Gizmo

The backdoor swung open as Echo's feet touched down - or rather 'up' - on the ceiling, the lock reduced to useless molten slag by the slicing blade. In the poor light the figure that strode inside was visible first as a silhouette, lithe and male, with a long coat flapping softly about his ankles and a high collar jutting up on either side of his face. The harsh light from the weapon he'd used to enter illuminated a costume in royal blue and black with touches of silver, providing just enough illumination to outline the tails of a bandana mask tied around his eyes. There was no mistaking the costume as belonging to a local hero who tended to make a splash any time the news cameras arrived in time to catch him in action: Jack of all Blades! ...except that Echo was pretty sure the swashbuckler's whole shtick was that his swords were made out of energy, not electricity wrapped around a weirdly elongated index finger that pulled itself back into more human proportions as the wig-wearing heroine watched silently from above. She was also pretty confident that his skin tone had never been quite so ruby red in any of the footage she'd seen.

Kimber's attention had started wandering almost as soon as the legalese had begun, try as she might ton concentrate on what was being said. She jumped a bit when the voice suddenly spoke next to her and had to remember to have her feet come back down to the floor afterward. "Oh! Um. They are, a bit, I guess, yeah," she admitted out of the corner of her mouth, trying not be too obvious as she glanced over in the direction of the morose voice. "Did you... not want them to? You could totally speak up and give them a piece of your mind, y'know! If anybody should be deciding what happens to you it oughta be you, eh?" She flashed a quick, beaming smile before schooling her features again and pretending to listen to Lucy and her wizened counterpart.

"That's... an image," Becky commented diplomatically, giving Tarva a sidelong look as she stooped to arrange an armful of kindling in the recently created fire pit. "I'd just as soon not go full-wendigo just to grow in my fur," she explained to Indira as she retrieved a lighter from her pack, glancing over her shoulder in Eve's direction. "I've got a blanket big enough to share in here, too. Just in case." The grin she gave her girlfriend was decidedly wolfish. The campfire was lit in short order and crackled away quietly while the True North member took a seat on the end of the unoccupied log. Avro took a seat at Indira's feet - or at least what passed for feet in the more or less humanoid form she was holding - and stared entranced at the flames, not entirely sure what to make of them.

