Avenger Assembled

Oof! Well, that's a big hit! That leaves you staggered and dazed. You're not actually bruised again - but you are in rough shape. One more staggered and you're unconscious. Gimmie just a second to post IC. Okay, Mannequin is up.

Woodsman shoots and misses. Sniper is up. She shoots at Hyperactive again. 34 Oh, uh, crap. Well, that's DC 25 on the Toughness save again? On his turn, Spotter will stage a tactical retreat, swing-lineing down to their vehicle. Hyperactive is up.

The great beast closed in on Singularity, shrugging off her blows and advancing with its own sinister intent. Aquaria knew what she had to do. Her mind already swarming with images of Jessie on this planet, grown old and dying, broken and bleeding, and a hundred other horrors, Sea Devil sprang into action. With a wordless bellow, she leaped into the air, right over Jessie's head, her tridents glowing with power in the instant before she slammed them somewhere into the titan's midsection. This creature was not so different than the great beasts of the fathoms but she would not let it it take her friend from her - never! "Begone!" she croaked in a voice made metallic by her armor. "Leave them alone!"

"In a sense. A few were rescued from hands of Leshys engaged in delivery, either on vay or during battle." At the question in Ellis's eyes, Dimitri waved a hand. "Giants who roam the forest and eat children, many of those in those years. Ve had little protection in days when blood sunk deep into our soil." Setting down the old-fashioned corded phone he'd used to take the message from the pilot, he passed on the news of their imminent arrival to his American colleague. "The fate of those lost is unknown. I had hoped that the blast would have spared them from further suffering. But, such is fate. In any case, there are no more Leshys in this part of Russia - and the blast closed the gate sixty years ago. We vill have to improvise."

Hyper-alert, Woodsman walked slowly through the green, his eyes scanning forest and grass alike for any signs of movement. When the dog's body dissolved, his gaze flashed to the scene, taking in its destruction immediately. "Best to move on," he said shortly. "Dogs came from somewhere. Better find it." If they'd come from somebody's kennel, that would help - if they were a wild pack, finding where they rested would give them clues too - and a chance to make sure that the pack didn't spread. He'd seen wild packs loose near people before. As he spoke, he knelt over the corpse, looking singularly unaffected by the carnage of the hunt. His bow balanced across his legs, he tried to see if the dogs had actually brought down the animal themselves or if they'd had help. A hunting pack loose was another problem entirely - because it meant the owners would be coming soon.

The locals were hesitant to talk to strangers, especially ones who didn't sound like or look like most of the people that lived in the neighborhood. But both Set and Sekhmet had their various ways of being persuasive - especially since, as one elderly grandmother pointed out with a laugh, "you don't look like cops, eh?" It was a long day's work by the time the godlings were finished, but they'd learned much. Lady Horus had first appeared in the general area of Hardwick Park in early January, either on the first of the year proper or so close as it made no difference. Her appearances tended to be short but memorable, a flash of gold and white in the sky here, a crack of thunder from a divinely-empowered ankh there. Her focus seemed to actually be the park itself rather than the neighborhood as a whole, driving out first the crackheads from the northern half of the park, then rumbling in the southern half of the park first with some local boys, then the "She's a pretty lady behind that mask!" said one cheerful young man with a mustache and Central American tattoos, who Set and Sekhmet had found taking their ease at a sit-down table inside one bodega that was slightly less shabby then the others. He was in the company of other young men, most of them relaxed and easy-going, and several of them unsubtle in the knives and weapons they were hiding. "Tough, too. This big Irish cop punched her in the face and she threw him right over his car! Said he'd get worse if she saw him touching another girl." "Come to think of it, they haven't been after us since, so good for her. She doesn't like us much, though. I tried to tell her were just community protectors like her, but she didn't like it. Probably some do-gooder from Chicago," opined another, probably the best-dressed of the group. "She'll realize Bedlam's no place for Shakespeare in the park and she'll vamoose back home."

Without Singularity there, Sea Devil would surely have bounded over the Surfacer barricade and made her way to the fighting. With their guns and vehicles, the Surfacers might slow an Atlantean force - but they couldn't stop it. But Jessie was there, and Aquaria knew she couldn't let either her anger or her terror drive her today. Recognizing the other two females from the holiday party earlier in the year (or was it last year? Surfacer calendars were hard to remember), she and Singularity joined Voin Zhenschina and Volcanic. "Even Atlanteans fear fire from Below," she croaked to Volcanic without preamble, thinking of the blasphemous powers of the Atlantean royals to assume the form of water itself. Glamazon had no such powers, she knew. She wondered suddenly where the Atlantean princess was, right now. "Can you burn them?"

