Gizmo
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"I dunno, spice gives the sweetness something to work against," Ellie offered in consideration, looking pleased with the peck but leaving it as understated as Mara had intended it. "My brother always eyeballs the seasoning when he cooks instead of actually measuring, with about the results you'd expect, so maybe I'm just used to it." At Steve's question, she tilted her head slightly to one side curiously. "Y'know, I've never thought to ask; do you celebrate anything in particular?" The large man was from an entirely different world, after all, and not one as nearly identical to Earth-Prime as Erin's home reality had once been.
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Initiative. (1d20+3=23) Man, Kimber is on the ball for this mission. Making friends, not getting anyone shot, translating doomsday labels...
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It probably didn't register to the naturally laconic ex-Omegadrone, but Jill was being unusually quiet the entire time they were searching, making only a token effort to chime in with sardonic observations or more useful replies to his queries. As they got closer to the rendezvous point she finally admitted without prompting, "Not gonna lie, Steve, I'm kinda having an internal meltdown here." Her voice was level and tinged with forced wryness but her expression was tight and worried. "Fine, we're stranded and somebody's messing with us, whatever, I can deal with that. But if they tok you and me and Erin, the only thing I can think is that they're going after HAX or maybe just Mara and she's going to be on her own and I can't even warn her." The words came out in a rush and it was clear she was vocalizing her fears more for her own benefit than to inform the somber man walking beside her. "Dios, the last time I went missing she ended up building an orbital death ray and nnngh..." Trailing off, she began rubbing her eyes and grimacing.
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Wail held his opponent in a tight arm lock, shifting to avoid the beast man's frenzied attempts to snap at him with his remaining serrated teeth. With an unimpressed grunt, the veteran hero took a moment to line up his stance before letting loose with a wordless syllable of terrible power directly into the cultist's face. Though the attack lasted for a mere beat, the sonic force rippled the cartilage of its target in a visible wave of trauma that ended with one more unconscious shark on the floor. Turning back to the rest of the fight, LaMarr paused for a moment before flatly telling Glowstar, "...I have no idea who that is."
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Jill blinked once at Wander's decisive instructions as the other young woman smoothly took charge of the situation. She's seen Erin prove herself a force of nature in a fight but it suddenly made a lot of sense that she wasn't just Mara's top security officer, but the leader of the entire staff. "Yes ma'am," she replied with a salute that wasn't entirely sarcastic before turning to Harrier. "C'mon, Smiley, let's try to find you some pants or a kilt or something." Tossing a meaningful look toward Quickstep then back to Wander she added, "Watch your backs."
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When the identity of the local Tronikian's leader was confirmed, Kimber gave Koshiro a look that suggested she was very magnanimously avoiding mentioning to the others that she'd told them so, right before disappearing from view and flying through the physics-warping walls of the Wonderbus and into the occupied base to take a closer look around. She knew it wasn't entirely fair to mistrust a completely alternate version of Rogue, but the trip to Sharl's hometown had made an impression. Slipping through the hallways and locked doors of the base caught her up with the rest of team in short order, stealthily getting a better look at the crates and their worrisome labels. 'RAGNAROK' in particular caught her eye, jogging the memory of a lesson on pantheons of mystical power and spreading an invisible look of horror on her face. Soon, Wraith heard a disembodied voice whispering in her ear urgently. "Indira, those chemical weapons are labeled with the name of the big, everything-dies end-of-the-world from Norse mythology! The Nazi's back home were totally obsessed with that stuff," the phantom explained, pitching her voice low enough to avoid giving her presence away to anyone else. "It's totally a doomsday weapon codename!"
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Knowledge [Arcane Lore] check. (1d20+10=23) Kimber sees what you're doing there, with your apocalyptically named bio-weapons.
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The sight of the ruined vehicles and building brought out another stream of invective from Jill, but she seemed more angry than traumatized. "Nothing's in the right place or the way it should be," she agreed with Wander, the floating shields around the small group reflexively spreading out a little further and thickening. "You remember coming to the Brownstone with Fulcrum, right? It sure as hell wasn't in the North End, for one thing. Not to mention it was completely blown up along with the MAVERIC and rebuilt looking totally different. And the Pitchoo wasn't even-- argh, it's like watching a movie made by someone who didn't even bother to read the book." The medic's shoulders bunched together in agitation as she tried to get her bearings in the not-quite-right scenery.
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"Oh hey, I'll try that," a familiar voice called as Ellie excused herself from chatting with a few of the company's more sociable employees and walked over to join her girlfriend and the security staff. The young woman had actually found a long, heavy skirt in an earthy green to go with fitted brown vest over a deep red dress shirt, creating a look that was appropriately festive without being over the top and similarly dressy to Mara's outfit-- or rather, Mara's outfit before she'd been sidetracked by one project or another. "Did you seriously leave your own party to go work?" she chided with a sigh, accepting a mug from Steve and sipping first experimentally and then appreciatively.
