didn't taste of sugar was tantalising. "Perhaps we can go to Strasbourg as wel? It's absolutely wonderful this time of the year!" An attentive onlooker might have noticed that Phantom Thief was no longer walking around the safehouse. He was skipping. --- Phantom Thief descended the stairs to the holding cells below. There wasn't much; just a short hallway with 3 large, bullet-proof glass cells built into the walls. Prisma was locked up in a rather nice one, that had a wooden floor with a rug, a couch, and a small bathroom giving some privacy. She was sitting on her bed and looked up when Phantom Thief approached. "Sorry about the rough treatment the others may be giving you. Villains aren't always that delicate, though I do my best to polish their rough edges. He smiled affably at her. "Care for some wine?" Phantom Thief opened the door to the cell and shut it behind him, which he had to clumsily do with one foot, as his hands were full with the wine bottle and glasses. He then sat on the couch and poured a drink for both of them. "What even happened to you, back in New Genesis? I would have missed you if I hadn't combed the place for valuables." Deltasquid fucked around with this message at 15:19 on Dec 22, 2016 |
|
#
?
Dec 22, 2016 14:58
|
|
|
Phantom Thief Despite the fact that you take awfully long to close the door, Prisma doesn't try anything at all. Instead she just continues sitting on the bed, watching you with a mix of confusion and amusement. As you offer her some wine, she reaches for it at first, but stops midway, as if contemplating. "Ah, screw it. I'm going to be stuck here for a while, anyway..." she answers, taking the glass you offered here and taking a sip. "I'm fine. Just a little... homesick, I guess. But thanks for asking." Then, she joins you at the couch. As you inquire about what happened, she frowns. "I... I don't remember much. It's really blurry... I remember going to our medical department because I was told I was missing a flu shot. There was some sort of replacement doctor since the current one was sick? It was all a bit strange, but I didn't think it'd end up in THIS. Anyway, as soon as the doctor injected something, I felt really, really sleepy. That's when I figured out something was wrong. I tried to call for help but I couldn't speak anymore. Just some barely audible noises as I fell on the floor trying to get out of the room." she reminisces. "After that... I woke up stuck in some sort of... box, or something? I was in a glass tube much like the one you found me in. Almost immediately, I freaked out, and in response I was blinded by some red light and then shocked into unconsciousness. ... The next time I came to, is when you found me. I don't even know how long I was stuck down there... sorry." Prisma takes another sip of her wine, seemingly to calm herself down a little bit. "... Thanks for saving me. I mean it. I wish I had some way to repay the favor, but... you know..." she continues, gesturing around the room. "Kind of stuck in here. ... Hey, this might be coming out of the blue, but... how did you come to be a villain? You... you're so nice..." She starts blushing a bit, but you can't tell if it's because of you or because she's a bit tipsy. She doesn't look like a person who drinks a lot of alcohol, despite her somewhat rough demeanor.
|
|
#
?
Dec 22, 2016 17:18
|
|
|
Freak: +2 | Danger: +3 | Trouble: -2 | Superior: +0 | Menace: +0 Curses! 0/5 | Infamy! 1 | Conditions: None! | Location: Lost in Translation Naomi stuttered and blushed as Phantom kissed her cheek and her facial sculpting program went haywire as it tried to map the appropriate expression on her face. It shouldn't have caught her by surprise like that, especially after that show he put on in the secret lab, but it did. It was the first gesture of affection, genuine or otherwise, that she had received in a while. There was the heart-to-heart in the garage, of course, but this was a little different. She lightly bopped him with an oversized fist, "You're a menace, Phantom. I bet you say that to all the girls." Oddly enough, she realized it was the first time in quite a while that she had thought of herself as a 'girl.' A state of the art combat robot, sure, or even the president and CEO of an important corporation. Per IRC, shifting -Freak,+Superior with the doubled influence.
|
|
#
?
