Raveled

Strike again. Since it worked so well last time! (1d20+10=30) Muwahahaha! Ah-hahahaha!

"Mm. Well, it's not like we're all at the same company," Jessica said. "We each have our area of expertise. I tend towards more traditional areas of engineering, while Mara's very good at more esoteric sort of stuff. We've got another scientist there who's all about quantum mechanics -- very cutting edge theoretical physics, really. And Miss America's a wizard with computers." She paused a moment, thinking. "I suppose when I look at it, we've got the physical sciences covered, but we're not very good in regards to the life sciences. I mean, we have a biotech wing and a hospice, but we don't have anyone really working on research in that field, you know?"

Jessica grinned and leaned closer to Blake. "I was kind of thinking this pastistio stuff, with some fasolada soup." She winked at him, their faces very close. "It says here that it's the national food of Greece, you know." She enjoyed whispering with her boyfriend a few more seconds, then the server was at their table. The young inventor sat up straighter and cleared her throat before ordering. "Ah, yes. I'll have the pastistio, with the fasolada to begin with." She took another quick glance at the menu. "And, um, some of the bottled lemonade sounds lovely!" She gave the server a bright smile as she replaced the menu in the middle of the table.

Jessica returned with the coffees and set two out for Quo-Dis and San-Ur, taking the last for herself. She listened to the alien mother and Corbin talk with interest. "There's another thing to consider," she pointed out. "For all of our superheroes, our culture tries to downplay violence, not glorify it. Kids in school are taught not to bully others and not to get in fights, to seek non-violent resolutions to conflicts." She paused to sip her coffee. "Having a major conflict decided via champions would kind of undercut that. 'Don't fight kids, but look at this fight that decided so much and protected us'? No one responds well to hypocrisy."

Ironclad strode confidently off the twitching hound and rose her fists, bearing down on its shaky-looking brother. Or rather, that was the plan, but at the last second the beast underneath her feet twisted and tried to roll, throwing the heroine's balance off. She spun, hopped on one leg, and managed to get within a long leap of the animal that was left. She decided to take the chance and turned her jump into something approximating a hammerblow; if it hit, it might just put this last one down and she could pass the maneuver off as something intentional.

Disruptor attack vs. Puppy 2 (1d20+9=12) :cry: If by some miracle that its, DC 24 Toughness check.

Strike 10 w/ Area/Burst, so it covers an area w/ a 50 ft radius Autofire AoE (Selective) Strike (1d20+10=28) Heck yeah! DC 25 Toughness save, and Autofire 1 on that, too.

Glowstar watched as the fog spilled out of the alley and across the street, quickly obscuring the fighting figured below. He tried scanning the area with his super-vision, but even though he was able to sweep through the nearby buildings he remained unable to spot the heroes and Herne. Still, as another scream came from inside the restaurant, he realized there was something else he could do. The hero swept through Herne's exit hole in a red blur and touched down just inside. "Citizens," he called in a loud voice. "I would recommend you leave the area. Now!" The hero spread his arms wide and channeled his power; with a shocking burst of black motes, red tendrils of energy erupted from his palms and sliced through the building, seeking out wrong-doers and somehow avoiding the innocents in the process.

Jessica jumped to her armored feet, punching the air. "Yes! That is how it's done, gentlemen." She gave a mock bow and collected her tools in one hand; even to Push, they looked like nothing so much as a set of lockpicks, all long pieces of variously-bent metal. They slotted neatly into her gauntlets though, and it was impossible to pretend that she hadn't fixed the motor with them. "Gonna have to keep things well-greased, though, or the chains are gonna break regardless." She walked back outside and smooched Blake on the cheek. "Let's see if there's some regular mops and brooms inside, hm?"

Brain kept quiet in the back, staring out the window as they passed through Bayview, the taller spires of the city in the background. He absorbed everything the upperclassman said, though. They actually do have flying cars, he mused quietly. What else would he see? Whatever he was imagining didn't live up to the reality. He frowned out the window at the old-world styling of the buildings, looking around at the surroundings. "I was kinda expecting something different," he admitted. "Something more like a military base, maybe, with people out in the quad running training drills. Or like a space-base, all hyper-advanced and Space Age." He turned in a slow circle, taking in the full view. "Do you really train folks with superpowers here?"

"I feel the same way. In fact, you and my granddad were the biggest influences that got me into heroing. He taught me that if you have a gift, if life gives you a helping hand, you should give back to people." She shrugged. "I'm smarter and I'm richer than most people can ever hope to be. I have a lot to give back. But even more than that, using science to go out and help folks directly -- I took that from you, Doktor." Jessica blushed as a particular memory surfaced. "In fact, I tried to build your electromagnetic tool for a science fair project back in high school. But it just ended up magnetizing the car. I, um, didn't try anything like that again. And I made a toothpick model of Archestern for Art class, once." She suddenly realized how much of a fan-girl she sounded at the moment and blushed harder. She glanced around to try and cover for it, and ended up pointing at the exam bed. "Do you want me to lie down on that again, for the radiation tests?"

Glowstar going after Herne Autofire 2 Blast (1d20+10=26) A-hahaha. Oh, wow. Um, DC 25 Toughness save. And Autofire 2 means that for every point the Attack goes past his Def, Toughness DC increases by 1, up to +5.

Brian wasn't prepared for how fast things would swing into action, but reflexes his mother had drilled into him kicked in and he jumped into action -- literally, leaping in the sky, his force field flickering to life around him and bathing the scene in ruddy light. "Bad move, Viking boy," he shouted, bringing his hands around to face the villain literally cutting into rocky hero. Red and black energy blasts flew from his hands, dozens of them in the space of a second, and slammed down towards the melee.