Midnight II Golden Age Adventurer’s Song Even with the truck parked inside the warehouse and the loading bay door shut behind them the musclebound man with the bleach blond crewcut couldn’t shake the feeling of someone watching him. Paulie and the boys had done exactly as they’d been instructed and retrieved the newest shipment from their ‘out of town’ supplier and even if the creepy little guy made his skin crawl the whole thing had gone off without a hitch. As they’d left the meeting place, however, the hairs on the back of his neck had started to stand up and his nerves hadn’t calmed down since. The rest of the boys quickly unloaded the truck and added the new crates to the stacks already filling a good portion of the warehouse when a draft drew Paulie’s attention upward. The skylight on the far end of the cavernous room was just slightly ajar, just enough for someone to have slipped through. The arms dealer opened his mouth to raise the alarm and every light in the warehouse abruptly winked out, leaving them in completely darkness. A beat later a single fluorescent blinked back on, creating a spotlight in the centre of the room. Standing there was a figure clad in light devouring black from head to toe, topped with a black fedora and a blank void where his face should have been, broken only by a pair of red eyes that glowed like coal in a fire. Inky smoke roiled about his feet and in the stunned silence of the warehouse the only sound was the faint creaking of his gloves as he clenched his hands into fists. Despite the darkness surrounding him he looked directly into the blond man’s eyes. “G-get him!” Paulie finally managed to sputter and the three of his men closest to the intruder rushed forward. Unbelievably, in the second before they reached the edge of the spotlight the mysterious masked man began to sing in a deep, resonant baritone: I am the very model of a Golden Age Adventurer; I’ve martial strikes to vertebra, diaphragm and jugular~ He matched deed to lyric as his hands shot out to deliver blows faster than the eye could follow, sending the first of his attackers to the cold floor with a nerve strike to the spine before sidestepping an attempted tackle and countering with a rising knee to the stomach. The third gunrunner tok a punch to the throat with enough force to send him falling backward with a retching noise. The rest of the boys were perhaps braver than they were smart and hurried to follow after their fallen comrades. The masked man almost toyed with them, taking them down one by one as he continued to sing, the echoes of the warehouse giving the jaunty song a terrible reverberation. I know kingpins of felons and I quote records of pilferers; From murder one to jaywalking: judge, jury, executioner~ Showing the reason he was in charge, Paulie didn’t waste time watching to see if his men could take down the intruder with sheer numbers; the conclusion was obviously foregone. Instead he sprinted over to the new shipment, scooping up a crowbar as he went. The wooden lid gave way easily enough to reveal a stack of glimmering green metal with just enough in common with a mundane machine gun to be recognizable as a firearm. Grabbing up the sleek weapon and pausing only to check that it had a full charge, he whirled around to the man in the spot light and with a roar began unloading a flurry of red hot darts of plasma. The masked figure rolled under the first volley and began leaping from one stack of crates to another, the lights in the warehouse flicking off and on to follow him as he continued to evade the assault. I’m very well acquainted, too, with matters most peculiar; I understand dimensions parallel, perpendicular; Across alternate timelines, ethics or gender reverse~… He stopped suddenly, crouching atop the newest stack of crates and putting a hand to his chin as though considering his next rhyme. Gritting his teeth, Paulie lined up a final shot only for the other man’s hand to grab something from a sheathe near his boot and fling it forward. The black escrima stick lodged perfectly in the rifle’s gaping muzzle just in time to cause a blowback that destroyed the weapon and sent Paulie scrambling backward with burned fingers. With many dire warnings about the ending of the multiverse~ The groaning thugs scattered about the floor spoke up in unison, forming a chorus that rang out as the black clad man advanced slowly on their ringleader. With many dire warnings about the ending of the multiverse! With many dire warnings about the ending of the multiverse! With many dire warnings about the ending of the multiverse~! With the last syllable they collapsed as one back to the warehouse floor, unconscious. Paulie didn’t know what was going on and he was well past the point of caring. With a desperate shove he toppled over the crates between him and his pursuer, giving him just enough time to sprint to the truck and dive into the driver’s seat. Slamming his foot down on the the gas he reversed, crashing through the flimsy metal of the loading bay door and racing out onto the street with a screech of protesting rubber. Grimacing as his injured fingers grasped the steering wheel, Paulie checked the rearview mirror. Horrifyingly, there was the masked man, riding atop a glossy black motorcycle with deep crimson wings painted on either side, the street lights above him turning off and on in sequence to continue spotlighting him as he quickly gained on the much slower truck. Against all reason, his singing continued, as clear to the arms dealer as if he had been sitting right next to him. I’ve very good at mechanics and automotive retrofits, Furion intelligences rework them for my benefit~ The motorcycle pulled up just ahead of the truck with ease and something glinting faintly in the street lamp’s light dropped from a compartment on its rear. Paulie didn’t have time to even think of reacting before his front tires tore themselves to shred on the caltrops and the truck was sent swerving uncontrollably to collide with a fire hydrant. With no seatbelt on the driver was sent flying painfully forward into an airbag, his vision swimming as he struggled to remain conscious. The last thing he saw before darkness overtook him was the masked man hauling him out of the wreck and lying him down on the pavement, looming over him with those terrible red eyes. Even as coherent thought deserted him, that baritone voice filled his ears. In short, to lament of dictator, autocrat and emperor; I am the very model of a Golden Age adventurer. (Music Source: Major-General's Song from Gilbert and Sullivan's The Pirates of Penzance, 1879)

Kimber made a soft squeaking sound that was quickly muffled as Tarva closed the distance between them. Where the awkward, hurried mashing of mouths on Steelgrave's station had caught her off guard this completely derailed any coherent thought, the multiverse collapsing in around them. When the shadow witch stepped away the ghost leaned after her, wide eyed and lips parted, completely unable to formulate any sort of response until the taller woman had already headed back into camp. Floating silently in the air she began listing to one side until with a loud crack of protesting wood splintering the forest and clearing in a wide circle around her was abruptly covered in the thick frost of a preternaturally intense cold snap. "Hhhwoahmyjams," she murmured, fingertips to her lips as her stilled thoughts erupted in a million incomprehensible directions at once. What did--? Did she--? But then--! How could--? If they--! Couldn't be--! Why now--? After a few beats Kimber simply lifted her shovels back into the air on either side of her and bobbed off into the woods, doing her best to stifle a hysterical giggle and trying to just think about hockey.