Dec 22, 2016 18:03
|
|
|
Fre: -3 | Dan: +1 | Tro: +3 | Sup: +1 | Men: +1 Curses! 1/5 | Conditions: Insecure | Location: BRANCH, Paris branch | Infamy: 2 Phantom Thief comically rubbed his hand over the spot where BP had struck him. "Ouch, there! Just because I tell everybody they look great, doesn't mean it's not true. I just tend to pick great-looking people as friends, is all. Every word comes straight from my heart." He held his hand over his heart as he made this bold claim. "Anyhow, I'm going to see if our prisoner has any juicy intel I can pry out of her. I'll see you soon." --- "Hmm. What a bizarre tale. Do you think you could recognize the replacement doctor if you saw him again? The prospect of getting abducted when I get a vaccin is not a riveting one." Phantom Thief thought about how to approach this. He was getting quite a lot of "conspiracy" flags from her tale, and was interested in seeing how deep the rabbit hole goes, once they'd return to New Genesis. He was torn out of his thoughts by her sudden accusation. "A villain, moi? Well... It's a rather long story and I'd rather spare you the details. But in short... Not everyone is born equal. My superpower is rather useless in a straight up fight, and suited for schemes that require more finesse than busting heads and ruining buildings. I tried to use my abilities as best as I could to do good, but it has always been an uphill battle. I'm fairly mundane, for most part. So, I started righting little wrongs. Authority figures that went out of line, or money changing hands for the wrong reasons." He thought back at stealing the exams for his classmates, and robbing the charity that was misappropriating its funds. "Unfortunately, I caught the attention of heroes who tracked me down ever since. True, what I did were technically crimes, but I never intended to hurt the weak or downtrodden. And what I saw... It made me lose... Lose faith, you could say? There are so many superheroes who do it for the wrong reasons. Who went after me because they thought it'd look good on camera and their merchandise would sell better. Because they thought it was wrong that I stole from corrupt politicians or capitalists who became rich on the labour of others." He took a sip from his wine, and nonchalantly motioned towards his friends upstairs with his thumb. "But the villain association, they took me in unconditionally. They don't care how or why I do what I believe I must. As long as they get their cut, they're happy. So in between the hypocrisy of some heroes, and the lack of comprehension amongst non-superpowered people, the only ones who could truly understand me were the mismatched outcasts amongst villains. Hence." Phantom Thief sat in silence for a few seconds, then remembered Prisma might laugh at his monologue again. Was it too honest? Too idealistic? He felt he needed to make a joke to dampen the seriousness of what he'd just said. "Also, swiping shiny stuff and being chased is thrilling! A lot more exciting than being a goodie two-shoes. Haha!" He winked at her.
|
|
#
?
Dec 22, 2016 18:24
|
|
|
Phantom Thief "Uhm... Let me think. It was like... Bre... Bro... Ber... No, I'm sorry. I can't remember the name, sorry... They send us to like, a different doctor nearly every time, so... not really enough time to get to know them. Sorry..." she replies, frowning. As you explain your backstory, she listens attentively, but still seems to be frowning. "Oh... sorry to hear that... Sounds like you never really were given a chance, huh? ... Look, I doubt it means much to you, but... I think you're better than you think you are. Please don't lose that, okay?" she concludes. "I mean, you actually came down here to keep me company and all." Suddenly, she leans in and gives you a kiss on the cheek. Unexpectedly soft and careful from from someone in her getup, too. "... Thanks." Then, she gets up and sits back on the bed again. "I know it might be a bit much to ask... but could you maybe come visit me more often? I... I just can't stand sitting around, doing nothing. ... Part of why I became a hero in the first place." she admits. "Someone to talk to every now and then would be great." Prisma supported/comforted you - You get the standard choices of shifting Labels, clearing a condition, or marking Curses! Yami Fenrir fucked around with this message at 19:09 on Dec 22, 2016 |
|
#
?
Dec 22, 2016 19:05
|
|
|
Freak: +1 | Danger: +2 | Trouble: -1 | Superior: +1 | Menace: +1 Curses!: 0/5 | Conditions: All Clear! | Location: Gay Paris, the City of Lights … and DOOM! [12:08] <JusticeGrieves> Checking the Files for information on these Dormant Ones [12:08] <JusticeGrieves> !r 2d6+1 [12:08] <Krysmbot> JusticeGrieves, 8+1 = 9 Expatriot puffed her cheeks up in irritation and drove her fist into BP one more time with a bit more force when she called her “Betsy”. Mostly, it just resulted in Elisabeth herself rocking back on her heels, BP’s battle chassis was a little too heavy to register a blow like that. She knew Naomi was just needling her, but it didn’t change the fact that she hated the name. “It’s still about a hundred years too soon for you to call me Betsy.” She grumped, folding her arms across her chest and turning away. Once she had turned, however, she paused and quirked an eyebrow. Assuming that she aged like the old man, and that BP could keep swapping out parts indefinitely … they might both make it that hundred years. Huhn. Then BP, finally, nearly a week after the fact, shared what she’d discovered down in