For Glowstar 1d20+2=14 Nice.

"Oh." Brain looked back and forth between the greasy-spoon and the apparent superheroes ready to assault it. He took off his sunglasses and shrugged out of his coat, slipping the glasses into the same pocket as his resume and folding the thick leather garment over a trashcan. He pulled off his tie, bundled it up, and stuffed it into a back pocket on his jeans, then undid the top few buttons on his shirt. He rolled his shoulders and altered his stance, moving his feet shoulder-width apart. "Gonna fight some bad guys. I can get behind that." He moved into the alley itself, so he wasn't so visible from the street. "When do we go in?"

Jessica winced inwardly. Ever since November she'd done her level best to avoid her parents; with the Lab and Blake and patrolling, she'd succeeded these past few months. The last thing she wanted to do was to call them up, tell them she'd been a victim of a chemical attack, and was getting her bits and pieces probed by a German fellow old enough to be her father. "Well, why don't we start with what we can do, first," she suggested. "No reason to bother my parents unduly." Or at all, she added to herself. She hopped off the exam table and straightened the visitor badge. "I think you might be underestimating your popularity, Doktor. You were really one of the heroes I looked up to when I was younger."

Indeed. Both Ironclad and Glowstar have been 'modeled' using this. Personally, I prefer CoX's art and character designs, but a monthly fee is a bit much for just the character designs. Now, if they'd release that software as a stand-alone... :argh:

Brian Harris wasn't there to observe criminals or stop a gang war. The teenager had been at Claremont for a week or so, and even though the faculty had assured him that his expenses would be covered, he hadn't been raised to just sit around and accept the charity of others. Besides, he was going stir-crazy without anything to do in his free time. A quick glance through the classified ads showed a few job openings, not too far from Bayview, where the school was. He had called each of them, and this was the only place that had called back. The young man touched down a few blocks away from the restaurant, dressed in khakis, an Oxford shirt and a tie, and zipped into a leather biker jacket for warmth; his resume, thin as it was, was folded into an inside pocket. He oriented himself and started walking down the street towards the restaurant. What would they say when they saw he could fly, or when they saw his red eyes? He reached up and fiddled with the wrap-around sunglasses he'd bought for this interview, and determined to make a good enough impression that it wouldn't matter. Half a block from the joint he glanced sideways and noticed two men standing in an alley, talking. One of them looked half-melted and the other was black -- not like Brian's skin was turning or like someone of African descent. Totally black, like obsidian. His pace slowed to a crawl and the young man frowned for a moment; the black one seemed to be watching the place where Brian was hoping to get a job. Having his interview interrupted by a supercriminal attack probably wouldn't reflect well on him. Brian jogged across the street, making a beeline for the two men. He stopped at the mouth of the alley and called out to them. "Hey! You two guys! If you're going to attack that place," he said, indicating the restaurant with a jerk of his head, "can we get it done and over with? I've got a job interview in there, and I don't want to be late for it."

For those as clueless as me: Starro. Yeah, the starfish from that episode of Batman Beyond.

Fixing a motor. (1d20+10=22) Didn't you know? She is awesome at fixing stuff!

Jessica gave a small smile. "I suppose that's the least I could do for you," she said wryly, "for figuring out exactly what's -- exactly what happened to me. I suppose having heavy metals in my body could cause problems down the road. It would be a good thing if I could take it then." For a moment her expression grew clouded and dark, and her eyes focused on something outside the confines of the room. Before more than a handful of heartbeats had passed, though, her countenance cleared and she gave Archeville another bright smile. "Besides, a chance to work with you? I be there are people who would give an arm or a leg to be where I am right now!"

Jessica sat back, listening to Blake and Mara talk. They seemed to be getting along well -- Mara was even using proper sentence structure, which was rare for her. Did she understand how important this chance meeting was to her friend? In any case, this was going a lot better than Jessica had dared to hope it would. The young woman's stomach growled, reminding her why she'd come here in the first place. There were several menus stacked in the middle of the table and she grabbed one as a waiter exited the kitchen, oriented on them, and advanced.

Jessica tugged at Blake's arm, pulling him over to the ordering counter. Quo-Dis's outburst had drawn some looks, but in a city that weathered alien invasions and the living dead, it barely registered. Still, several customers had decided to get their caffeine fix somewhere else, and the pair were able to walk right up. "Three black coffees," Jessica ordered. She dug out her wallet and put a couple of bills on the counter, then turned to talk to Blake. "So does this look anything like when you met my folks? 'Cause this thing just feel like it's headed towards a meltdown."

Brian was quiet as they collected his bag and walked out to the van. He listened to the -- teacher? Faculty-person? -- Mrs. Harcourt with one ear, sneaking sidelong glances at Mark as they moved through the terminal. He was being awfully quiet; did he resent being sent to fetch and underclassman, just another would-be superhero without enough of whatever they needed to be a for-real superhero? Or was this his normal attitude, and Brian was reading too much into it? As they crossed into the parking garage and neared a vehicle with a Claremont bumper ticks, he gave a slight frown. The young man loaded his suitcase and took a seat in the back of the van. He knocked on the door supports, then braces against the roof and pushed. "This thing doesn't fly," he asked, "does it? Because if it does I'm gonna need a lot more than a seat belt."

Is this filled up? I'd like to get Glowstar in, if I can.