Citizen stared at the Atlantean in his grip, remembering his Claremont lessons about Atlantis - or accessing the android's memory banks, depending on how you looked at it. He processed tough skin and muscles designed for underwater locomotion in a heartbeat, thinking oddly of the plankton trawler he'd left behind in Tronik to come here. "You'll survive a fall from this distance," he said with calm authority before throwing the Atlantean as far as he could away from Freedom City, pushing his cybernetically-enhanced strength hard to get some distance. From there he turned and flew back towards the bridge, the radio transmissions from the police cars stuck on the bridge catching his attention. He didn't remember the Day of Wrath, not really, but he was reminded of the footage he'd seen - the robots rampaging, the citizens in terror. But precious few people to save them now. Trusting Asad and the other heroes to handle the oncoming Atlantean horde, Citizen concentrated on the dangling truck. Zipping forward at full speed, he drove his fists through the thin metal of the hood and grabbed directly onto the engine block, the hot metal scorching his hands but doing no serious damage to the metallic reinforcements underneath. "Get out!" he called to the driver, "it's going to fall!" If it fell on the oncoming Atlanteans, well, that was no bad thing.

Did the Search turn anything up, HGM?

Hard to Bee A God Harrier/Miss Americana The perfectly symmetrical hives of the robot bees lay by the algae-covered sea, towering high overhead like so many skyscrapers cast from metal, rock, and dirt. From their construction, Steve judged that the bees had reforged the remains of one of Sanctuary’s long-dead cities, perhaps one that hadn’t been built on this site on Prime, and made it their own. Though not hostile to humans, the robot bees preferred their isolation, far from their fleshy cousins, and had few visitors from the human settlements elsewhere on the continent. They had been silent on the radio for days before Fleur de Joie had visited to find them still and inert - and so the greatest robotics expert on Earth-Prime had been summoned. She had, after much deliberation, sent her assistant. The isolation was one guard against said assistant being disturbed - a bodyguard, on loan from her business rival, was another. He watched as Gina Evans, bundled against the chill of a February by the sea even in this New Jersey, went about the last of what had been hours of work. Gina had been quiet for the entire trip to Sanctuary, allowing Steve to speak for her and all but drag her around for the teleport and very short guided tour of Sanctuary. Now though, alone but for the wind and the electronics, she was much more vocal, and almost all of it was cursing. New Jersey was cold in February, but not as cold as this place, bereft of trees and rows of buildings, open to the biting, stinging air that blew in off the toxic water. It was that wind that had caused the trouble in the first place, corroding the robotic creatures faster than their self-maintenance programs could keep up. Gina had managed to diagnose and repair enough of the maintenance units that they would be able to fix the others, given proper supplies, but the colony would have to be moved further inland. That was not her department. Activating the monstrous robots was. It had been kind of fun to poke around in somebody else’s playground, have a look at the way Beekeeper handled AI, but she recognized magitech when she saw it. Whatever he’d done would not be replicable by others, and if she messed with it too much, she might damage whatever made it work in the first place. But she could fix the gears and wires. When there was pause enough in Gina’s cursing to suggest to Steve she was angry at no more than the wind and the smell, he joined her with their supplies - Archetech-brand thermoses that held both hot soup and hot coffee. “Take a break,” he suggested to her. Gina might hate the cold and the outside in these rough climes, but she would work to an angry exhaustion inside them even so. A break also let him sit next to her on a particularly large beachside rock, his bulk partially blocking the wind. There wasn’t much to see out