Avenger Assembled

Meeting the Patriot was a bit like meeting the mayor. Stadium security was waiting for them at Gate 8, where they were whisked through the crowd to a private office that the Patriot had carved out so she could actually get some face-time with Carmen and her boyfriend. "La Puma Negra, Golden Star, so glad you could make it!" she said, stepping away from a red-haired man in suit and bifocals to briefly embrace Carmen. Michael was tall, and big - oh well, Ashley had been the shortest person in the room more than once in her life and it was all too common with superheroes. He's so young though - damn, he's probably just going to get taller. She shook Michael's hand with a firm grip inside her red leather gloves. The upper part of her face was covered by her helmet and goggles, but the teens could see her smile. "Give us a minute, would you, Eamon?" Her presence seemed to fill the room, projecting a calm, cool air of authority. The redhead nodded and said in a slight Irish accent "They need you in five" before stepping out of the small office, which from the pictures on the wall belonged to someone in Comet publicity. The Patriot kept looking up at Michael for a moment before turning her attention to Carmen. "Glad you two made it! Sorry, I don't have long before I have to get back to work. If you've got your game faces on, I can take you with me to meet some people, or you can head straight for your seats. Just make sue there's no nonsense either way," she said, not sounding like she was kidding, "a lot of people are going to be watching. That said," she amended, trying to keep it light, "people forgive two kids on a date more than you'd think." Or so she guessed - not having ever been on a date on high school.

Richard and Paige got out to Meadowbrook the way they'd been going places together since they were teenagers - by holding hands and running. While technically that got them there in the blink of an eye; it also gave them time to talk a little more thanks to the benefits of telepathy amplified by temporal manipulation, the city whizzing by them so fast it might have been a blur. I know, I'm a soft touch for people from the old days, he admitted wryly. Don't worry, this isn't going to be another Gary and June. Hell...maybe we can at least decorate his room, get him a new television, all that stuff. He was consciously trying to keep images of their old friend in extremis from any number of causes out of his head.

@Thevshi that's correct! @Dracostern: the Deep Ones have appeared, climbing up onto the platform, and Aquaria has encouraged everyone to prove themselves with feats of strength or power! People are making their checks to see how impressive they are - and if they notice anything in particular.

When she had a moment to catch her breath - and not smell the sweet scent of nerve agents or the horror of mustard gas - Neko looked around and spotted something all-too-familiar. As her ears twitched, red glowing words appeared hovering in mid-air not far from them - THERE IS A DRONE HERE - highlighted by a rotating catgirl head that might have been Neko's. The floating catgirl heads pointed like arrows towards a zipping, mobile, floating robot drone that seemed to be spying on them. IT CANNOT SEE WHAT I AM DOING. "At least we are safe now!" said Neko loudly. "Everyone sound off!" The words plus floating catgirl heads around the drone were joined by - KILL IT BEFORE IT SEES YOU.

Notice: nat 20 for 30!

Sea Devil Aquaria stood back, a hand over her mouth, and when she spoke it was with a terrible, aching grief in her rumbling voice. "They were in cages. They were in cages!" The last word was an angry bellow, punctured by a crack of her trident's blunt end against the floor that cracked the wood beneath. She knew of the brutality of Atlanteans and Surfacers alike, who imprisoned their enemies rather than kill them, confining them to a small space where one's screams echoed along the walls and inside one's head - she stopped for a moment and turned, throwing open one of the windows. But of course the acrid, dry air here was hardly a soothing balm. "<I will free you, brothers and sisters. When the stars are right>," she croaked softly, almost to herself. "Are they dead?" she asked Nick. It was a horrifying thought in and of itself; the spirit surviving after the death of the flesh like some Surfacer phantom, but of course Deep Ones trapped or kept up here would have had no one to eat their flesh or crack their bones. "Did they die up here - in this place?"

okay, go ahead and post IC as you like, guys.

Neko popped up next to Vueriz, looking infernally pleased with herself. "Enjoying the show?" she whispered to her alien friend softly. With her illusion active around herself, she looked like nothing more than a modestly-dressed Japanese girl and not a swirling cauldron of magical energy. She smiled down at the little alien, showing not even a hint of teeth. It was good to have things go well.

Neko spends an HP to double her dodge bonus so it doesn't hit.