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Wail Free Action: Maintain Grapple Standard Action: Sonic Wail right in Shark 3's face. That's DC 33 Toughness.
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Any coy response Trevor might have had for that was forgotten as he looked up at the halo of red-tinted brown set against the dark of the cave outside the saucer's translucent, domed top and lit by the warm, hazy light of the instruments lining the cockpit. "...beautiful," he managed softly instead, ruby irises tracing the lines of her face with the painstaking intensity of someone committing what they saw to unerring memory. Finally he learned upward in their weightless balancing act to kiss Erin again, more slowly and impassioned by the need to communicate where words so typically failed him.
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Kimber didn't stay outside with the bodies for long, gulping almost audibly and focusing very, very hard on not using the necromantic abilities she's learned from her mentors in the occult community. Instead, she floated back into the van with Koshiro, opting to hang back in case Rebecca Stone's understandable wariness of the local Tronkians was well founded. In a pinch, it wouldn't take her long to rejoin the others, after all, being able to fly right through the intervening walls. "I ink-thay she ight-may be Ouge-ray," she whispered worriedly to the origami artist, even if they weren't currently transmitting and there wasn't anyone else there to hear them. It made a certain uneasy sense, after all; in this reality, the digital terrorist's rabid anti-organic sentiment would actually be perfectly understandable. "Maybe... she's nice here, though? That could happen, right?"
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Jill hung back for a moment as Wander approached the teenage girl, the same admittedly shaky logic that suggested avoiding manufactured paranoia warning her against immediately trusting such an obviously sympathetic victim. Her better instincts won out fairly quickly, however, and she moved forward as Erin helped Dorothy to her feet. "Alright niña, let's have a look at you," she told the student with the mixed imperious authority and gentle reassurance of a practiced bedside manner. Carefully looking Quickstep over confirmed what had been clear at a distance; the girl was on the edge of the more serious effects of starvation and exposure but wasn't yet in immediate, life-threatening danger. She seemed to be exactly what she claimed to be. Jill just wasn't sure if that made her more or less likely to be a trap. Either way, she maintained the floating barriers around the growing group with a wary eye at the many surrounding vantage points.
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What does an Auto-28 in Medicine tell Jill about the new girl's condition?
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"Well now, it's not always about being saved, is it?" Wail noted, charging into the melee with surprising speed for someone so large, his fist plowing into one of the remaining shark men hard enough that he could feel at least two rows of teeth cracking against his knuckles. "Sometimes it's about having a super-special club with a sign outside telling other folks they're not allowed in." He carried through on his momentum with practiced ease, catching and twisting one of the cultist's arms around and pinning in behind his back, holding the half-man in place. "Somehow I figure we'll live with being excluded."
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"Aw, I like you too!" Ghost Girl beamed, as pleased to have made a new friend in the dark, rainy woods outside a fascist stronghold as she would have been anywhere else. "You should definitely leave the killbots to us, though, yeah," she agreed more soberly, grimacing reflexively at the prospect of facing the terrifying machines. "Dying is not a lot of fun, I would not recommend it if you can help it. On the upside, it can only happen the one time, so I'm good to go!" With all the gravitas she could muster, she saluted the battle-hardened soldier. "Don't worry, ma'am, I'll do Canada proud! Those Ratzis'll think twice about crossing the forty-ninth again!" With that, she flew back into the Wonderbus, to rejoin the rest of the team and plan their next move.
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"What? No, I meant-- never mind," Jill stopped herself, running a hand through her hair distractedly. Obviously this wasn't the time for pop culture references in the first place, nervous habit aside. "Let's just find Steve and get him some pants." Both of her hands lit up with faint blue light and a pair of concave barriers sprang into being on either side of herself and Wander, translucent force-fields of mystically charged bioelectricity. "Just in case Robyn Hood gets bowstring-happy," she explained as they reached the devastated Freedom Hall. As promised, it wasn't hard to spot Harrier standing in his boxers with his usual stoic acceptance of misfortune and inconvenience. "Glad we at least got our clothes before being dumped out here," she mused to the powerhouse beside her, glancing about the exposed area uncomfortably. "...I think, anyway."
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"Important to encourage a talented partner," Trevor noted, tilting his head accommodatingly into Erin's fingers and returning the kiss. The tip of his nose left a thin line of faint green paint across her pale cheek and the dark haired young man brought a thumb up to carefully wipe it away with a small smile. Concern for their precarious, tangled balance made his movements even slower and more deliberate than usual, his other hand gradually tracing its way up the small of her back, pulling the hem of her undershirt along with it. "More enjoyable than last time in zero-gee," he admitted, "for some reason."
