Gizmo
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Puffing her cheeks out indignantly, Emma folded her arms. "Well, maybe I just want her for myself," she suggested with exaggerated haughtiness. "You don't know." After a beat, however, she placed her hands on the table loudly and leaned forward. "Okay, seriously though, Charlie Collins. And I know you're probably all, 'ooh, college girls' and all now, but seriously, she inherited her dad's heat powers. Right? Huh? Ooh, Phalanx Cakes with strawberry syrup!"
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"It's not ego when it's justified," The Blank responded with a dismissive wave, not even bothering to look in the Prince in Yellow's direction. "Normally I'd be more than happy to match skill against borrowed power, you glorified lackey, but even what's left of your pathetic mind should be able to realize that this is neither the time nor place. Now lets see if we can't find a helpful soul willing to give us some directions." Idly opening compartments on the matte black belt he was borrowing from his counterpart until he found a pocketknife, he airily added, "And it's The Blank."
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"Cassie!" a chipper voice called from the doorway, as Emma slid into the cafe, waving her hand in the air over a broad grin. The younger girl wore a fitted white hoodie offsetting the glossy black hair bouncing about her shoulders as he skipped forward and a pair of bright orange cargo pants so baggy it took a rather intricate series of fashionable belts to keep them on her wiry frame. Skidding into her seat with enough force to nearly tip it over, she rand her hands over the curves of the table's wing gleefully. "Eee, how great is this place, right? So ripping edge!" Flipping through her own menu, Emma's eyes lit up. "Oh hey, that's what Mom calls Dad when she's twipped at him! Ooh, you're never going to guess who in my history class just came out," she abruptly switched tracks, clasping her hands together and adding in a sing-song voice, "She's really shwa~ay!"
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"Stop rubbing your hands, Hex, you look like an imbecile," The Blank admonished dryly as he walked beside the probability controller, idly brushing a bit of dust off the shoulder of his jacket. "You sound like an imbecile, too. Does this look like the Academy's holding facility to you? 'The way we would' is the what we can count on our hosts not doing." Between the cackling probability controller and the bumbling duo of Thrash and the Prince in Yellow, The Blank considered himself easily the most intelligent and competent member of their ad hoc group, and consequently the rightful leader. Conveniently, however, finding Singularity was his priority as well.
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[Interceptors] Zombie Powder is a Helluva Drug [IC]
Gizmo replied to Dr Archeville's topic in West End
"" Jack shouted to the panicking crowd, leaping up onto the balcony railing to address them, the flickering light of the fire below illuminating the edges of his greatcoat. "" His usually melodic voice carried a note of firm confidence, carrying easily over the din about him. Scanning the crowd, he looked for anyone incapable of making it down the line on their own. -
[Interceptors] Zombie Powder is a Helluva Drug [OOC]
Gizmo replied to Dr Archeville's topic in Archives
Jack is going to make a Diplomacy check to calm the crowd down. Diplomacy check. (1d20+6=10) ... Jack is going to reroll a Diplomacy check to calm the crowd down. Diplomacy check. (1d20.minroll(11)+6=19) Nuts. -
Vince gave Colt and Fulcrum a haughty look, crossing his arms and tilting his chin upward. "Guy gets engaged and all of the sudden he thinks he's Jobs' gift to comedy." The projected AI waved a hand over the lapel of his jacket, a rainbow flag pin appearing there. "Besides, I think eHarmony's discrimination against same operating system couples if disgraceful." Though he remained composed, the gregarious host's simulated body language seemed a little bit hurt by the ridicule. "If you're able to provide an IP address," he told Erin smoothly, "I would very much like to meet another enlightened algorithm, as it were." Nearby the door, Jack gave Colt a light shove in the shoulder. "Nice one, spurs-for-brains. Just 'cause the guy's not trying to get physical doesn't mean he doesn't get lonely," he chided quietly. "Not exactly hitting up the bar scene, is he?" Jill nodded to Grim. "That was pretty wild, yeah. Might have to come up with an 'easy' mode for those of us you don't stick to walls, though."
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Jack led their guests into the Underground's central chamber, a multifaceted room with corridors leading off in all directions and a bank of consoles in the middle. When Fulcrum arrived from the apartment complex above, the swordsman gave her a familial wave, though he managed to maneuver the group's relative positions so that Harrier and Miss Americana didn't have a good line of sight up the stairs to the brownstone. "So, he's really..." Vince was asking Jill conspiritorially as they arrived. "But a terribly aerodynamically curvaceous tank, amirite, fellas? Looks like the Beaver's at it again, fly girl. Inviting his new playmates over for a sleepover without calling ahead." "Hey, the guy was in a jam!" Jack protested. He turned to Mona and shrugged. "Steve here's kind of, uh... an Omegadrone. But without the merciless engine of destruction and horror part!" "Which is key," Jill chimed in, raising her hand as though in a classroom. "Miss Americana's along for the ride 'cause mi hermano is just being mi hermano," the coltish teen added, rolling her eyes and hopping up to sit on one of the computer banks, swinging her legs back and forth.