here, but the hives themselves had a certain rough beauty, he judged. “The sooner I finish, the sooner we can get the hell out of here,” Gina muttered, shivering miserably as she drank her coffee. This was by far the longest she’d spent outdoors in years, and just her luck it had to be terrible weather. She was definitely going to catch cold, and then she’d have to doctor herself, and that was always weird and uncomfortable no matter how much medical experience she picked up as Miss A. “I should’ve said I was busy and made Dragonfly do this. She’s at least got a battlesuit. Or I should’ve come with the robot and brought my body along in a box of supplies, then at least I’d be in a nice warm box.” She’d considered it, actually, but knowing the florakinetic’s bond to her adopted planet, hadn’t been certain that Fleur wouldn’t have been able to sense the stowaway without even trying. “I just gotta run the final check routines and make sure the maintenance drones are ready to go. And input some instructions that if they ever have a mass failure again, they goddamn go inside to do it!” “You have done well.” The experience would not endear Gina to the outdoors, but she had done it even so, and he knew what that meant. Steve put his arm around her shoulders, though of course through the layers of clothing Gina was wearing, there wasn’t much heat to share. “Fleur de Joie will make sure the bees follow that command. Perhaps now they will worship you as a secret mechanical god, one that comes while they sleep and heals their wounds.” He sipped his soup, the hot chicken broth provided for them by artisans in the town they’d left behind. “You could do worse than to be a god.” He smiled slightly, a strange image of Gina as seen by robotic bees popping into his head. “Only a short ride back to the village, and then back to your bed, from here.” He had also provided the transportation for their trip. She snorted. “Being Sharl’s god is bad enough, I don’t know that I want to pick up any more of a following. Especially not if they’re robot insects the size of trucks. God only knows what kinds of offerings they’d try to provide.” Downing the last of the soup, Gina climbed awkwardly off the rock, even stiffer with cold now than she was when she say down, and went to troubleshoot the bees. Within just a few minutes, a half dozen of the massive creations were coming online, fluttering their mechanical (and largely ornamental) wings and taking to the air. Still in troubleshooting mode, they said nothing until Gina finished looking them all over, scanning them with her instruments, and making a few adjustments. “All right,” she told them, bringing them fully online at last, “you lot are looking pretty good now. I’ve uploaded instructions for repairing your buddies, and there’s a bunch of raw materials to use in those crates over there. Try to stay out of trouble, and get your hive moved away from the water as soon as you can. It’s bad for you, corrosive. You’ll break down again if you don’t.” Gina rarely had trouble talking to robots. Reawakened and mobile again, the bees did not worship Gina - which was probably for the best, mused Steve. Instead they buzzed their thanks in mechanical voices that sounded like the recordings of bee noises amplified loud - “THANKZZ FOR ZZAVING UZZ! WE WILL FIX OUR ZIZTERZ. WILL YOU ZZTAY ON ZANCTUARY? WE COULD LEARN MUCH FROM YOU.” As they hovered in the air like so many warmachines, Steve took this opportunity to gather up their possessions to hastily speed their departure. Gina was ready to leave, and surrounded by these buzzing mechanical creatures, friendly though they were - he was ready to leave too. “Nope, I gotta go, it’s way too cold out here for me,” Gina informed them all hastily. “If anything crops up though and you’re still having trouble, just ask for Dragonfly. See you!” With that, she hastily packed away the rest of her tools and lifted her arms so Steve could pick her up. She absolutely detested being carried, but right now, it was the lesser of the many possible evils. She wanted a ride home, a hot bubblebath and her basement, exactly in that order. And she suspected she wasn’t going to want anything to do with honey for quite awhile.

