Electra
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"Some of them are," Erin agreed. "But I think the better they are, the less competitive. I guess it has to do with knowing your own power. Mark and Mike, they're not really the type to be serious about competition, especially Mark. But they're both really powerful. Eddie's more the competitor type, but he's a lot of flash and show, and not as much substance. Chris is just goofy most of the time, but he can sometimes come through in a pinch. I think maybe some of what you see is the superhero act though, from all of us. You sort of have to develop this, I dunno, this aura of competence if you want people to take you seriously. If you're out doing hero work and the civilians see you're getting scared, they could panic. "Anyway," she continued, stacking the creamer cups into a little pyramid on the table, "you'll be able to hack it just fine. It's not that big a deal if you have to dog it at first, everybody has to learn a whole bunch of new skills when they first come here."
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I certainly don't mind her stepping in, but she can't interpose till next round, because she wasn't adjacent to Dead Head when Wander took her action. She could always attempt to scruff the two of them like cats next round, though. :D
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This zombie was different from the ones Erin had seen before, but the differences didn't really process for her right at the moment. She couldn't hear his words over the pounding of her heart in her own ears, or look closely enough to see that there was an intelligence behind the macabre facade. It was a zombie, and it had to be destroyed. With that the first and only thought in her mind, she ran after the thing with a burst of blinding speed, charging at it with hands outstretched to try and rip it to pieces so it couldn't get up anymore.
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So are we supposed to be doing this all in the main thread now? In any case, Wander's not going to leave it at that, no way no how. Zombies must not walk free! Another all-out power attack, seeing as how she's too interested in killing him to watch her own back. 1d20+14=27 Once again, a DC 32 toughness save. I will post the IC as soon as I know where we're supposed to be posting. =)
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LOL, that'll just make her even madder! You won initiative, so it's your turn. Have fun with her -5 to defense. ;-)
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Okay, all out power attack, no bat, trying to do lethal damage. 1d20+14=28 She's unarmed, so it's a DC 32 toughness check, and her defense is currently at +9.
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And with that, I think it may be time to move this into the actual fight thread for Wander and Dead Head?
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Erin actually cracked a smile at seeing a familiar face. "Hey Geckoman," she called back. "I didn't expect to see anyone else from school here. Are you going to-" She broke off very abruptly as she caught sight of something far too familiar, something she hadn't expected to see in this world at all. As the stench of old death filled her nostrils, she took in the tattered clothes, the gray and decaying skin, the shambling movements, and something inside her snapped right back into survival mode. There was a split second of warning as her pupils dilated and her breath started coming faster, then she leapt on him, fist swinging towards his head.
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Erin observed the building from outside for a few minutes, not sure whether or not she really wanted to go in. She had her costume on, but it was covered with dark-colored civilian clothes, just so the blue and gold wouldn't stand out so garishly. This seemed like kind of a cool opportunity, a chance to test her skills against some of the city's other heroes and maybe meet some that weren't teenagers as well. But the building was run-down and looked dangerous, and social situations weren't really her best thing these days. James had talked about coming with her, but he'd been called away on another dimensional mission, so she was on her own. Finally she steeled herself and walked in, keeping a very careful eye on everything going on around her. In moments, she'd scoped out every visible entry and exit point, as well as the locations of the people who'd already arrived, just to be on the safe side. After that, she was content to stand by a large overturned scoreboard, her boots crunching in the glass of broken lightbulbs, and wait to see what would happen next.
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Well, this bodes well... Initiative: 1d20+13=16 Do you mind if I still take the surprise round? Otherwise this fight won't make a huge amount of sense. :D
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"I've probably logged a thousand hours in there already," Erin said, a little ruefully. "Though it's not so much to cut loose as to learn control. I guess it's like learning to ride a unicycle after you've been riding a bike your whole life. The basic concept is the same, but you have to retrain all your reflexes. Once Archer gets a feel for you, he'll start tailoring simulations to hit you where you're weak, so you work on it over and over again." She set down her cup and leaned back. "That the part that sucks. The fun part is doing team exercises and practicing together, getting to show off what you're good at."
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Memorial Day weekend seemed like the perfect time for some auto maintenance, right up until everything started going wrong. Fresh from a training session and with their costumes still on, Erin and Trevor were just outside the school garage when Erin's Young Freedom Beacon began to chime. Erin blinked in confusion as the Siren's voice came over the speaker. "Mark's house?" she said aloud, shaking her head. "What could be going wrong there? Nothing ever goes wrong there." Still, she wasn't about to ignore the call. "I can get us there by teleporting through the Young Freedom base," she told Trevor. "Want a ride?" Barely waiting for his nod, she took his hand and activated her beacon, sending them zipping to the base and then on to the house, a simple matter of selecting an already-known destination.
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Erin shrugged. "It keeps me from hurting anybody too badly," she explained, putting it back in the holster. "It's got some kind of dampeners in it that spreads out impacts, so there's never too much force in any one spot. Even if I get really worked up in a fight, the bat keeps me from knocking anybody's head off by accident." She smiled ruefully. "They really discourage that here. Anyway, it gives me better reach, too, and I can use it for vaults and stuff. I've been working on that one from the action movies, where you plant your staff and swing around on it with both hands, kicking everybody who gets close. Haven't got that one quite yet, though. Anyway, I have to take the bat when I'm out patrolling or training outside the Doom Room, otherwise I'd get in real trouble."