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For the time being, Midnight opted to rely on his own lung capacity training rather than breaking of a rebreather from his belt. He only had a limited amount of air, and it made sense to save that in case he was forced to remain submerged later on. Fortunately, he was able to see just as well under the water as in the gloom of the cave, and gestured with two fingers to the right, leading the way as Dead Head, free from the constraints of living biology plodded along the riverbed behind him.
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"Speaks because she's a person, not a monster," Midnight interjected in his unnervingly filtered voice, quiet and without heat yet carrying easily to those around him. "Here at the whim of an unfortunately powerful madman. Switched for our parallel selves. Like to rectify that situation." His red lenses narrowed in his featureless mask, and if he found the towering automaton intimidating, his squared shoulders and glowering expression did nothing to show it.
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Remember, Darius, chronologically, this takes place before Welcome to the Interceptors, Jill O'Cure, so Fulcrum should still be calling Erik 'Jack'.
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A lean young man, head carefully shaven bald and eyebrows bleached a harsh white stepped out of one of the newly opened cells, a thin frown touching his mouth as he adjusted the cuffs of the black undershirt he'd found himself in. "Clearly this is the universe where I have no taste," The Blank sighed with annoyance, giving the unconscious girl at Hex's feet a brief look to ensure she'd be usable as a hostage if need be. The goatee wearing idiot had a trying habit of wastefulness when it came to the fairer sex. "Just give me a moment to put on my face, gentlemen."[/bg] Retrieving the matte black belt and fashion impaired buckled jacket from a nearby table, he donned the thankfully well tailored outfit before slipping on the featureless mask and beaten fedora."Better," he noted, cracking his neck once as his smooth baritone filtered through the built in gas mask.
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Trevor raised a hand in a weak wave as Erin left the garage, standing very still for a long moment before slowly stepping backward to head back outside, pulling his stained t-shirt off over his head and leaving in the Night Cycle's stall. Jogging through the night's slight chill to the campus track, he made a cursory inspection to ensure he was alone before shrugging out of his shoes and socks and taking off in a dead sprint. As he ran, arms pumping, thickening streams of inky black midnight mist poured off his pale skin, leaving a stygian vapour trail behind him as he moved faster and faster until abruptly throwing himself to the grassy field in the track's center. Heart pounding and breath heavy as mist continued to rise from him like ink drifting in water, Trevor laughed.
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"Queen of Grecian Underworld? Bride of Hades, daughter of Demeter?" Vince puffed out his chest, adjusting his monocle with one hand. "Certainly, we do brunch on Thursdays." Tossing the simulated eyepiece away like a discus, he readjusted his outfit to that of a mountaineer as the scenery around them shifted from lush forest to jagged stone, snow covered peaks and a stiff wind accompanying the change. "Or did you mean someone else?" he asked Erin with a wry smile.
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"Mmhmm," Trevor agreed with some difficulty, the noise coming out with a strangled pitch unlike his usual soft baritone. Clearing his throat as quietly as he could, the lean young man took a ginger step back to arm's length, having considerable trouble calling upon his much vaunted self control. "I... I'm just going to go out to, ah, to the track. Few laps before turning in." As his hands pulled back they traced their way down Erin's arms seemingly of their own accord, lingering longer than he'd intended.
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Jill's incredulous look moved from Erin to Colt as the simulation shimmered to life. "Attempted vehicular homicide isn't the worst you've seen?!" "Dios!" Jack all but growled as he rose from his leaning position, uncrossing his bare arms as the door hissed closed behind to to be replaced by the image of a rocky outcropping and a small waterfall. "I don't care if she broke his heart with a sledgehammer, you don't attack a girl 'cause she won't go out with you. How does that get you 'maybe' expelled? Pendejo..." "Humans are weird," Vince observed, reappearing from behind a massive fern in a khaki short sleeved safari outfit, complete with pith helmet and monocle. "Well, you are," he added defensively off a flat look from the swordsman. The coltish young woman hopped agilely up to a vine and sat down, using it as a swing. "Well, I don't feel so bad about my total lack of social life, now, anyway."
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Catching Erin's reflexive response, Midnight slid closer and murmured at a volume he knew her enhanced hearing could easily pick up, "Let me know if you want a weapon. Coat's full of them." He raised his voice to address the group as a whole. "Have to take the chance. At least they're no friends of the depraved lunatics after us now." He was inclined to think that the mirror logic would hold true for this version of Talos and his allies, however. It fit with the sort of twisted logic Rick Lucas, at least the version they were familiar with, had demonstrated in the past. Black is white, good is evil.