the basement of that manor. A jolt of ice ran through Elisabeth’s spine. The Dormant Ones were bad news, a galactic ghost story that was persistent enough most scholars believed there was some truth to them. No one had ever seen a member of the species, or at least if anyone had they hadn’t lived to tell about it. Still, wherever they were, their technology was definitely still active, and working towards some kind of agenda … and it had only gotten more active since the Kil’thana Federation’s last expansion wave. “That’s impossible.” She said to herself, tightening her grip on her arms until the material in her jacket creaked, hardening into its protective shell. The Dormant Ones were just a myth, and one that had been brought to Earth by alien visitors. There’d never been any indications that the Sol system had been part of their dominion, no ruins or examples of their technology found in pre-historic sites. Plenty of other aliens, but not these. “There wasn’t any viable genetic material left. I made sure…” She closed her eyes, looking a little pale. No, she was letting her possible connection to things cloud her judgement. Just because the Dormant Ones had had (known) connections with Earth in the old day didn’t preclude someone bringing their tech here more recently … or even the tech coming here of its own accord to fulfill some objective. As for Biomancer … how much did she really know about him? She had her personal experiences with the man, sure. She hated him, deeply, unabidingly. The lab she’d been born in was destroyed, and she’d been the only active clone on site … the rest hadn’t been developed enough to survive outside of their tanks, and then her fight had destroyed those. Of course, she hadn’t been in the best shape when the Freedom Force took her in … could she have missed something? “Dammit…” she growled. She’d trusted Sam when he said she wouldn’t have to worry about her creator again. Naïve like a child, she’d just trusted that he’d stay in jail, that he didn’t have any other hidden bases where he might be storing additional samples. She was too busy trying to get a grip on her own life to even consider that she might have sisters out in the world that had been shipped off before the Freedom Force had picked her up. Stupid. Stupid and self-centered. Her internal reverie was abruptly broken when one of the envelopes Anarchy.exe was throwing out slapped against the shoulder of her jacket. Blinking, apparently a little slow to change gears, she looked at Anarchy.exe’s characteristically large grin, undercut by worry as it was. Then, she looked down at the envelope on the ground, marked “XP” with a bold black marker, an extra little line added to the loop of the “P” to make it look a little like a face. “Did…you just try to buy me off?” she tilted her head uncomprehendingly down at the envelope, where some of the bills were poking out as the flap had come open, “With monopoly money?” Justice Grieves fucked around with this message at 20:34 on Dec 22, 2016 |
|
#
?
Dec 22, 2016 19:24
|
|
|
Freak: +1 | Danger: -1 | Trouble: +1 | Superior: 0 | Menace: +2 Curses!: 4/5 | Infamy: 0 | Conditions: None | Location: France of DOOM A hand grabs Anarchy by the shoulder as she staggers. Whisperwind, with his usual grin, even if there was somewhat of a more menacing glint to it than usual that was hard to put a finger on. "Haha." "Welcome back from the past, Bee-Pee. A bit surprised you didn't stay based on how preoccupied you seem to be with it if I'm totally honest." "Then again, I suppose it would be a bit much to expect coherent decision making from someone who bitches and moans about past maltreatment but is themselves the first to throw their weight around even at the tiniest sign of annoyance." "Haha." "But listen up. Thus far, I've given none of you anything but the occasional bit of lip, since believe it or not I actually sort of believe in getting stuff done, and have been mostly amused by your antics more than anything else. Your 'unstable, pampered corporate princess' schtick has been a particular favorite, Bee-Pee." "Haha." "The point here is: If you lay a hand of my girlfriend again, I will make your life actually difficult. Am I understood? Good." quote:Theantero: Breaking Point! Be Rebuked by the Righteous Whisperwind for your cruel ways! WW ultra-hypocritically claims the moral high ground! Adding Plan to pool (I assume it could somehow be fluffed as WW's stand for a team member making future teamwork smoother?) since I have no conditions to clear. Theantero fucked around with this message at 20:18 on Dec 22, 2016 |
|
#
?
Dec 22, 2016 20:14
|
|
|
Freak: +2 | Danger: +3 | Trouble: -2 | Superior: +0 | Menace: +0 Curses! 1/5 | Infamy! 1 | Conditions: None! | Location: Lost in Translation Breaking Point simply shrugged, "I didn't realize that she was so... fragile. If I had truly intended for her to experience harm, I would have used something designed for that purpose. I have no shortage of such. If she intends to work with the team instead of taking advantage of us...? I anticipate no further problems." Even as the words escaped her synthesizer, she inwardly seethed. He would soon rue the day he had challenged her. After all, she had certain new advantages that he could not possibly anticipate. While his talents might baffle her innate suite of sensors, BP-X had experienced little trouble in tracking his location during the excitement at the mansion. That would prove to be a decisive advantage. Rebuke accepted, +Curses.
|
|
#
?
