Ecalsneerg
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"I think these were on TV when I was a kid," scowled Arrowhawk, bringing his bow up as he loped away from the speedy monkey. He quickly sighted on the closest approaching mummy, and drew a long, pointed arrow from his quiver. He lifted his weapon to his shoulder and drew back, quickly realigning his arrow so that the wind and trajectory'd hit the mummy in the gaping eye socket. An inch to the left of the sparking power cable. "These ones aren't very verbose, though." He let the arrow fly, his aim utterly precise, the arrow flying true and hitting exactly where intended.
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"Alternately," suggested Equinox. "Is there any way you can isolate them temporarily?" She shrugged her shoulders, and spread her palms flat. "No plan survives contact with the enemy. We go to interrupt a summoning, even if it goes well, things are likely to happen." She gestured at Nick, Pitch and at herself. And, as an afterthought, Springsvale himself. "We can handle ourselves. A lot of people and places around here are less able to. So, if there's any way to keep much of the fight within a small area, that way we can stop any unfortunate consequences quickly, rather than giving any summoned monstrosities time to escape into the surrounding area and wreak havoc."
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Geckoman rolled his eyes when he was sure she wasn't looking. He was faiiiirly sure that getting shot was worse than a deadline. And eventually would lead to one. He was still holding up well under the continual flow of alcohol. He did have his limits, though, but there didn't seem to be a way to politely decline drinking until after he'd hit them, which was a concern. Didn't Erik say the key to drunken boxing was in not actually being drunk? He, slightly unsteadily, eyed the various casino games. Now, this. This he could do. "I could try poker," he said off-hand. "I've got a good poker face. How about you, Ms Shots?"
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Geckoman casually tossed the wine back. He didn't have the practice Ms Shots clearly did. Luckily, he had a hyper-efficient toxin filtration system as any impaired or damaged structures just got replaced with fresh, new, fully working ones. "Well, I think we both know what my low was. It's why we're meeting. A hospital got damaged, my reputation got smeared, a man's daughter is still sick and dying, and he's in prison for trying, even in a very, very, very wrong way, to try to save her. And your boss is happy about that. That's my low day." He leaned back in his chair. "Even on the days where people die, where the monsters come from outer space, or another dimension, or whatever. We beat them, and we win eventually. Nobody won this time. Nobody at all." He sadly drained the rest of his glass.
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"<Greater. Purpose.>" Galvanic nearly spat. "<Look at the stars. Look at them, all those whirling unpredictable star systems, all those clouds of dust, and the civilisations. So many people, so many languages, so many lifeforms. So many. And you think a greater purpose is wiping them out to replace with a homogeneous mass of robots?" She didn't know if they spoke Tempestian. She didn't care. The alien just took aim at where she'd sensed the reactor. Enough stalling. Enough talk. She lapsed into Galstandard again. "So many lifes endedlost. Not today. No." Lightning was whirling around her, blue lights crackling and blazing through her veins and her skin, leaping out of her pores and into the air, spiraling from circuitry in the walls and into her veins, lightning coroscating hither and thither. She lifted one hand towards her destination, and let it all explode forth from her, a blinding bolt of electricity, so much energy packed into it that the air itself around the blast broiled and recoiled as if in pain.
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OK. I was going to ask if I could fly through multiple walls. Only I had a different idea. Let's melt a path towards the reactor. She's going to use Extraordinary Effort, one for a power stunt, one to add two ranks to it. So, off Electrical Control... Full Action: Damage 10+2 (Extras: Area - Line [+1], Flaws: Action - Full [-1]) LINKED to Drain Toughness 10+2 (Extras: Affects Objects Only [+0], Area - Line +1, Flaws: Action - Full) (Power Feats: Progression [Area] 3) [23PP] firing 250x12' = 3000' long lightning surge towards where she sensed the reactors presence. I think 3000' is excessive, so please cut it down to where you feel is appropriate. I don't think I can be objective with half mile lightning strikes. If the drones in front of her get caught in it, all the more awesome So I have 5 Bruises, 2 HP, and will be Exhausted next round unless I spend a HP. Which I so will.