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"I can do it," Stesha told him, stretching out an arm to touch the giant plant that was already starting to wilt. Despite the overwhelming confusion of emotions, she managed a smile for the onlookers, even Jack. "Thank you, everyone. I'll talk to you soon." Wrapping her fingers around one broad green leaf, she wished them both home in the blink of an eye.
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"That's another thing you could talk to someone at the school about, even Mr. Archer." Erin made a face. She rarely bothered to hide her disdain for the gym teacher, a subject Trevor had already heard something about. Scuttlebutt around the school said that Wander had done something really horrible in her first simulated training sessions, though descriptions of what that might be ranged from the macabre to the truly far-fetched. Apparently, Mr. Archer had decided that she needed substantial reconditioning of her reflexes before she could go out on the streets. Or that was the story, anyway. "I haven't broken my bat since I got it, and I use it pretty hard," Erin continued her thought. She took her collapsed bat out of its belt holster and showed it to him. It was black too, about the length of her hand, and entirely nondescript. It looked like it might be the center bar for a paper towel holder. "And it's a lot longer than one of those sticks. I bet they could come up with something if you wanted."
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Looking to Trevor for permission, Erin picked up one of the dark sticks and examined it, hefting it to test the balance. "I've done a little bit of stickfighting, just in training," she told him, "but I think I do better with one weapon at a time. Plus, they'd have to make me a set of power-dampening sticks, which would probably be a pain. These are neat, though." She twirled it neatly around her hand, then set it back down before the waitress noticed anything. "Do you carry them all the time?"
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Erin had no idea what Trevor was talking about for most of his recitation, her blank look probably conveying that well. She wasn't about to mention that she'd spent a lot of the past few years dividing her food and beverage options into "edible," "non-edible" and "how hungry am I?" rather than reading up on gourmet beverage preparation, so she just shrugged. "The cocoa from those things is kind of watery," she allowed. "I guess the coffee wouldn't be that great either." She picked up on a topic she thought she knew a little more about. "Escrima is stick-fighting, isn't it? Do you do that?"
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"You could ask Darian to help you," Erin suggested, "he's got a hand with inventing things. You'd just have to make sure he didn't turn it into a time machine or a giant laser while he was at it." She thought for a second. "But couldn't you just buy one? Like a coffee vending machine? I'm sure I've seen some like that, like down at the public library. They've got like gas station cappuccino and hot cocoa and four kinds of coffee in them." She knew there was a lot of money in Trevor's background, if he wanted a vending machine in his room, he could surely afford it.
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"Cool." Erin took another drink. "What kind of brewer are you making, anyway? Like a coffee machine with truck parts? Or are you trying to build a still or something? Eddie would probably worship at your feet, but I think Summers wouldn't like it much," she predicted with a grin. Trevor didn't say much, but the silences didn't feel awkward, so that was okay. They sort of made her feel like talking more, which was kind of unusual.
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Stesha described aloud everything that she saw to the others, then nodded at Doc's words. "I should be able to get most of them out, but where should I take them? If they're scared already, I don't want to leave them in the plants too long. It's a little, hmm, strange in there for people who aren't used to it. Should I send them straight to a hospital?"
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"Maybe you could take a look at my truck sometime, if you've got some time to spare," she suggested. "I've been reading some books about engines, maintenance and stuff, but it's all pretty basic. It'd be cool to see what someone who really knows about engines could do with it. It's a pretty basic pickup truck, but it's almost new." She paused, sipped her drink. "Maybe you could give me some pointers on how to keep it working right."
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Erin thought about that for a moment, drinking hot cocoa that had obviously been spoon-stirred from a powder. "Yeah," she finally agreed, looking into her cup, "but sometimes it doesn't seem very fair. Other people don't give their whole lives up to hero work, and they still get to tell themselves they're doing the right thing. But that's life, I guess," she continued, deliberately trying to shake off the moment. "And the unfairness of life is just depressing to talk about. I know you said you did all that stuff yourself on the motorcycle. Have you ever worked on a truck?"
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"What's your reason?" Erin asked baldly, picking up her own cup. "I mean, you can't say it doesn't kind of suck. You could have a normal life if you wanted, go to a regular high school, play sports, spend your weekends lazing around or going on dates or having a job or whatever. I couldn't do any of that if I wanted to, but why don't you?" Erin apparently had fewer compunctions than Trevor about heading into dangerous territory. Maybe it was something about talking in the middle of the night.
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Erin grimaced at that. "Yeah, that part sucks. But I guess sometimes someone really dangerous could get through, and that would be a problem." She paused and thought about that for a minute, then decided that she would intentionally overlook the irony there. She sat down on the couch instead. "I wish we'd done this before Mark and I had to go do that stupid magazine interview. They asked what our strangest adventures were. I could've told them about rescuing King Stinky the security guard from the Legion of Excitable Fraggles."
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"Yeah," Erin allowed, "sometimes. But you still know what you're going to do, at least sort of." She waited until the waitress brought their drinks and left before continuing. "You've got your grandfather's legacy, you've got the Night Cycle. You're not going to give up on being Midnight II, whatever else you decide, right? That's not really being vague, that's just having an outline to fill in with the details, like if you want to work solo or on a team, or where you operate."