Dec 22, 2016 21:14
|
|
|
Freak: 0 | Danger: -1 | Trouble: +0 | Superior: +2 | Menace: +2 Curses!: 0/5 | Infamy: 2 | Conditions: As Whisperwind holds on to Anarchy, her smile seems to warp back into its usual, menacing glory. She leans into him for a little bit, then kisses him on the cheek. "Thanks, hon!" But then she looks at Ex-Patriot with a strange flash in her eyes. As if Exp's ignorance had awoken something within her. Anarchy twirls away from Whisper to give herself room to grab the spotlight once again, and then points a very dramatic finger at the team leader. "Did you just say... 'Monopoly Money'? HAH!" Anarchy laughs, then covers her mouth with the back of her land like a condescending princess. "Does our dear Team Leader, the esteemed Expatriot, not know what cryptocurrency is? Is she so out of touch that she doesn't even know what money is? HAH! HA HA HA HA HAAAH!" Anarchy jumps onto a piece of furniture and strikes a pose. "That, my dear Ex-Pee, is a bundle of CryptoCoin. The currency of the FUTURE! Unlike Dollars, Euros, or anything YOU paid us with, THIS controlled by no government or bank! And it's not tied to some dumb physical commodity! It's FULLY DIGITAL, BABY! UNTRACEABLE! UNCONTROLLABLE! DECENTRALIZED! FREE FROM ANY OUTSIDE AUTHORITY! With CryptoCoin, there's no NEED for things like slush accounts or money laundering! Nobody even knows who has it! It's fully anonymous! And every day it gets more and more valuable! It's! The! PERFECT! Currency for up-and-coming twenty-first century criminals like OURSELVES!" And then she stops to laugh, making a very condescending face at Ex-P. "Heh HEH heh! And to THINK! You had never heard of it! Some criminal YOU are! Ha ha HA!" She steps off her platform and walks towards Expatriot. Which makes her look a little bit stranger, because now that she's looking down upon her while physically looking up at the taller girl. "And you think I'm trying to bribe you? What, did you ALREADY forget what the last job was about?! That's your CUT!" Anarchy leans in a little bit towards Ex-P, then quickly spins away like a ballerina. "You didn't think I was just gonna leave you with nothing, did you? Oh, how CRUEL! I just did things my way." She pouts, and puffs out her cheeks. "Because your way stunk." She stomps her foot on the ground and growls. "If we did things your way, we wouldn't have even assembled the freaking ROBOT! We would have just snuck into somebody's house and gotten punched by that dumb Nanomonster! And how lame is THAT?! A Caper without any Grand Villainy? A group of criminals fleeing into the night without anybody cursing their name?! No FREAKING way!" "You see," Anarchy puts her hands in the air, "unlike the rest of you I'm a true Evil Genius. And any true genius needs an audience. Or else how in the WORLD will anybody know how SMART they are?! And SEE how TERRIFYING they are! Can terror even exist in a vaccuum?! SCIENTISTS HAVE YET TO KNOW!" She puts her hands in front of her chest and lowers her head slightly, as if she's holding a moment of silence for all the unappreciated geniuses out there. Then she looks back up and smiles again. "So that's why I did things my OWN way! I mean ONE, your dumb plan was practically begging for it. TWO, Bee-Pee was telling me to run away anyway. And THREE, if your plan couldn't get me an audience, I had to make my own! YOU GUYS! And now look! I OUT-VILLAINED you all! AND it STILL worked out better, anyway! Now you have CryptoCoin! Not some dumb 'Dollars'." And then Anarchy steps forward and leans in real closely towards Ex-P. "So do you GET it now, Ex-Pee? Are you... impressed?" It's clearly supposed to be a sarcastic, rhetorical question... but actually from looking at the way her eyebrows are kind of raised hopefully she might actually be genuinely hoping you are. Anarchy Gloats about her Master Plan to Ex-P. She lets off some steam and erases Afraid, but also shows a bit too much of herself to Elizabeth. Ex-P gains influence on Anarchy, which means she gets to shift my labels.
|
|
#
?