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Resisting getting drunk: 1d20+9 11 So close! Yet so far. Knowledge (Behavioural Sciences): 1d20+5 7 Well, psychology was clearly an awful degree choice.
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Arrownitiative: 1d20+9 27
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"Well, angry at the lion's smarter than petting it like it's a good kitty cat!" snarled Arrowhawk after Miras as she vanished into the air. He turned and shook his head. And he was uncomfortable with the ogling. Dammit, why couldn't he just have a quiet Christmas alone. He looked the monkey up and down. Then looked back at the distance between him and the explosions. Then looked the monkey up and down again. Soon, his top lip curled back. "We don't mention it again," rumbled a low voice, as the archer held out one powerful arm to grasp.
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Geckoman had gone from horizontal to vertical in a flash, despite the sluggishness of wearing a spacesuit in low gravity. "Man, why can't we take a nice vacation anywhere, guys? See some sights, sip on some margaritas, take in the sweet moon vistas." He wasn't openly arming himself, but to those familiar with him (like the Interceptors and Dragonfly), his casual fiddling with his belt showed him loosening equipment in sheaths and unfastening covers and pockets. His stance was loose, yet ready. "So, guess they're here. Or something is." Geckoman kept his voice deliberately upbeat and light. "Find 'em, kick 'em in the ass and then go home?"
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I am not opposed.
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Arrowhawk glanced around at the others who'd appeared in Egypt with him. Great. Capes. And a monkey. And him. Someone who, apparently unlike the others, wasn't quite as quick to talk. He glanced at the redhead who'd not put his mask on right away. "Pretending to be a god, eh?" His voice under the cowl was like gargling razors and bourbon. So, he puts on someone pretending to be the daughter of... no. Lips coiled into a snarl. The eyes under the cowl locked onto Set. The other one, he wasn't ignoring, but, well, se wasn't the one who'd irritated him. Arrowhawk casually let his bow slide down to his side, holding it with a taut, ready arm. Thick black combat boots slid in the sand to a position more suited to a quick assault. "Son," he said emphatically. If it was a real god, quite possible in these circumstances, then a jibe to the ego would likely hurt a little. If it was a superpowered kid pretending to be a god, then a... jibe to the ego would likely hurt a little. "You recruited us here for a mission, and you probably knew who we were beforehand. So let me just say that I am not like Monkey Man here." Red eyes quickly flicked to the side. "No offence." Back on Set. "And I do not like even a tiny bit of misdirection. You ask, or don't ask. Be straight with people, like an adult. If it was so vital, then even a trickster god should lay down the tricking if it's vital."
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Arrowhawk has none of those skills! Clearly Set chose the wrong person for the mission WHY IS IT SO HOT
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"On my way," said Equinox, rushing forward after putting away the commlink. She went to throw herself forwards, nearly landing on Hayley the raccoon's unfortunate form... then swept up into the air with her familiar in her arms. The two of them flew through the air, Siobhan's long black coat rippling and wooshing hither and thither in the wake of her flight upwards. She spiralled round quickly, changing direction to head towards the art museum. Her glowing eyes narrowed as she accelerated, slightly annoyed that after hours of conscious searching something had shown up. Again. Must be synchronicity.
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"I'm a clone!" "No, Arrowhawk, you're not." "CLOOOOOONE"
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"Yeah, real inspiring," drawled Geckoman, lying on a moon-dust covered incline. He had foolishly had his Christmas dinner with Liz before teleporting up with Erik and Min, and was full of turkey and trimming and ham and veggies and oh god why. He lifted the arms of his space suit, slightly cumbersome, to recline behind his helmet. He'd brought his own custom spacesuit with him, and as such it largely resembled his usual costume. Only a little bulkier, with a full helmet with orange tinted lens, and large yellow Gs emblazoned on each side. He'd even stuck his belt on the outside of it. Geckoman was oddly quiet, staring up at all the stars and vast infinite darkness of space he could see above him. "Man, it makes you wonder. With all that... space out in space, how many weird and horrific things are out there? How many of them want to come here? Do we need more lasers?"