Patriot If you had a good reading knowledge of some of the languages of space, it wasn't hard to figure out the all-call button on the engine room's intercom - probably typically used for an engineer to give an emergency message to the rest of the ship. In a low, throaty voice, she spoke directly into the microphone, so close the audio pickup caught her breathing, deliberately making her tone off-putting. "<Hi. Patriot here. You don't know me yet. But you will. I want to hear the sound of escape pods. Otherwise I'm going to get angry. And you know what happens when Terrans get angry, don't you? You will.>" She clinked her grenade off the side of the intercom and said, "<Twenty.......Nineteen.....>"

Ashley is having fun talking sh!t so she'll keep it up. I rolled badly so I will spend an HP on Intimidate. https://orokos.com/roll/1006251 with the HP, that's a 32! (rolled the wrong value)

Richard's first thought - and maybe his second one - was about bringing their checkbook. It wasn't that Mark had particularly been a money sponge when they were younger; they'd all lived score to score and spent and shared money like it was water as long as they had it. (When they weren't feuding, usually about when someone in the group had been convinced that someone else was making a pass at them - or wasn't!) But the reality of it was that he and Paige had been lucky. Lucky to get out of it when they did, lucky to survive the Terminus Invasion of '93 that had made their pardon possible, lucky to have happy, healthy kids (and one to grow on, for that matter), and lucky to find work afterwards that made them household names for nothing more dangerous than wacky television adventures and that meant they wouldn't be hurting for money even after Bryant went off to college. And hell - they were also lucky that their superpowers meant they were slowing down instead of living in a retirement home. They had years before they retired - and between their three kids and the money they were all heading towards, they were never going to live in a place like Meadowbrook. Guys like Mark...well it wasn't hard to imagine what had happened. There was a lot of money in Sierra Madre, even if we never saw any of it...if he wants money, we've got it. Depending on how much. He looked at Paige across the dining room table, the letter sitting between them. Having turned sixty years old the year before, he'd made the conscious decision to stop dying his spiky crewcut - and if it wasn't as grey as it should be at his age, well, it was a lot grayer than it had been in 1987. The thought of Mark, who had once been so young and vital, reduced to asking them for money in his retirement - well it was an ugly thought. But it wouldn't be the first time it had happened to an old friend.

Go ahead and make an interaction skill check - or Perform, if you are demonstrating your strength to the tribe. You may also make a Notice check if you like. Or have an HP for failing it, up to you. =D

A swirl of voices were shouting in Aquaria's mind. A glowing blue, translucent woman who declared "You are a bad teacher!" A round-faced, late-middle-aged African-American woman who declared "Maybe you should be back in a cage!" And worst of all from the emotional color of the moment, an athletic brunette woman, one who looked exactly like a picture Blue Bolt had seen hanging in the Claremont gym, who turned from a wildly daubed easel to declare "You are a bad friend!" "Everything is fine!" Aquaria trumpeted, her throat throbbing as she made eye contact with Mrs. Harcourt, who seemed to be giving her a distinct Get on with it look to the eyes of the teenagers. "We are just meeting each other!" She extemporized quickly, trying desperately to think of how to explain normal things to the strange children of the Surface. "Deep Ones are - strong. And tough! We eat meat, we don't - grow things. I told this tribe, that we could be strong together! By meeting you! Deep Ones greet each other by being strong!" By this time perhaps a dozen Deep Ones had swarmed their way up onto the level of the walkway, each of them a hopping, frog-faced, fish-bodied abomination - but on closer inspection there was intelligence in those gold-black eyes as they studied the young heroes, keeping to the shelter of the shadows all around. They were all but nude and perfectly inhuman, with green and white bodies mottled with tribal tattoos like those above. Boal had meanwhile turned to Aquaria, clutching her writhing spawn against her chest, and declared, "<Grandmother that one is poison! What if it poisons the water?>" "<She will not poison the water!>" croaked Aquaria firmly. She was making introductions - the one with one eye was Cyclops, the one with the giant lamprey-like mouth was Larry, the one with the dangling, glowing light over its eyes was Isaac, and so on. "You see! Mighty friends!" she boomed. "Show them you are strong, and not weak!"