Dec 23, 2016 02:10
|
|
|
Freak: +1 | Danger: +2 | Trouble: -1 | Superior: +1 | Menace: +1 Curses!: 0/5 | Conditions: All Clear! | Location: Gay Paris, the City of Lights … and DOOM! Without the benefit of her mask, it was pretty easy to see Expatriot’s face screw up as she considered what Anarchy.exe was trying to tell her. One eyebrow quirked as she seemed to consider what she was being told about cryptocurrency, a vaguely dissatisfied expression on her face. It sounded like some kind of scam to her. If nothing else, the lack of oversight invited all manner of fraud, never mind jumping through the hoops of finding some place that actually recognized the stuff as money. Still, if it was even half of what Anarchy.exe was saying was accurate, she’d need to look into it properly. This was the problem with learning most of what she knew about being a villain from stopping them. The best stuff tended to slide under her radar. Her blue eyes fell half-lidded as she regarded Anarchy.exe’s eager green for a moment there at the end, pressing her lips together in a thin line as she mulled over what had been said. “C’mere, you!” she finally resolved, suddenly lunging for the too-close Anarchy.exe. Her arms clamped over Anne’s to pin them to her sides in a brief hug, though not quite tight enough to prevent Anarchy.exe from trying to squirm out. A quick scuffle ended a moment after it became clear that Elisabeth was more roughhousing than trying to hurt the effervescent Anarchy.exe, one arm squeezing around her shoulders to keep her pressed close while a gloved hand vigorously mussed her hair, causing the twin tails to bounce and wave along the way. “You are damned lucky I’ve had a few days to cool off.” She grinned, “Alright, alright, I’m villain enough to admit it. I got outplayed by Anarchy dot Ee Ex Ee.” She turned her loose with a bit of a spin, letting her stumble back towards Whisperwind, “Clearly, I still have to internalize some of the ‘art’ of this villainy thing.” “…Though I have reasons for keeping my head down…” she added lowly, bending over to scoop up her envelope. She thumbed through the stack of certificates, a faint frown crossing her lips. Still, she tucked it in the inside pocket of her jacket without comment, she knew unloading a hot robot was going to dip into the proceeds, but she knew she could’ve arranged a better deal than this. Ah well, it wasn’t like she was in this game for the money anyway, and her supplemental activities had already alleviated the crushing weight of her financial responsibilities. Shame she’d had to miss out on bonding with the team though. “Still…” she said, a wicked smile returning to her lips as she produced a bit of carbon paper from the same pocket, “I threatened to have Whisperwind shot for doing significantly less. I’ve tried to ease up since then, but It doesn’t really seem fair to let you completely off the hook.” She tossed the folded up bit of paper over before tucking her hands back into her pockets. “You know about Yggdrasil’s inter-departmental athletic meet, right?” she asked, “Well, I bet Colonel Taizu a significant amount that I could get you to place in the final three. Significant enough that he drafted up that entry form for me … the one with the steepest possible penalties for failing to show up. Given that he recruited you, he had pretty much all the information I needed, beyond that? Well, your signature is surprisingly easy to forge … might want to move away from printed letters.” Expatriot shrugged her shoulders slightly, turning her head deliberately to crack her neck. “I hear that Acquisitions is fielding an uplifted Utahraptor, you know? Given how rough supervillains can play, I just know you’ll want to be in tip-top condition.” She nodded at the paper, “So, I took the liberty of offering up my services as a personal trainer.” “Of course,” she said, tipping her head the other way, “I wouldn’t be so cruel as to deny a young couple a holiday in the City of Love, so we won’t do anything until we’re back in New Genesis. I have some personal stuff to sort while we’re in Europe anyway. Once we’re back though, you can look forward to two months of early mornings, daily exercise, and real food.” Really, after their conversation in the garage, Expatriot was convinced that Anarchy.exe would rather be shot, but she sincerely doubted that Zeremiah would step in on a revenge of this particular flavor. “And before you go thinking that Whisperwind will fix this—“ she added, raising a finger as if she’d just recalled herself, “He might get me, but Yggdrasil’s records are an ocean away, and their keepers are significantly better protected against his abilities than I am. All you’ll really cost yourself is an advantage, since I’ll get almost as much enjoyment out of watching you fail hilariously.” Why, yes, I do intend to offer “Help Anarchy.exe Cheat Her Way To Victory” as a Caper later on. Anarchy.exe shifts labels: -Menace/+Trouble
|
|
#
?