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Can I use the fact you can technically reallocate Equipment pre-adventure to trade in the garage of vehicles (stuck on Earth) for a 9ep space suit?
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Equinox patiently watched her familiar sniffling along a trail, having got some of one of the missing person's clothing. It was a long shot, but with few leads, perhaps mundane means could help shine some light on this mystery. "We're... well, this isn't exactly my field of expertise. How are we doing, Fuzzy?" Her raccoon looked over its shoulder at her, and shook its little furry head. <Nope.> Its voice was confused. <Faint. Can't follow it. Sorry.> "We're making little progress," conveyed Dr Drake to Nick. She'd not had to lie to her family, one of the few perks of a public identity. In any case, it was easier to justify than her usual excuses. Dread beings from nether realms was quite nebulous. But her parents at least understood missing people, and while General Drake didn't necessarily approve of who and how she was defending people, he at least supported the notion of it. "How's the dead stuff? Have we found any spirits of the missing people? If not, how likely are they to still be alive? Ghost Girl, you know spectral manifestation rates."
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Arrowhawk slammed shut the laptop, and looked around the dingy room. That... couldn't be possible. She was dead. He'd been at the graveside. Dead people couldn't have children. He reached for his glass of whisky, and downed it in one. And goddamn, Egypt. He levered himself off the bed, and leaned heavily on the night stand, pouring himself another dose. The old man looked over at where his armour and bow leaned against the wall. A daughter. And Egypt. He limped over to them, stripping off his shirt to let him put on the undersuit, and then the full weight of his costume. John Fraser looked at himself in the dingy mirror. A greying, wrinkled old man. Scar tissue framed parts of his jaw, parting the unkempt stubble. His frame, still broad, was draped in black armour, a long cape draped over his back. He let out a long sigh, and pulled up his hood, pushing a domino mask into place under it. "Merry Christmas, John," he growled, picking up the glass and draining it. Bow hefted up on his shoulder, he walked through the shimmering black portal.
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Quibble. Arrowhawk doesn't have a Batcave, or a supercomputer. He's... well, look at how Roy Harper's clone operated in Young Justice series two.
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I HAVE GONE POWER ATTACK MAD. MAAAAAD.
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Geckoman gulped down some more wine. His system rapidly processed and filtered out toxins, he could keep up this pace for a while without it affecting him overly much. He smiled and flipped his unkempt hair around. "L'Oreagecko, because you're worth it?" He chuckled to himself. "C'mon, do you know how many years I've been doing this. I get advertising offers, you know." He leaned back in his seat. "Listen, I'm not objecting to questions, but c'mon. I wear a mask. I don't use my real name. If you want to ask questions, you're going to have to be prepared for the fact that quite a lot of them, I won't answer. As a matter of fact, my powers come from a military-grade nanoserum which rewrites your DNA and cellular structure, one which isn't going to be replicated." He swished the wine in his glass back and forth lazily. "And I don't have the proportional strength of a gecko, I think. Science isn't really my thing either," he confessed. "How strong is a gecko?"
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Geckoman, Geckoman, getting drunk like a gecko can?: 1d20+9 21 Lady, don't even go there!
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Geckoman squinted at the oyster. "No, thanks." He didn't like the look of the wet, slimy things. How was that an aphrodisiac? And clearly the reporter wasn't aware he was dating a reformed supervillain. That was good, that resurfacing wouldn't end well for anyone. He was fairly certain if Liz was here she'd have already shot Shots. "And I'm afraid the goggles stay on," shrugged Geckoman. "Not in love with spandex. The goggles, well, I just tell them I love them. And who would irradiate a gecko? The powers were... sort of an accident with some experimental... stuff."
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OK, in order of priority: Equinox Geckoman Arrowhawk The two team based PCs being first is a deliberate decision, yes >.>