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After a moment of surprised, clumsy fumbling, Trevor closed his eyes, one hand remaining at the small of Erin's back while the other waited uncertainly before resting lightly across her shoulders. There was a new sense of urgency, a desperate need to convey the caldera of overlapping emotions he was feeling. Once again the young man ran out of breath first, but his lower lip didn't even leave her's as he took an uneven breath and leaned back into the kiss.
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Trevor shrugged as he replace the wrenches in his tool box and carried the red metal box over to the Night Cycle's berth. "Nope, pretty sure it's just you," he replied lightly as he dusted off his hands. "But if you wanted to add mechanics to ASL and driving, I could probably be persuaded." Sauntering over to where Erin stood in the middle of the garage, he slipped an arm around her waist. "So, uh... guess we should..." he trailed off, not bothering to look away from her brown eyes to indicate the exit.
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"Don't worry about it, Steve, there's probably tons of awesome stuff you don't have over in Crapworld. Hey, Vince, do we have that quantum entro-armor stuff?" Jack asked the empty air. The wall next to the swordsman suddenly blinked to life with a floor to ceiling screen, projecting the image of a sharply dressed middle aged man in a yellow and orange plaid suit walking alongside them. "Jacko, please, tri-Kelvin range quantum entropy discharge armor is so last season," the gregarious artificial intelligence scoffed. "These days everybody's lining up for the quad-Kelvin plating. It's got multitasking!" "Harrier, Miss A, meet Vince," Jill supplied. "He's pretty much in charge of all of this. Vince, meet Miss Americana and Steve the Omegadrone." The wall monitors blinked on in sequence, allowing the AI to keep pace with them, even as he blinked in simulated surprise. "Jill, honey? You wanna run that last bit by ol' Uncle Vince one more time?"
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(00:04:55) Gizmo: ...Mark knows Trevor's dad isn't dead right? (00:05:49) ShaenTheBrain: Wish he'd hurry up with that. (00:06:01) AvengerAssembled: Right, but he's figured out they don't TALK. (00:06:05) AvengerAssembled: You know, like you're supposed to. (00:06:15) ShaenTheBrain: Well, he's dead to Trevor, at least? (00:06:31) Gizmo: Hahaha... (00:06:37) AvengerAssembled: Sometimes your dad just abandons you and goes to another dimension, then he tells you he doesn't love you enough to come back. (00:06:37) Electra: Mark doesn't really understand the difference between moved away and dead. (00:06:43) Electra: He's kind of like a toddler that way. (00:06:50) AvengerAssembled: Yeahh....yeah. (00:06:58) Gizmo: (00:07:07) AvengerAssembled: "Is your dad...on a farm?" (00:07:14) Electra: "OMG! I can't see them! They're GONE FOREVER!" (00:07:34) AvengerAssembled: And that's why Marcie doesn't wear sports bras.
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Getting out of the truck himself, Trevor paused for a pair of beats when Erin started picking up the wrenches. Snapping out of it, he covered one eye with a palm and offered her a small, rueful smile. "Sorry, I was... Well, I was just thinking how cute you look holding tools. Guess I've got it pretty bad, huh?" Ducking his head embarrassedly between his shoulders, he moved to retrieve the wrenches from her. "Here, let me get that stuff."
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"Easy, girl," Jack of all Blades called as he released his grapple at the apex of one swing, Jill hanging on as the pair free fell a short distance before the swashbuckler repositioned the launcher and fired a new line. "No dissecting Steve the Omergadrone, 'kay? Guy's had a day and a half." "Comin' in with company, Vince!" Jill announced, tapping a comlink imbedded in the collar of her crimson jacket as the procession reached the edge of the West End. The pair abruptly dropped out of the air, and without warning the garbage dumpster below them split in two, each section sliding apart to reveal a metallic chute. The opening closed behind Miss Americana and Harrier, leaving the quartet in a long, well lit passageway. The swordsman gestured for them to continue on foot, indicating the space around him with a sweeping movement. "In case you've been living under rock or in an alternate dimension, I'm Jack of all Blades, this is my sister Jill O'Cure, and this... is The Underground."
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"I'll just bet you are," Jack responded to the introduction with a deep bow, one arm cast to the side. As the red, white and beautiful heroine lifted off with Harrier in tow, he sighed. "Why is it the nice girls always go for the monotone, part-robot horrors from beyond the universe?" Jill gave her brother a mighty glare as she threw and arm over his shoulder. "I'm so not even speaking to you right now." "Aw, hermanita, you know you love me," the elder sibling grinned, firing his grapple into the skyline above and swinging to catch up with the others. "Follow me, bright eyes!"
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Wrapping his own fingers around Erin's, Trevor closed his eyes for a moment as he exhaled in a clipped chuckle. "Point taken. Luckily I've found some better people to put my trust in." His digits were long and thin, but possessed of a sinewy strength from tightening bolts and gripping weapons. There was a long, silent moment before he reluctantly spoke again. "...honestly, I could stay like this all night, but..."