Dec 23, 2016 10:10
|
|
|
Everyone Zeremiah laughs heartily as Ex-Patriot reveals her plans for revenge. "Ahahahaha! Now that is just EVIL. I LOVE it! Didn't you just say you had yet to master the art of villainy? Because you sure got the revenge part down to a T." he quips. Then, he turns to the group at large. "Alright, sorry to but in, but I got stuff that needs doing. I assume you folks aren't just going to crash on the couch uselessly all day? Go decide on something to do. I need to have a word with Ex-Patriot in the meantime." he continues. Ex-Patriot Leading you to a side room, he gestures you to sit down on a chair as he closes the door. He then, he sits down and waits for you to do so as well. "I heard you wanted to leave the alliance. Now, I'm sure you have your reasons for this... but take the advice from someone who went through a LOT of teams: Don't." he advises. Giving it a moment to sink in, he continues. "You got a pretty good deal here, Ex-Patriot. Your team is a lot more cohesive than most. Sure, your test run got screwed up by a mole, but other than that you have been extremely successful." he reminds you. "And yes, Anarchy.Exe betrayed you, but you have to admit the betrayal was fairly mild. And really, being betrayed every now and then is something you should expect - if you were completely buddy buddy with each other, you might as well sign up in Hero Central." Once again waiting a moment, he resumes talking. "And besides, you of all people need a team to have your back, one that you can trust not to bail on the first sign of trouble." he adds, pressing a button. As he does so, a picture of Uncle Sam appears on a nearby wall. He gestures towards it with his hand. "You're good, but you're not Uncle Sam good. The guy eats supers on the strength scale of Breaking Point for breakfast. And more to the point - what if he shows up with ANY sort of backup? even Liberty Belle would turn the odds against Uncle Sam from highly improbable to impossible." He then leans forward, to look you in the eyes. "And do you honestly expect him to just keep ignoring you? You, the stain on his otherwise spotless record? If he comes after you and you're alone, you might as well cuff yourself to save yourself the broken bones." Following that, he gets up. "Just something to consider. But now, let's go back to the team, before they decide on something without you, yes?"
|
|
#
?
Dec 23, 2016 13:50
|
|
|
Freak: +1 | Danger: +2 | Trouble: -1 | Superior: +1 | Menace: +1 Curses!: 0/5 | Conditions: All Clear! | Location: Gay Paris, the City of Lights … and DOOM! Expatriot sat down on the edge of the seat, resting her elbows on her knees and ignoring the arm rests. It was a weird old habit, the kind a person developed when they half expected every chair to be trapped with hidden restraints. She listened quietly for the most part, running a hand through her hair. “You’ve got a pretty generous definition of success.” She said with an exasperated sigh, “I know they’re putting on a good face right now, but it’s just a good day. People got in the news, everyone’s excited about being in a new city, and we’ve found out that some of the team isn’t dead or in need of killing. It isn’t going to last.” She let her head drift off to the side. “Like you said, I need a team I can trust to have my back when the time comes. I wanted it to be those guys, every one of them has what it takes to be a world beater, but it just isn’t. None of them respect what I bring to the table, I’m just the sucker who’ll do the grunt work because she cares about the quality of her work.” She shook her head “Even if I thought they could get it together long enough to win a scrap against a team that actually trained together, I just can’t shake the feeling they’ll leave me high and dry when the going gets tough.” “On top of that, their love of collateral damage is just dragging me into the crosshairs of people I just don’t want to tangle with right now.” She said, pinching her nose, “And giving me gray hair besides.” “I’m just sending out feelers for better opportunities right now.” She said, finally, “If it’s like you say and there really aren’t any … I dunno.” She shrugged, “Maybe I’ll just have to accept that I’m the one who doesn’t fit.” Again, she added mentally. “Still, yeah, I’ll keep it in mind.” She said, glancing over at the picture of her father with a frown. "I won't keep you from your duties with more pointless bellyaching."
|
|
#
?