That does miss, i'm afraid! Okay, Mannequin, you're up.

Hologram and Fast-Forward Bee Mine It was February 2017. Bryant Haliday Cline was six months old. He was also in his late 80s. He had fallen asleep in his baby bed next to his giant stuffed bee, the slightly-bedraggled toy Richard had picked up at a secondhand shop in Los Angeles that the baby had bonded with as much as a baby could bond with a toy. Bryant was a good sleeper - if he had his bee with him. Bryant took two or three naps a day - if his sleep schedule wasn’t interrupted. Richard was hanging out in the baby’s room, the converted home office that he’d converted back into a baby bedroom when they’d come home with Bryant six months earlier, touching Paige with his mind downstairs while he assessed just how asleep Bryant was. He and Paige were experienced in living their lives (or at least taking a nap) when the baby was asleep - but you had to be sure. ~At least he’s a long way from trying to walk in on us. He really likes this bee thing. The other day he started babbling about bees when he was sitting on my lap outside. Or maybe just babbling the b sound,~ he admitted. ~Yeah, he loves his bee,~ Paige agreed from downstairs. ~I’ve been trying to find another one like it in case it gets lost or needs washed, but no luck so far. I’ll probably have to get on the internet. Why don’t you come downstairs, he’s out like a light.~ They’d had to move their editing computers and screens into the master bedroom when the baby arrived, a situation that wasn’t working too well for anybody. Paige was already making noises about taking over Will’s room now that he was off at college and only using it on odd weekends and parts of the summer. No sense in letting space sit idle in the already cramped house. The thought produced the deed - and Richard was downstairs on the couch next to Paige. In an earlier phase of their lives, with the kids out of the house or asleep, he probably would have invited her back upstairs. But while they were better parents for their third kid than their first - they were also nearly twenty years older, even if they’d only felt half of that. He settled in next to her on the couch, sliding his arm around her shoulders. “Maybe we can make the bee thing his new theme. There’s probably enough bee merch out there we could decorate his whole room that way,” he kidded. “Stick him in a bee costume for Halloween, take pictures. He’s too little to get sick of it yet.” “Or hitch a ride out to Fleur de Joie’s little bee sanctuary universe,” Paige suggested. “I’ve been thinking about asking her to let us do a special out there for awhile now. She’s not a supercriminal, but she’s got all those giant bees that used to belong to Beekeeper II. I found archival footage of them attacking Freedom City, we could juxtapose it with what life is like for them now, maybe get an interview with a few of them. And maybe get an interview with Beekeeper II as well, see if he’ll tell us how he created them in the first place.” “Yeah, that’s a good idea,” said Richard, nodding as he thought about it. “I forgot those guys can talk. I think a couple of Nicholson parents were on the team that helped stop them, maybe they know something. Man, you should have heard Ma when that guy showed up,” he went on, smirking a little. “She’s been friends with Brian for sixty-five years but she was mad as hell that somebody had bought the Bee-Keeper name and not hers.” Absently he rubbed Paige’s shoulders. “Have to see if Holly’s interested. Maybe we can convince her the outdoors aren’t so bad after all.” Their last family camping trip, dating back now before Bryant’s rebirth, had not gone terribly well. “Not for a first trip,” Paige told him firmly. “I would want to go myself first and see what the bee colony is like. Some sentient insects have an actual hive mind, one consciousness shared amongst all the members. I wouldn’t want to expose Holly to that yet, especially not with creatures that size. From what I’ve heard, these bees seem more individual than that, but I don’t want her scared or overwhelmed. Maybe we could bring her out for follow-up interviews. Is Beekeeper I still around, then? We could talk with him too, if he’ll give an interview.” “Okay, okay,” said Richard, raising his hands slightly. “We’ll hold her back till we know it’s safe.” He could kid himself that his daugher would wind up queen of the bees if that happened - but he and Paige both remembered the day their daughter’s powers had appeared. “Yeah, Brian’s got to be at least ninety and doesn’t have any powers, but he keeps himself in good shape. He says it’s from regular exercise, avoiding cigarettes and alcohol, and eating a jar of honey every day. You met him, I think, he was at Ma’s 70th, the little guy who kept talking about a macrobiotic diet and chiropractors.” Anna Cline had stopped throwing big parties for her birthday after that - there wasn’t anyone to invite anymore. “It’s a miracle he doesn’t have double-diabetes,” Paige muttered. “I think I remember him a little, jumpy little guy. I’ll kick the idea to the production staff, see if they can start running down some background. If we can get Fleur de Joie to bite on it, we’ll have ourselves a show.” She made a couple of notes on the computer, then leaned back and stretched leisurely. “So, we have maybe an hour while the one’s asleep and the other’s at school. Sex or nap?” she asked, her voice still quite conversational. “Well it’s not a big jar - I think he specially feeds the bees from-” Richard Cline looked at his beautiful wife of twenty-five years, seeing the pink-haired girlfriend, partner in crime, partner in life, all in the same moment, and didn’t feel quite so old. “Mmm, you _do_ have the best ideas, honey.” He put his arms around her and kissed her neck, running his fingers through her hair. “I’ll give you both,” he promised warmly, “and you can pay me back anyway you like. He chuckled, and pressed his mouth on hers. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around,” she told him, smiling against his lips. “You can do much more with a free hour than most men your age.” She poked him lightly in the ribs when he huffed in mock-indignation, then took his hand to lead him to the bed, grinning like the cat about to get the canary. “As for paying you back, well, I think we may have one of those bear-shaped bottles of honey around here someplace. I’ve got a couple ideas.”

Okay, Hyperactive is now up.