Ghost Girl Blueprints Another levitating thumbtack drove itself into the massive bulletin board on Kimber’s bedroom wall in the Dutemps building, affixing one end of a piece of pastel coloured yarn to a diagram of an arcane circle. The other end was attached to a set of chants copied out of a borrowed tome with ideas for modification jotted in the margins using gel pen. More bits of yarn created a web of interconnected notes, sketches and computer printouts hanging above stacks of books that had probably already been musty when she was alive. The phantom herself however in front of the sprawling display with a thumb stuck between her teeth, eyes narrowed as she double-checked her own work intently. With the ‘Song Wave’ washing across the city for the past few days she’d been planning to head out and about invisibly, taking in as many of the impromptu performances as she could find, but inspiration had struck and helped her get past a bit of eldritch algebra that had had her stymied for some time. Now she’d found a groove and wanted to get as much work done on her project as possible. Lying on the foot of her bed, Avro seemed less convinced that the trade-off was worth it. Kimber didn’t actually use the furniture but the room, so much larger than the one she’d shared with Indira at Claremont, seemed conspicuously empty without a bed. The manticore kitten let out a brassy yawn, scorpion tail flicking back and forth in the air before he hopped to the floor and padded over to stand at her feet expectantly. When she didn’t immediately turn her attention to him he rapped his paw loudly against the hardwood floor. “Mrrrrow?” Looking down and blinking, the poltergeist smiled as light notes of piano and chimes rose subtly in the background. “Avro?” Smoothly flipping almost upside down in the air she scooped the little beast up in her arms and lifted him up to see her work. Do you wanna build a soul scythe? It does more than just slay! I never touch things anymore Float through the door It’s like I’ve gone away~… Kimber’s beaming smile faltered a bit at that as she hugged her pet a little closer to her chest and studied the strands of translucent blue hair that wafted across her field of vision, held aloft by a wind that wasn’t there. Her gaze unfocused a bit as she bit the corner of her mouth. I used to have a body And now I don’t. And though it’s rad how I fly~! Shifting Avro to the crook of one arm, she reaffixed her smile and gestured dramatically to the bulletin board in a bit of forced cheer. Do you wanna build a soul scythe? …it kinda has to be a soul scythe. The young manticore wasn’t convinced by the entertainment value being proposed nor his mistress’ show of positivity and huffed accordingly, giving Kimber a lidded look. The spectre just sighed dramatically. Okay, boy~… Setting him down she telekinetically opened the lid to the big antique chest at the foot of the bed and began lifting her collection of treasures out of it. The pieces danced in the air around her, bobbing up and down to the swelling music as she danced midair, picking up energy as she went. Do you wanna build a soul scythe? I’ve got a sword shard for the blade. I’ve got a silver branch and arm bone, too, An idol to renew, The spellwork’s all handmade~! Sending the artifacts back into the chest in a flying parade, she slipped through the wall and out into the hallway, belated remembering to open the door for Avro with a wave of her hand. The kitten scampered out after her, claws clicking against the slick floors as he hurried to catch up. It’s getting kind of lonely, Haunting all these rooms, Just watching them pass me by~ The music following them slowed gently, orchestral strings rising to fore as they moved slowly throughout the reconstructed castle. The structure was big enough that even with the sizeable staff employed in its upkeep it wasn’t hard to go for a while without running into anyone. Lost in thought, Kimber let her smile fade into a small frown, a thin layer of frost trailing behind her. Yowling plaintively, Avro hopped in the air high enough to sweat at her ethereal ankles. Stopping in her tracks, Kimber lowered herself into a crouch just above the hardwood and scratched behind his ears. Yes, I know they love me, Indira’s asking where I’ve been. Eve says, "sois courageuse” and I’m trying to, But I’m see-through and blue, Not felt or seen~ The music quieted, just a simple piano carrying the melody as Kimber closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Letting it out again she set her jaw resolutely and reopened her eyes, straightening back up to her full height. The music crescendoed back to its full volume as she declared, I can’t just live on sorrow, So just wait and see. Here’s what I’m gonna do~… Shooting spiraling through the air like a flurry caught in a storm’s wind she raced back to her room, a surprised Avro bleating his objection before sprinting after her. Not having to worry about going around inconvenient objects Kimber beat him there and floated again in front of her notes, beaming from ear to ear once again. It was going to work. It had to work. Do you wanna build a soul scythe? (Music Source: Do You Want To Build A Snowman by Kristen Bell, Agatha Lee Monn & Katie Lopez from the Frozen soundtrack, 2013)