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Midnight was not one given to emotional outbursts. Even against the truly vile, he approached combat with a veneer of distance, projecting nothing but cool, precise efficiency, as unstoppable as nightfall. If he were being completely honest with himself, however, in this case he found himself appreciably annoyed. Maybe it was because Jason had managed to temporarily fool him, wary suspicions aside. Maybe it was that the false hero had chosen to dress in the colours of the Hunter family legacy as part of his deception. Maybe it was as petty as loathing for someone who had placed ambition over his own children. Whatever the cause, the sounds that emerged from the cloud of stygian mist that enveloped one side of the battlefield went beyond mere disabling strikes. Jason's bronze soldiers crumpled before their unseen assailant in a flurry of percussive strikes and if the summoned Spartoi could feel pain, they certainly did.
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It occurs to me that Midnight can take 10 against the minions and they can't pass the DC 30 Toughness save, so he'll knock another two out via Takedown Attack.
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"This reeks of set-up. Bad guys don't shoot adhesive arrows, which means you, me, Steve and some kid stealing the Bowman's shtick and her pal are the only people in comlink distance," Jill explained her reasoning, ticking off points on her gloved fingers. "We wake up with no idea how we got here in a big empty city full of things to freak us out with Harrier dropped like a big ball of 'kill it with fire' in the middle. They even made sure we've got our game faces on." The dark haired medic indicated the costumes and masks they each wore. "We've got our gear, no power-dampeners. Can't put your stars on stage without their props, right? Trust me, mi hermano and our guys can't go five minutes without getting mind-controlled or turned evil or starting a slap-fight." Taking a deep breath, she forced her pulse to slow to a healthier speed. "Dios, an archer. This better not be some screwy take on that flick with Chris Hemsworth's little brother."
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The name Blue Jay meant nothing to Jill, but her breath caught in her throat when she heard Steve over her own comlink, receiving on the shared frequencies Vince had set up for the Interceptor's equipment. If both of HAX security's most prominent members were here, had Mara been stranded in the wasted city as well? The medic set the thought aside for the moment; there was enough to worry about already without letting her fears get away from her. "Wait, there's no such thing as one Omegadrone, except--" she began as she caught up to Wander with some creative use of her grappling line and the unsteady remains of desiccated buildings, a picture starting to form in her mind as she continued to listen. Smacking her face with one hand, she used the other to thumb the 'talk' button of her comlink. "It's a flipping team-up fight, you idiotas," Jill snapped impatiently before sighing audibly. Stress was obvious in a voice not overly given to patience in the first place. "This is Jill O'Cure of the Interceptors. Listen, bird girl, if you shot some goop at one Omegadrone all on his own, that's Harrier and he's one of the good guys. You and your friend in the tin can can stop running. Now, where are you actually holed up, so we can put our heads together and figure out what the hell is going on?" At that last part she sounded vaguely offended by the meager attempt at misdirection.
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Jack of all Blades (3) Interceptors: Eden (1) The Espadas School: Helping Hand-to-Hand (1) The Espadas School: You Hold This End (1) Midnight II (12) A Briefing with Friends (2) Midnight City (10) Wail (3) Street Sharks (1) Wood and Clay Will Wash Away... (2) Ghost Girl (10) Call, Raise or Fold (1) Enchanted Species (2) The Ghost and the Machine (5) The Last World War (2) NPC - Jill O'Cure (6) Blues Sisters (12/2 = 6) Hah, wow, that was a comically poor month. Rolling Midnight and Jill's posts up to Jack should at least push him past the 15 mark plus the Ref Point. After that, I guess pass the posts down to push Ghost Girl past 25 and give her the Ref Point as well.
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"You know Dan?" Kimber exclaimed excitedly, her form shifting back to her usual translucent self, albeit dressed in the local style. "I should have known he'd be okay here! He fought a sasquatch once, you know," she told Sharl, bouncing into the air and hanging there. "With his bare hands!" Clapping her hands once, she turned to Stone, her expression turning sober. "He's not a ghost. I'm a ghost. I can totally see the confusion, though, I thought the same thing when we met. See, Sharl, it's not just me. Oh! And he's not evil!" She indicated her teammate and gave the grim resistance fighter an encouraging thumbs up in turn. "If you saw somebody who looks like him, that was probably his, um, twin brother, sort of. ...wait, did you say 'her'?" The phantom blanched a slightly lighter shade of blue. "Er, black hair, kinda pasty, definitely a little coo-coo-ga-joo? 'Cause that would be really lousy news."
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"Don't shoot!" a masculine voice barked from next to Sharl, the space occupied a moment before by Ghost Girl now host to a severe looking man in his early seventies with thinning grey-blonde hair and a dark three-piece suit. His stance was determined, with his feet set and his hands holding either side of his jacket open to expose a simple black tie tucked into a lightly pinstriped vest, his jaw set is a stern expression as he glared daggers at the assembled gunmen. After a beat, he spoke again, with the voice of a teenage girl. "Sorry, Sharl, I was all set to do Mackenzie King and I kinda panicked," she apologized to the holographic teen before addressing the Canadians, still appearing as the late Prime Minister. "Um, please don't shoot? I'm Canadian too, actually! I mean, not your Canada, I guess, but-- oh, wait, maybe I'm not supposed to mention that..."