Mannequin's attack worked, making the man's leg buckle as he cried out in pain and clutched the sudden wound on his leg. Figuring that the spotter was tied down in combat with the strange mechanical-looking man, Woodsman tried popping out of cover to take another shot at the sniper - bad idea, as the bolt whizzed right past the agile woman's head. Riley snapped back down into cover fast, repressing the urge to curse. It wasn't that he objected to the two other heroes coming to his rescue, especially since they seemed to know what they were doing, but he'd hoped he could at least add something to the fight. Being a damsel isn't really my thing! The only lady in the fight didn't seem interested in being helpless either - and much to Riley's annoyance, was turning out to be an excellent shot! She squeezed off another burst of automatic weapons fire at Hyperactive - this was another narrow miss but the bullets this time struck a steel pipe by his face, throwing a wave of sparks against his skin that sparked and bit. Bad luck in that fraction of a second could have left him blind!

Avoiding the grabby hands of local law enforcement returned them to their larger problem - what were they going to do to find Lady Horus? This wasn't Freedom City with hero watchers happily tweeting hero sightings every few minutes, nor was Lady Horus herself the sort of person who had a public access line. A cab ride got them out to Hardwick Park, where the false Sunhawk had made her most memorable appearance, just as the thick clouds overhead made good on the promises they'd been making since Set and Sekhmet arrived in Bedlam. Snow was falling, thick and fast, by the time they stepped outside at their destination. Hardwick Park wasn't the worst part of Bedlam by any means - Set and Sekhmet could see bodegas, resale shops, and other stores open for business up and down the street where their cabbie had left them, one intrepid fellow keeping warm in a heavy Maniacs jacket and by the warmth of his own pupusa stand. The buildings were small, one or two story, mostly older homes that looked to have seen better days. Down at the end of the street was Hardwick Park itself, its elaborate stonework and arches the sign of the architecture of a previous generation. The streets weren't terribly crowded here - the cold weather was keeping most people (except for the heavily-bundled up) inside.

That hits, just barely. Toughness vs 25: http://orokos.com/roll/490178 = 19! Okay, so he's bruised and dazed. Woodsman is up. Woodsman takes a shot at the Sniper, figuring that the armored woman with the assault rifle is the biggest threat. http://orokos.com/roll/490182 = 17 That's a miss! Under normal circumstances, I'd spend an HP to reroll, but this supposed to be a chance for you guys to shine. New Round: Sniper: 29 Spotter: 25, bruised and dazed Hyperactive: 24 Mannequin: 19 Woodsman: 13 Sniper startles Hyperactive as a Move Action: http://orokos.com/roll/490184 = 31! He doesn't appear to be capable of resisting that! The DC to hit him is now 18. http://orokos.com/roll/490185 = 35 Geez! Okay, good thing she didn't power attack there That's still gonna hurt - that becomes a DC 25 Tou save. (I would definitely suggest spending an HP on that.) Go ahead and roll your Toughness, K, then I'll make a big post ending the round and starting a new one.

"I promise I'll use backup - all kinds of backup." agreed Sharl, smiling slightly at his pun - and in English no less! He was starting to relax, at least a little. Maybe something crazy had happened in Emerald City - but Gina was the same as she ever was (maybe even a little better, though it was hard to tell just from looking at her code), and that made things less crazy. He'd get back there, get a new body finished up, and he'd take down whoever had destroyed the first robot, and things would be good. "The next time you have me in your system, I'll be sending you pictures of whatever happened to the robot and shots of whoever did it going to jail." He opened the door, the fuzzy outlines of transmission before him, and said, "Thanks, Gina!"

Sandman had been warned about Comrade Frost - but Dimitri seemed unusually subdued all through the trip. He'd conscripted a Russian An-124 for the purposes of their journey, assuring Sandman that mundanity would provide anonymity for their trip. He'd spent much of the flight, especially once they were outside of American airspace, doing something that Sandman had hardly ever seen someone do outside of very old movies - smoke a series of cigarettes that he stubbed out on the palm of his hand when he was done, and pour through carefully typed documents with sepia photographs that looked to date at least to the 1950s. Everything was written, of course, in Russian. "It was bad, after the war years. So many orphans taken...we never had a number." He took a drag off the cigarette, looking at Sandman across the conference table that the modified cargo plane carried in its belly, permanently affixed to the interior bulkhead. "It was only when children of powerful began to disappear that action was taken." He slid a picture across the table - one that looked rather ominous. "Totskoye - 1954. The West thought it was nuclear test amid simulated battlefield. Not so."