"Oh, they'll be okay!" Kimber assured Tarva with an unconcerned wave, glancing back toward the middle of the campground to see one tent fully set up and the second nearly ready to go. "Indira's annoyed but mostly just because she was worried you might do something that would hurt me." Her tone made it clear that the phantom didn't think that was a remote possibility even if she could understand from whence the fear had sprung. The alien warrior-monk was always a little protective of her less martial friend and for a people who didn't actually have bones themselves the Kinigosi seemed to give them a lot of significance. "You really ought to talk to her later, though. She knows what it's like to be the only person who worships the way you do on the whole planet. Oh, and Eve's just outrageously rich. Like, truly, truly, truly." She stretched her arms wide in an effort to convey the sum of the Frenchwoman's wealth. "She tried to explain just how rich to me once and just ended up saying that even with as much as she gives away she pretty much couldn't ever run out even if she wanted to try." Floating closer to the witch as if she were sliding along a bannister Kimber added, "Plus she was planning to come visit Becky some time in the next couple of weeks anyway! She flies up here pretty regularly 'cause otherwise they don't get a chance to, um, share a tent much. ...you had that sort of thing back there, right?" It wasn't the most delicately phrased question and she was pretty sure she already knew the answer from Tarva's reaction to meeting the wendigo but she knew it would keep bothering her if she didn't outright ask.

"I figured you probably would." Kimber rubbed the back of her sleeve over her eyes but she had managed a small smile by the time she lowered her arm. "I kinda did go away for a while," she admitted, looking away for a moment before setting her jaw as resolutely as her heart-shaped face allowed and turning back to meet Tarva's eyes. "I spent a bunch of years haunting a cabin not that far from here, pretty much out of my mind. Eventually Dan showed up and tried to do an exorcism but I guess you can take the crazy out of the ghost but you can't take the ghost out of the crazy, eh?" She gestured at herself from her shoulders to her feet with a flick of her wrists by way of illustration before remembering who she was talking to and shoving her hands in her pockets self-consciously. "So... so I guess maybe I didn't want to leave in the end." She looked like there was something she wanted to ask but after a moment's hesitation the poltergeist blurted out, "Your shadows are really nice! I-I mean they're warm. I would have thought they'd be cold and usually I like cold better, really, but... um..." She took her hands out of her pockets and put them on either side of her face in the vain hope of somehow stemming the tide of words tumbling out of her mouth. "Warm can be good too! Yeah..."