Sea Devil Aquaria gave a basso rumble of terrible sympathy before she lashed out, lightning-fast, and caught Nick's hand with an iron grip stronger than any human's. Slick green fingers intersected with five human digits. "You are not them." She continued and echoed something she'd said years ago, in a private place to one she loved. "The voices are lying to you. Do not listen. You are stronger than them. Trust me. Stronger. Together." She held on with a grip suggesting she would never let go, fixing Nick in the regard of her vast black and gold eyes, anchoring herself with her other hand against the table.

Her wife wasn't interested in Earth sporting events, which meant she was safely home with the boy and Ashley didn't need to worry. Well, more than she ever did. Instead she could concentrate on the important things. "They're here," one of her several staffers was telling her - Karen, who had stuck her head in the secured dressing room while Nat polished up her makeup. "They're playing carnival games out in Lot B." "Okay, phone me, would you Karen? Thanks," said Ashley, who knew better than to interrupt Nat while he was polishing up the blush and foundation that would make her look natural on giant flat-screen TVs in high definition even underneath her helmet. She typed out a quick message to Carmen, using the user icon of the Patriot - which was of course the American flag (what else would it be? Ashley Tran's user icon was a picture of her son in her wife's arms) MEET AT GATE 8 ASAP. With the text done, she looked approvingly in the mirror as Nat finished. "Nice one." With that, conscious of the crowd who'd be waiting for her outside the dressing room, she gave the hair and makeup guy a quick grin before she pulled on her helmet. With the upper part of her face obscured and her pixie-cut red-white-and-blue hair invisible, she was indeed the Patriot. She pulled on her jacket, carefully pinned a brand-new pin for the occasion - a mama pelican and her chicks on a blue field, the flag of the state of Louisiana. The closest the Patriot could get to taking a side. "Let's do this," she said, nodding as Karen cracked open the door and she strode out to greet her public. This wasn't her favorite part of the job but she'd learned how to do it well, and with a few words here and one gloved fistbump, she was past the small crowd of well-wishers and carefully managed reporter and on her way to find her sidekick and her boyfriend.

A real mad dog would have hied off after prey at this point, barking his head off. Instead a growling Copper Knight backed up among his peers, teeth bared and jaws dripping with the faintest traces of ichor. "Be warned friends," he said in a voice that sounded perfectly human despite his guise, "their blood is a poison! If you strike with your body, strike most carefully." A litany of curses ran through Neko's mind as she backed up too, concentrating as she adjusted the illusory Katanaju on the sly, letting it take damage that seemingly perfectly matched the various attacks it was getting - even those from her erstwhile peers who couldn't see her standing her miming the thing! "This is." Suddenly the giant form of her ancient tormentor exploded in a shower of foul-smelling, rotten gore, before crumbling down to an animate skeleton crawling with fiery, monstrous cats that writhed around like so many feline maggots! Suddenly the cats (and the illusion) disappeared from everyone's sight - just as they swarmed their way into the eyepieces of every Omegadrone nearby!

With no reachable enemies in sight, Owain readies an attack against the first Omegadrone that comes near one of his friends (that he can reach): if he can, he'll take 10 and hit 18. Neko switches her illusion over to its obscure effect. because she's a good hero she'll exempt everyone who's a hero or a civilian, including Force OPS and the people who failed her will save.

https://orokos.com/roll/1005774 = 18

Confronted with a crisis and the absence of their mentor, Neko called out a loud "Oki te kudusai! Oki te kudusai!" that reached directly into the ears of everyone in the camp. She scrabbled out of her tent, tail poofed up, as she took in the scene. She remembered the pink mist from the day before, but given the present context, she leaped right to an assumption born from hard and frightening training. Gas! Acting by reflex, she called in a tone that brooked no argument - and showed her fear. "Up the hill! Climb! Climb!" And then (when she was sure the others were moving) she ran, bounding her way towards higher elevations, up a tree, and away from where the heavier-than-air pink mist would settle.