"No, I'll go see if I can find what happened to the main robot." He had a backup body in Emerald City that the Archetech West team would be able to put together without too much trouble - the modular unit was just a matter of plugging things together and reassembling them. Gina being Gina, she'd probably supervised that assembly on her end. He wasn't worried about finding a duplicate of himself running around - but it certainly would make his life easier if he could find that source of spare parts. Plus, Gina would be much less irritated with him. "I'll see if I can find out who blew me up, too." He summoned a bowl of wet dog food for Laira, who happily began wolfing it down. With his other hand, he gestured in the air. Sliding metal doors were more natural to him, but in Gina's system he always defaulted to the Terran model, summoning forth a wooden, brass-knobbed door that would lead him across Terra's network to Emerald City. "Thanks for putting me back together," he told her. "And say hi to Mr. Steve for me."

"I don't know!" exclaimed Sharl, sounding more frustrated than frightened. "I have a lot to do. Had a lot to do. I don't even think English has the right clause for this-" He switched to Lor as easily as a computer program flipping a switch, knowing Gina would keep up with him without a problem. "The last thing I remember, I was sitting down to make sure I got my backups in before the suborbital rocket launch on the 20th and then the third grade tour on the 21st. Wait, you don't know what happened?" He knew that the redundant systems that stored his memories and personality off-site were remotely activated when his wireless connection went offline terminally - but they'd never before been activated without direct human intervention. And if Gina didn't know, that meant nobody else knew. "Did I-did the robot just disappear, or something?"

"Hey girl." Sharl petted the dog's head, running his fingers through her soft brown fur. Laira, the name he'd finally settled on for the mutt, was a good dog - and seemed to have missed him since the last time he'd been in the system. How long have I been in here, anyway? He could guess what had happened - he'd been on patrol over Emerald City, flying high and enjoying the power that came from an electromagnetic engine in his heart, now he was in a system as familiar to him as Tronik's - and he was no longer in his robotic body. There was only one reason why such a transition had happened - something had happened to his robotic body. "Hey, did you miss me?" He didn't really like dogs on the outside - but Laira was different. She was his dog. He rose out of his Terran-style bed, Laira following close behind, and walked out to the kitchen where a personal 'computer' let him interface directly with Gina's system. He noted the date first, and his hand went to his mouth. Whispering aloud, heedless of Laira's importunings for someone to fill her foodbowl, he said, "It's the twenty-third? But I was flying on the nineteenth-"

Only Hyperactive's speed saved him from the volley of bullets that earned him - a quick burst of automatic weapons fire that nearly took his head off. Maybe it wasn't a surprise for a man of his speed to dodge bullets, but most people didn't get that close! The sniper, a black-haired woman in thick, tightly-plated body armor that glowed a gunmetal grey, was leaping to her feet even as she fired, rolling out of the way with great speed of her own. Maybe she wasn't as fast as Hyperactive, but she clearly had metahuman speed to go with her formidable technology and training. Her partner, a caped redhead in a domino mask who favored basic black, responded by pulling a grenade from his belt and throwing it at the rooftop beneath their feet - the two of them immediately vanishing inside the smoke cloud that subsequently erupted. Where had they gone? Neither of them had shown much interest in banter when the fight had started, instead moving with the smooth, silent precision of a long-practiced team.

Typically you'll just post as K did when rolling initiative, V! Initiative: Sniper: 29 Spotter: 25 Hyperactive: 24 Mannequin: 19 Woodsman: 13 The sniper takes a shot at Hyperactive with her assault rifle: http://orokos.com/roll/489392 = 22! A miss. The spotter drops a smoke grenade to give them localized Concealment Hyperactive will be up as soon as I post IC.

It wasn't long after that that the thugs were in the hands of Freedom City's finest - zipped there personally by the Cline family. Richard never quite got over the novelty of visiting a police station as a hero instead of as a villain, and under the circumstances managed to avoid his usual sharp tongue around law enforcement. These guys hadn't exactly hurt his feelings, but on the other hand he wouldn't be sorry to see the back of them. Lousy punk kids. Paige could tell how much he was trying to _not_ think of how old these men he'd just called kids were. "Make sure you put the head goon there in his own cell, don't want him giving anybody any ideas." As the cops took care of the thugs, he sent a thought back to the family. _I have no idea who that woman is - anything about her look familiar to you, honey?_

Initiative time! Woodsman 10 + True Random Number GeneratorMin: Max: Result:3Powered by RANDOM.ORG Woodsman goes on 13. Sniper 10+ True Random Number GeneratorMin: Max: Result:19Powered by RANDOM.ORG 29 Spotter 8+ True Random Number GeneratorMin: Max: Result:17Powered by RANDOM.ORG 25 So it's Sniper: 29 Spotter: 25 Woodsman: 13 in terms of init so far