Harrier & Jack of all Blades Friend Indeed Steve and Erik hadn’t seen much of each other after Eden’s birth - after all, they both had their jobs and their own homes, and now Erik was busy being a new father. Steve had brought several baby gifts, including what was obviously a homemade chew toy, but hadn’t lingered much in a household with a new baby. Like so many things in life, it made him...unsettled. But for once their schedules were in sync - Min was with the baby and Steve didn’t have a date night with Gina, there was no serious crime in the city tonight and HAX was conducting no late night experiments. Of course, the city wasn’t entirely free from mystery - the Song Wave had already hit both the dojo and HAX in the last few days, but with the Freedom League and its magical specialists on the case, Steve was willing to let others handle this one. As he pushed open the cracked door of the bar named BAR, he let himself wonder how much he could really help. He was familiar with the idea of contagious waves of emotional distortion - but none as...easy as this. He’d arrived early, since he wasn’t the one who needed to put a baby to bed, so instead he walked up to the bar and declared firmly, “Two Bud Lights.” It was, after all, an all-American beer. When he had two, he took a seat in a corner and placed his back against the wall, waiting for Erik to arrive. On the television, the sportscaster was just winding down from a song about the “wonderful wonderful Comets!” After a couple of weeks of this, only a few people were staring. He wasn’t waiting long before the door swung open and Erik pirouetted into the dimly lit establishment, abruptly straightening as the door closed behind him and cut off a down tempo aria on the subject of properly sorting recycling. The lean man tugged on his jacket and coughed self-consciously as he spotted Steve and sauntered over, his ever-present day’s worth of stubble in contrast to his friend’s hairless face. “Roped into backup dancing,” he muttered by way of explanation, dropping his plain brown jacket on the back of his chair and sitting down with the effortless poise that came from his incessant training. If most of the city’s residents had gone along with the Song Wave with a minimum of fuss and even some amusement, it was clear that it had left Erik with his hackles up. Looking at the label of the open bottle in front of him his expression fell slightly. “Aw, Steve.” “Is it bad?” Steve inquired seriously, looking at the bottle with concern. “You had said the lime was an insult to your heritage, so I had hoped the plain beer would be less offensive.” The truth was it all tasted largely the same to the former Omegadrone, who largely expressed favorite foods and drinks as a way of establishing social norms. He added, “I know you were not actually insulted by the lime beer, but I wanted you to know I listened to what you said.” He smiled, a faintly awkward look that rarely seemed to quite fit the face, if not the soul, beneath. His friend’s unease was easy enough to read - but it wasn’t something Steve was well-equipped to soothe. There has been no cannibalism! He slid his hands together on the table in front of him and asked, “How is your family?” Erik’s frown fell open into a lopsided grin at Steve’s earnestness. It was tough to let minor annoyances slip too far out of perspective around the big, bald man, even if his taste buds seemed to be as absent as his eyebrows. Steve was, plain and simply, a good friend. For someone whose relationships were characterized by good-natured teasing and competition it could still take him by surprise. “Good, good,” he assured the somber security guard, taking a swig from his bottle. The sooner he finished it the sooner he could buy something else for the next round, after all. “Eden’s getting a kick out of all of this and we spend a lot of time singing to Mia anyway.” If airing millennia worth of emotion in song had been a little more harrowing than he was making it sound, well, that was best kept private. “You and Slugger holding down the fort for Mara alright?” “Things are well.” Steve drank his beer as if he was trying to bolt it down, tipping his head back in a handful of long swallows. “Once it became clear the current situation is not the product of super-science, the phone calls and unauthorized visitors stopped and Mara and her colleagues were able to go back to work. Except for what Erin called a 'Happy Workers' song, which…” Steve fell silent. “Hmm. I am sure Mara will tell that story. To your sister, if nothing else.” He studied his friend over the rim of the bottle, thinking about how it was he and the sharp-tongued swordsman had become close. “I never thanked you,” he finally said, setting down the bottle with a faint clink. “For inviting me to be there when your child was born. That carried weight.” With a glance at Steve’s empty bottle, Erik took a long pull from his own beer. “Well, yeah, man, of course. I mean, I know I don’t usually say this stuff out loud--” Piano music began to swell all around their table leaving him just time to run a hand through his short, dusty brown hair and sigh, “Walked into that one…” You’ve got a friend in me. You’ve got a friend in me~ Erik was a passably good singer on a normal day, his smooth, confident inflection lending itself well to melody. With the distractingly sulphur scented magics of the Song Wave behind him it became practically impossible to go out of tune and his words reverberated clear and sweet. When your armour plates are shed, And there’s piles of trials stuck in your bald head, You just remember what smiling Jack said: Steve, you’ve got a friend in me, Yeah, you’ve got a friend in me~ Steve patted his friend on the hand reassuringly, then to his surprise broke into song himself - he was only a little familiar with the concept of the duet. You've got a friend in me You've got a friend in me~ His hairless brow wrinkled slightly - how had they learned to sing together? Oh well - it was just one of the many happy mysteries of Earth-Prime that he was content to live through rather than investigate. There’s one thing I’d never tell you, guy, When I see your life, And all the things inside, I wish I had more in mine... You’ve got a friend in me You’ve got a friend in me! Steve blinked - well, that had been a revelation he had not intended to make that evening. But from what he’d heard around HAX, the advantage of the Song Wave was that what was said was said - and the singer bore little responsibility for it. Or so he hoped, anyway. Erik didn’t look surprised by Steve’s lyrical admission, per se, but the was a look of mournful commiseration on his face. Past his loud, boisterous persona the fencer was a deeply empathic person and he was chagrined to realize he hadn’t made it more clear to his literal minded friend exactly where they stood. The remedy for that seemed obvious. Some other teams might be a little bit smarter than we are, Charming and well liked too. …maybe. He continued to sing with a certain nonchalance, gesturing vaguely to the bar around them in a way that was meant to encapsulate the entire community and by extension the Interceptors. Turning back to look Steve in the eye, his mouth quirked up in a grin. But our table’s got a place for you; If you want to~ Erik extended his hand across the table, offering it to Steve with a full blown grin and a raised eyebrow. It’s me and you, guy. Steve reached out and took Erik’s hand - no, squeezed it almost painfully tight, as tight as the muscles at the corners of his eyes. People in the bar were watching, and one was taking pictures, but by now the Song Wave was familiar enough that most people were letting it go. After all, it might be them tomorrow. Words failed him at this moment - but the song didn’t. We all will likely die In fire however we try But even though we may not survive You've got a friend in me You've got a friend in me You've got a friend in me. He actually leaned across the table and clapped Erik on the shoulder, sitting back down with a greatly moved look on his face. As grim as the words might have sounded to Earth-Prime ears, they were among the most sincere praise he could offer. Behind him, the music was beginning to fade, dialing down into silence as if someone were turning some invisible control. Erik ran a finger under his nose as conversation resumed its natural course, grumbling something about mystical scents that didn’t manage to entirely remove the grin from his face. “I should have outright offered sooner but I wasn’t really sure how you’d feel about joining up with a group,” he admitted, finishing off the last of his beer without complaint. “Glad to have you on board officially, hermano.” (Music Source: You've Got A Friend In Me by Randy Newman, from the Toy Story soundtrack, 1996)