Dec 23, 2016 19:33
|
|
|
Freak: +1 | Danger: -1 | Trouble: +1 | Superior: 0 | Menace: +2 Curses!: 4/5 | Infamy: 0 | Conditions: None | Location: France of DOOM Whisperwind's eyes squinted under his hood as he peered at the Eiffel Tower from the seat of a local café, sipping on his overpriced (and stolen, naturally) latte as he did so. Europe huh. He had been several times of course, his family was of old magical and aristocratic roots after all. Never particularly liked it though. But perhaps that was only due to negative association, since he had been mostly shipped here on training, since Europe had old magic, at least of the sort that his family practiced. But now that he had some time for himself, he couldn't help but admit that the place had its charm. And they actually knew how to bake. Waving his hand absent-mindedly and intoning a raspy "Hon hon croissant", Whisperwind had an oblivious barista bring him the pastry in question, watching with some amusement as the initial confusion danced and then faded on her face as his power forced her brain to rationalize all of this as perfectly ordinary. But yes. Europe and its old magic. Whisperwind sighed, a sound so quiet it was almost impossible to make out, as he thought about what to do. Well, he kind of knew what he had to do. After all, he did not have all that many chances to come here, these days, so he ought to make the best of it. Those people who took his voice, they were the sort who practised the old magics of Europe. Hell, Nightmare himself was dressed like an ancient Greek oracle who had taken a liking to Nine Inch Nails. Whisperwind sipped on his coffee. Yes, it would be a huge waste of potential if he didn't at least try to find leads on those people. Where were their vaults? Their strongholds? How tightly were they actually tied with YGGDRASIL? All questions he could use some answers to. But then again, it's not like he could just strike out on his own. He needed some sort of excuse. His eyes slowly drifted to Flickerwisp, parked on the middle of a sidewalk, the pedestrians swarming around it like a school of fish around a rock, none the wiser to its existence. Hm. ____________________ A screeching sort of honk rang outside the safehouse as Whisperwind rammed his hand onto the horn repeatedly and at a completely unnecessary frequency. He popped his grinning face out of the window as the door was openened. "Haha." "Hey. I was thinking, since we don't go to Europe all that often, we should totally take a road trip of some sort. See the sights you know?" He honked a couple more times for emphasis. "I know Phantom probably has a bunch of places he'd like to visit at least. And has Anarchy even ever been to Europe? Really there's a whole bunch of places we could visit with my sweet teleporting car, so hop in why don't you." "Not BP though, since I doubt she could fit her butt here if she wanted to." Theantero fucked around with this message at 21:16 on Dec 24, 2016 |
|
#
?
Dec 24, 2016 21:11
|
|
|
Freak: +2 | Danger: +3 | Trouble: -2 | Superior: +0 | Menace: +0 Curses! 1/5 | Infamy! 1 | Conditions: None! | Location: Lost in Translation Naomi looked over at what remained of the group in stony silence, then turned to descend down to the prison where Prisma had been stored. Maybe the hero would appreciate the magnitude of how great she was. This team? They couldn't appreciate competence, let alone greatness. Almost as an afterthought, a tendril of gravity snaked out and grabbed the envelope full of cryptocurrency. If nothing else, it would serve as a fitting Christmas bonus for the lab team. They never complained about the long hours. Never conspired against her. Never betrayed her trust. Hidden in one of her giant fists was a card addressed to Anarchy.EXE in an elaborate script. She thought for a moment about giving it to the hacker, but made no move to do so as she vanished down the stairs. Not now. Not yet. As the prison came into view, it appeared that Prisma and Phantom Thief were engaged in some sort of... prison-based picnic? An earnest discussion? Naomi wasn't sure. She stopped short of the enclosure, unsure how to proceed. On the one hand, Prisma was her prisoner and she should get to brag about how great she was. On the other, it would be somewhat rude to interrupt their moment. Fraught with indecision, she hovered in place between the prison and the stairs. She decided to send a burst transmission to Expatriot's communicator instead, putting off the inevitable for a few moments longer. @Expatriot posted:Expatriot -- Elizabeth -- I have something I need to tell you regarding my travels. It is something of a sensitive topic, so I would appreciate the utmost discretion when we meet. You are the only one I can trust with this information. It appears that Whisperwind intends to leave the hideout soon on some sort of... whatever it is he does -- perhaps that would provide a window to meet? With Naomi's last excuse to ignore the two taken away, she affected much more confidence then she felt and entered the cell. A grin crossed her face, "Prisma! I can't believe you missed me so much that you stuck around! Speaking of which, quite sorry about the glue restraints earlier. I had assumed I would have been around to release you from them shortly afterwards."
|
|
#
?
Dec 25, 2016 21:29
|
|
|
Fre: +0 | Dan: +2 | Tro: +1 | Sup: -2 | Men: +2 Curses! 1/5 | Conditions: | Infamy: 1 Netherwrath got changed into a tasteful patriotic t-shirt, left her burner number at the front desk, and bailed to do some tourist poo poo. Hell, she'd barely ever even left the state before she moved to New Genesis; this was her first impression of foreign ways and foreign things, so she had to make the most of it before she got dragged back for another planning session. But hell, like the movie said (to her endless snickering), she was in Gay Paree, it was time for some culture and romance! And what better place to do it than the Eiffel Tower! -- Two hours later, the fancy restaurant was in flames, and Netherwrath sat in the middle of the inferno at the bar, t-shirt still smouldering, drinking a now near-boiling cup of coffee and wondering where it had gone wrong. Maybe the maître d' was right when he said her red-white-and-blue jeans technically violated the restaurant's dress code. Maybe it was her insistence that the waiter, and indeed all staff who came within earshot, had to speak some goddamned English. Maybe she shouldn't have decked the manager who'd told her that they didn't normally serve french fries. Maybe she shouldn't have insisted on doing it herself, setting off a grease fire in the kitchen that quickly spread to the rest of the building, triggering an evacuation of the entire block. No, that couldn't be right. All Netherwrath had tried to do was be a cultural ambassador. It was their overreactions that were at fault. Yes, that made sense. She drained the last of her coffee (boy, problems with fried potatoes aside, these guys knew their way around a dark roast), grabbed some aged whiskey from the back of the bar, and sniffed the air. It smelled like the flames had almost met the natural gas line. Once the place exploded, she'd be presumed dead and she could go back to base. What a headache this tourist thing had been.