"This is not how it is done," rumbled Sea Devil as she rose to her feet. "You do not use a knife. You use teeth," she said, illustrating her point by putting her armored wrist up to her own fanged mouth. "Especially if they were told. I do not think these are hybrids. Hybrids are - not like this," she went on, obviously having trouble articulating the idea. "I would have to taste their blood to be sure," she added frankly. On her own, or with her friends, she'd have done so without hesitation - but not with Nick and Artificer in the house with her. "This says," she said, pointing to the blood on the wall, "'silence'. I think they could hear it. Can you hear it?" she asked in a rumble for Artificer and Nick's benefit. "I can hear it now, as I could hear it when I arrived. I think it is - everywhere, here." She made a noise in the back of her throat, a low wubwub, then shook her whole body, obviously not quite able to simulate it for Surfacer ears.

Neko "This is a tale I heard from my mother when I was a little girl, about a distant ancestor of ours..." Neko's story was about a samurai who promised his dying first wife that he would never remarry, only to provoke her angry specter stalking his home when he foolishly broke that vow. In the true darkness of the Lost World, with only the light of the fire to see by, her own gold eyes glowing as the firelight shone on her. Neko was an enthusiastic storyteller, especially as the death started. At the denouement, she finished, "And when he picked up what was left of her body, he realized that only her heart had never decayed - but when he felt the blood and smelled the perfume - he realized it was not her heart at all, it was the heart - of his second wife!" She laughed, showing teeth, as she folded her hands in her lap. "kekekeke..." More practically, she said modestly as the story faded, "If anyone does want to keep watch, I only sleep a few hours a night. I can be up early."

Owain smiled at Michael and clapped him on the arm. "Michael! Thank you!" he said, taking the button and immediately pinning it to his blue flannel shirt. "An auspicious token of what will surely be a fine day." He sat back on his bench, peering thoughtfully out the window as they approached the farm, his mind going back to places not so distant from this one. "Tis remarkable, is it not?" he declared cheerfully. "In this age of city and machine, these people earn their keep by selling visits to their farmstead! It reminds me of the zoo." And hadn't that been a conversation, when he and Neko had first toured this one. "Perhaps we'll have a chance at riding horses while we're there. 'Zounds, it's been ages since I got my hands on good horseflesh..." He added speculatively.

Neko "Thank you," said Neko politely. "I could have caught something larger, but I didn't want to attract attention," she didn't look to be in the mood to discuss where she'd gained her survival experience. As soon as the fire was sit, she sat and stared at it, huge golden eyes glowing brightly before the fire. When the fish sizzled over the open flame, she sat and turned the spit slowly, vocalizing occasionally as she did so with soft chittering noises. Eventually, she seemed to force herself to speak. "Does anyone want to hear a ghost story?"

Sea Devil "Who among you has ever hunted for food?" Aquaria asked the students as they reached the platform at the base of the rig, the sounds of the tribe's butchery song reaching them as clearly as the smell below. "Ah...some, good!" she croaked with satisfaction. "This will not be new!" She walked up to the railing and pointed down with her trident. "Behold!" She couldn't keep the satisfaction from her voice as she watched the hunters of the tribe, perhaps a score or more (it was hard to tell since sometimes they died) methodically tear pieces from the carcass of the dead whale with their teeth and spears, climbing up on the harness they'd used to drag it in. Soon the hunters would have their fill, and then let it sink below where the females and young would begin the real feast. "Before I was born," she croaked reverently, "hundreds of years ago, there would have been tribes like this across the waters here, and down out onto the abyssal plain below. Now there are few of us left." Boal croaked something at her - then tried speaking to the humanoids. "We strong. We kill. We eat!" Was there a tone of great pride in that voice? It was hard to tell - especially when something moved under her hat. Grunting, Boal reached up under the hat and took something in her hands that looked like a cross between a frog and fish and a baby, staring at them with a black, doll's eye expression in its round eyes. Boal was careful to keep to the shadows, holding the spawn in darkness and away from the light of the sun. "Deep Ones are - Deep Ones believe we are Hydra's children, born from the strength and hunger of the water." She stretched her hand out over the water below - then gave a whoop as the hunters finished their work and released the whale carcass, which immediately began the noisy and noisome process of sinking below. "Tribes like this want to hunt, and raise strong spawn, and - they know very little about the world but what their elders sing to them." Below, some of the Deep Ones who had fed on the whale were climbing up the sides of the rig's legs, heading straight for the platform where they all stood. "I have told them you are strong! That we are stronger together!" Aquaria added, the last words echoed oddly by Boal. "We will show them!"