"Please don't say that..." Kimber plead softly under her breath with a deeply distressed look, not meaning to vocalize the thought as all as she shot Indira a look that plead for patience. Indira and Tarva were both priestesses in their own fashions, she supposed, and she'd have to convince her friend to sit down with the Nihilor refugee at some point to hash out some ground rules, as little fun as she expected that conversation would be. For now she merely floated a few meters toward the Kinigosi and asked, "Just help Becky with the tents for now, okay? I'll fix it. I'll just... I'll fix it." The phantom turned about in the air with her hands raised and Tarva felt a gentle telekinetic prodding on her shoulder toward the edge of the clearing. Once they were out of immediate earshot - Kimber tried not to think too much about telepathy or alien huntresses or whatever enhanced senses went along with being possessed by a murder spirit - she took a deep breath. "Okay. Okay, so, seriously though, I didn't ask you to come to make you do anything. I-I know that's weird for you after... everything, but all of this is partly for you, see?" Her eyes flicked up to meet Tarva's as she tried to tuck her ethereal bangs behind her ears before resuming wringing her hands. "I was just going to have Dan send the arm bone to me 'cause... I kinda didn't want to have to deal with all this. But in the park with that bald guy I, um, I ended up finding out a lot more about where you came from then I think you probably wanted to tell anybody here, at least not yet, and I know you feel safer when you can keep secrets so... that didn't seem fair." She tucked her knees up under her body, bobbing up and down well off of the ground and looked out into the darkened woods. "I thought that maybe if you got to see where I came from we'd sort of be even and you could feel safe again. It's pretty dumb 'cause it's not like my thing is even that bad but it's all I've got to show and I think I just ended up stressing everybody out, so stupid, but I was trying to help. Sorry I messed it up again." Despite her best efforts her shoulders were starting to shake and she'd begun reflexively fading into the shadows around her.

22 - Roulette - Staggered, 1HP 21 - Corona - Uninjured, 0HP > 19 - Eclipse - Uninjured, 1HP 17 - Wander - Uninjured, 2HP 02 - Giant Mole-Slug - Injured x4, Staggered

Hit me with a Stealth check and a Notice check!

Not so much, no!

Closing his eyes, Trevor breathed slowly and steadily though his nose, gripping Erin's hand until the tightness in his chest loosened somewhat. He knew a dozen better, more effective ways to deal with stress and center himself but just then all any of those could accomplish was to remind him of the man who'd taught them to him. Eventually he parted his lips just enough to let out a long breath before rising to his feet and pulling Erin up along with him. "I do. That's why... I know I can do this." He didn't sound quite so sure as he usually did, but for then it was enough. Reaching over with his free hand he tapped the side of the display's pedestal and closed the glass case back over the Night Gun with a quiet hiss of pressurized air.