|
|
#
?
Dec 26, 2016 19:21
|
|
|
Fre: -3 | Dan: +1 | Tro: +3 | Sup: +1 | Men: +1 Curses! 1/5 | Conditions: | Location: BRANCH, Paris branch | Infamy: 2 PT is no longer insecure due to Prisma's kind words. "Ah, why, how could I ever refuse such a request? I'll be sure to swing by every now and then. I'm sorry I can't let you out of this cell, though. Paris is wonderful by night. Speaking of, I should go scope out some targets in the City of Light." Phantom Thief got up from the couch, and winked at Prisma as he closed the door. ---- Phantom Thief walked around the Latin quarter in Paris, keeping his eyes peeled for some targets of opportunity. To his surprise, a new book store had opened in town, and while unremarkable taken out of context, he distinctly remembered the two neighbouring houses to have shared a wall, without any bookstore in between them. Was he misremembering the street lay-out, or did a new building appear between them, somehow? He rubbed his eyes out to make sure he wasn't dreaming, but there it was. Arthur's Arcane Accessories and Tomes. Phantom Thief walked past the store a few times to glimpse inside through the window. He could see broomsticks and dusty old books. "Huh." quote:21:55 Deltasquid PT is casing the joint - Who or what here is not what they seem? - Who owns this place?/Whose payroll is this person on? A strange house indeed. Phantom Thief finally concluded it was worth looking into. He sat down on a bench in the park nearby and went on the internet, hoping simply googling the address or name would satisfy his curiosity.
|
|
#
?
Dec 26, 2016 21:57
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 27, 2024 16:17 |
|
|
Freak: +1 | Danger: +2 | Trouble: -1 | Superior: +1 | Menace: +1 Curses!: 0/5 | Conditions: All Clear! | Location: Gay Paris, the City of Lights … and DOOM! Elizabeth chuckled a little bit as she made her way back to the group’s current hide out. It looked like while she and Zeremiah had been addressing her concerns, the rest of the group had scattered to the four winds. So much for sorting out a Caper today. Well, it was probably for the best, they were operating in a new town, far away from their usual networks and resources. Taking a day or two to learn the lay of the land was prudent … and might jog a ideas loose for that matter. Yeah, stealing the Eiffel Tower would be a grand gesture … but it also felt a bit like low-hanging fruit, and pulling the same job that dozens had already attempted didn’t really hold any meaning unless they’d all failed. She’d considered turning the whole thing into a giant electric deathtrap and using Prisma as leverage to draw someone high profile into it. Of course, Prisma was as much a stranger to Paris as the team itself was, so she’d be banking on heroic altruism to make the gesture worthwhile. Besides, using a hostage she hadn’t caught herself felt kind of like cheating. As a villain, she probably wasn’t supposed to care about that. Still, taking credit for someone else’s work? What kind of message did that send about her? Elisabeth tugged a folded piece of a paper out of her pocket and checked a set of coordinates against a digital map. Then she pulled up a train schedule, saving the departure time of a high speed train bound for Germany. She ran the numbers in her head … four hours there, four hours back. If she made a day of it, she should have plenty of time to do whatever the team decided on without letting her own opportunity pass her by. “Hmn?” she tilted her head slightly to the side, noting the message from Naomi as she saved the data for her to call up again later, “Done taunting her rival already?” she mused to herself, quirking an eyebrow at the screen. @BreakingPoint posted:Sure, wanted to talk to you anyway, try to work out a price estimate on some Sinclaire Tech. Did you have a place in mind? Pulling her earbuds back out of her pocket, she tucked them into her ears as she started walking towards the part of the base where the holding cells were kept. Setting the music player in her pocket to shuffle, she was rewarded with Fall Out Boy’s “This Ain’t A Scene, It’s An Arms Race”, which was appropriate enough that she left it there.
|
|
#
?
Dec 28, 2016 09:49
|
|