Just bruised then! Jill's occupied so Wildcat is up again!

Whatever Wildcat's knuckles connected with under the labcoat obviously wasn't yielding flesh but didn't feel quite hard enough to be metal or the tactical armor the armed thugs were sporting. It was enough to keep the raving scientist from falling immediately to the vigilante's attack but it didn't stop him from stumbling backward awkwardly, nearly losing his balance. Wildcat didn't have long to capitalize on the momentum, however, before two of the hired muscle came to their employer's aid, sticking to fisticuffs at short range. One, a burly man with a neatly trimmed chin strap beard caught the feline fighter with a lowered shoulder while the stockier woman beside him contributed a solid punch to the chin. Meanwhile the remaining thugs gave up on trying to burst Jill's force field and instead opened fire on the metamagi medic herself, forcing her to split her attention between evasive acrobatics and keeping the toxin out of the water supply.

Paramilitary Thugs Combined Unarmed Attack vs Wildcat: 2#1d20+6 21 18 That's a DC 21 Toughness Save for Wildcat! Combined Attack vs Jill O'Cure: 2#1d20+6 11 17

Each of the desks in the main room of the offices had a desktop computer sitting atop it but Echo found that on the whole the operation seemed to be rather low tech. Sticky notes with innocuous memos and reminders seemed to be more favoured than a simple text or email and tasks for the day were scrawled on a large dry erase board on one wall. The bright coloured paper and markers certainly lent a certain folksy charm of implied bustling activity but the journalism student had to wonder if there was another reason they were reluctant to commit anything to electronic record. Even the day planner where Bench's assistant kept track of his appointments was an actual leather bound book filled with neatly handwritten times and more than the occasional hasty scribble where something had been crossed out and rescheduled. There was an awful lot of rescheduling, Echo realized as she flipped through, which in and of itself wasn't too surprising. What was strange were the blocks of unused time that so much of that rescheduling seemed to be working to preserve. Every Monday night Bench was out the door of the office by no later than 6:00 PM and his schedule was similarly clear until at least noon on each following Tuesday. From the rest of the itinerary it didn't look like he took much time for himself, making the vacancies all the more strange. As she let time resume its natural flow around her the ticking of the clock was joined by the unmistakeable rattle of a doorknob at the back of the office, on the opposite side of the building from where she'd 'ported in herself. Whoever was there found that entrance just as securely locked but a moment later something white-hot and crackling with an electric hum thrust through the edge of the door frame, slowly slicing though the deadbolt like a warm knife through butter.

"Me!" Set agreed, looking insufferably smug. "Tis the thing about being a god: tis usually me." His smile remained fixed but something in his eyes darkened like looming storm clouds rolling in over a desolate expanse. "And one monster to another, child, I expect we both know that between death and letting you have your way with him, death be not the worse option. Still, my plan would be to foil your plan, dismantle your operation and save the square-jawed damsel. Tis a burden being so good, truly." Wandering over to a nearby stool, the godling hopped onto it and crossed his legs. "Mayhaps we can even find time to set you up with a Tinder account, eh? I can show you the best self portrait angles to help minimize all of..." He made a finger wiggling gesture that took in all of Marvelous from head to toe. "...that."

"It's okay, it's okay!" Kimber assured Indira hurriedly, raising her hands in front of her her as she slid a step's span away from Tarva's touch. "I appreciate the, um, sentiment? But I didn't ask you to come along for that, Tarva. Uh. Any of that." Cheeks colouring a darker blue that blended in with the dark of the night, she decided that the less emphasis placed on the sorceress' peculiar pronunciation the better. She hesitated, looking around the group one by one before admitting, "And, well, I know you're actually all probably better than me at digging, with telekinesis or lots of arms or... It's just... It's been almost twenty years. I don't really want any of you to see that. See me. Like that." She ducked her head between her shoulders, expecting protests but not really wanting to hear them. It was a point she'd been hoping to avoid bringing up directly but there it was.

Singing actually did seem to help pass the time as the group hiked further into the woods, although once they left the trail behind in earnest and ventured into the deep, dark woods those of them with solid limbs needed to spend more of their concentration on where they were stepping than carrying a tune. Becky had included powerful, rugged flashlights and lanterns in their packs and even if most of them didn't really need the light to navigate in the dark if helped to keep some of the oppressive feeling of branches closing in on all sides at bay. Knowing what they did about their destination it was hard not to think about how easy it would be to become lost. Kimber seemed determined not to let that train of thought discourage her but she rather pointedly didn't volunteer to let go of Tarva's hand, either. Fortunately the phantom's estimate proved to be reasonably accurate and they eventually came to a fair sized clearing in the woods, the ground too rocky there even for the persistent foliage. "Woo! Right where Dan said it would be!" Kimber cheered, turning to the others with an encouraged smile. "So, there's enough room for the tents and probably a, um, campfire. If everybody wants." She obviously wasn't thrilled by that particular idea but just because she enjoyed the chill in the air herself didn't mean she was oblivious to her friends' comfort. Doing her best to make stepping away from the shadow priestess into a non-event, she floated her pack around in front of her and retrieved a pair of collapsible shovels from within, the implements hovering to her side as she set the bag down. "If you all want to get set up here, I'll just, y'know, get what I came for and be back in a jiff!"

That does actually miss, even on the reroll. Ouch! 22 - Roulette - Staggered, 1HP > 21 - Corona - Uninjured, 0HP 19 - Eclipse - Uninjured, 1HP 17 - Wander - Uninjured, 2HP 02 - Giant Mole-Slug - Injured x4, Staggered Rav, blow that tower up!

Startled, a wide-eyed Avro wheeled backward and ended up crashing into Eve's ankles, wrapping his tail around the petite telepath's leg nervously before recognizing the scent of the metal monster. After a few inquisitive sniffs the manticore bounded forward with a trumpet-like bleat of challenge, quills sticking outward as he bounced around the underbrush, swatting at the various legs of Indira's spider form. That got a cheerful laugh from Becky, who stepped in as close to Eve as she could without making their continued hike difficult. Over their psychic bond Eve could feel the taller woman relaxing a bit, a fairly rare thing. Looking into Tarva's eyes Kimber felt a lurch in her chest as a heart that wasn't there did its best to race anyway. Her own eyes were limpid pools of ice water, bright and clear and hiding nothing. Her mouth worked open and closed a few times as her feet floated through roots and branches that would have assuredly tripped her had she been corporeal until she let out a sound that was aiming to be a laugh but came out closer to a whimper. "Mmh-mmhmm...!" Clearing her throat and licking her lips, the poltergeist managed to turn back to the trail in front of them and affect taking a deep breath. "Je te plumerai la tête; Je te plumerai la tête. Et la tête! Et la tête!" Like her eyes, Kimber's voice was clear and sweet, lending itself well to the jaunty melody even if she was a little more breathless than she might have usually been.

Gina made a flat snorting sound as she wheeled herself backward in a tight curve to better face Stesha and the stairway at the same time. "Hah, that would serve the-- hrmh." She stopped mid-sentence with an eye toward the children, particularly Yolanda who was alternating between dutifully keeping watch over the younger girls and studiously soaking up every word around her. The older woman's expression softened noticeably as she studied the florakinetic's face, pressing her lips into a line. "I'm sorry, dear, I can be a bit too direct with family sometimes. Still, priorities. I decided a very long time ago that that man was not worth my aggravation. So long as Steve and Mara keep John out of the way, tch." Gina made a dismissive wave with one hand, exposing the corded muscle of her forearm. "I may ask for your help getting up to the second floor in a bit though, if you would." Jean spent several silent moments regarding the back of Steve's head with his mouth very slightly agape, trying to parse the unexpected outpouring from the previously terse man. Mara had been watching carefully, however, and the swordsman's smile had already slipped from his face before the former Omegadrone had started to speak. Whatever witty remark of approval he'd had prepared for her purported lack of pity had died on his lips the second she'd mentioned his ex-wife's wheelchair. Clearing his throat, he eventually managed, "You have a talent for prioritization, mon ami. I promise you both, I intend to do nothing to disrupt the day. For what my tarnished word may be worth, eh?" The small attempt at self-deprecation didn't quite restore his previous poise, no matter now hard he was obviously trying to pretend to the contrary.

Raving Scientist Toughness Save vs DC 24: 1d20+10 15 That's a Bruise and a Daze!