Fox
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"Thank you, though I wasn't the only one there," Eclipse noted in uncharacteristic modesty. In the presence of someone like the Grand Nauarchus, it had taken physical effort to not straighten up; apparently you could take the Alarian out of the military, but.... "Other than the fool who tried to bring a tower down on our heads, everyone pulled their weight pretty well. Doesn't hurt that I have the best damn crew in the known universe, either - or that some of your people, Knight, can apparently take down anti-aircraft towers with their bare hands. Still," she said, flashing her extra canines in a grin, "thanks. I'm bettin' you two didn't call us all the way out here for thank-yous and a pat on the back, though."
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Gaian Knight & Tiamat - Dragonfly (maxed) Count Your Blessings (1) So Great a Cause (2015) (5) Wraith Kiss Me and Smile for Me (1) Eclipse - Grim MAXimum Load (10) Monster Mash (4) Roll 1 post (or more, if I miscounted) from Dragonfly over to Grim to bring him up to 15, and split the remainder between GK and Eclipse so that they get something, I guess. Ref point to Eclipse, please.
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Matt put a hand over the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in a pained grimace as he listened to Mischa debase himself. "No, man, I don't care about-- okay, y'know what, no. Let's start this over. Iiiiii," he said, speaking loudly and slowly as if to a child, "am here, to stooooop youuuuu. No more drugs. I am shutting you down. I don't want to deal with that crap being on the streets, and the 'leetle kids' made it my problem. No more drugs. No business. Not for you, not for me, not for anybody, okay?" He opened his eyes again, scowling; the dog growled again, echoing an unspoken sentiment the two appeared to be sharing. "Also: nobody's going to kill the 'leetle kids'. And hey, you're out of business but I'm apparently going to stop your psycho knife dude, too, so...that's a thing. Tell me whatever you know about him, or I'll...I dunno." He glanced down at the unfamiliar weapon in his hands, poking at it until he accidentally brushed the trigger and sent an incendiary blast into the nearest vase, rendering it nothing more than shards and ashes. Matt seemed as surprised as anyone, but after a moment of wide-eyed silence he shrugged and rolled with it. ".....yeah, sure, okay. Or I'll do more of that, to all this crap you own."
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"Roger that, Control," Eclipse transmitted back, once she was in proper range; for about the fiftieth time, she made a mental note to ask Nae-Dae about a proper communications upgrade. She let the ship coast for a bit as the drive spun down before grabbing the controls and gently turning her ship toward their destination. "Coming in to land, weapons cold." She hit the comms switch to end communication, purple eyes scanning the fetal ships as they passed. She wouldn't trade a single one of their shiny, newly-forged hulls for her baby's. "Weapons cold" didn't mean "stupid", of course; even as the Alarian swept on her cloak she was pulling up the ship's security system to make sure it was appropriately paranoid. She'd been in the military for longer than she liked to admit - most of them were likely to be decent but even here she wasn't going to take chances. "C'mon, Rock, Nae-Dae," she called out, opening the main door with a hiss and stepping out onto the landing ramp. "Let's go see what the Knight and Grand Nauarchus want, and how much they're willing to pay for it."
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"Aw, for--" Matt wasn't necessarily thankful for why he had good reflexes when faced with a firearm (though he did wish the term was a bit less literal, in this case), but he was grateful for having them as he dove to the side. "I'm not a psycho knife-wielder, you stupid-- oh, forget it. FANG!" Mischa, faced with two moving targets, had made the cardinal sin of not keeping an eye on both. Matt's dog was less than intimidated by the contraption the drug peddler wielded, but it was extraordinarily and obviously displeased, fangs bared and hackles raised. At Matt's call it charged the man, snarling and snapping.... ....only to wheel off at the last second, Matt having followed suit to come up from the side. With Mischa distracted he grabbed the man's wrist and twisted, wrenching the gun away and pushing off to get a few steps' distance. "I don't kill people," he insisted, baring teeth of his own as he glared at Mischa in disgust. The dog seemed to echo the sentiment, issuing a low growl as it paced in front of the door...and between the Slovokian and freedom. "Great. That's just...now I have to deal with you and I have to go deal with some murdering psychopath. And maybe whatever he's leaving behind. This day sucks."
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"A deposit box seems likely," Wraith agreed, three-eyed gaze looking up at the building. She was trying to determine how she'd get in or out...though her skill set was unique enough that she wasn't sure it was terribly relevant. Good practice, at least. She'd been fairly quiet that morning, though it wasn't unusual - polite as ever, if a little more open than she had been back in high school. Open enough to give Mali a many-armed hug when she found out the fighter was joining the team, certainly...they'd never been extraordinary close, but it hadn't seemed to dampen her enthusiasm, or her promise that they'd have to spar later. Temperance she didn't know so well, but a friend of Kimber's was a friend of hers, and that was more than enough for a warm and polite welcome. Eve was putting together quite the team, she knew, and she knew the value of diversifying the powers and personalities they had at their disposal; there was flexibility and strength in variety and teamwork. Which brought her back to the task at hand, eyes rotating a fraction of an inch as she focused on the bank structure. "I am concerned by their...what is the word, braveness?" she hummed, eyes turning down in a frown. "Their actions draw a great deal of attention - they must know there will be a response. They are either confident they can fight their way out, or they have a plan to allow them to escape. I do not like either option."
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"Technically don't need plates until food," Mara quietly insisted, good humor robbing her pout of its impact. "It's efficiency. People will be too busy talking to each other to notice anyway. Don't really have to go back downstairs until people start showing--" The arrival of Talya and Min cut her off, and the young woman's perfectly logical protests fell back into her throat as a indistinct pained noise. Even then, it took several long seconds for her to remove her hands from the back pockets of Ellie's jeans, and a few more besides to finally step back and give herself room to straighten herself up - a quick brush through her dirty-blond hair to mostly tame it back into place, and a quick tug to straighten out a smart grey button-up blouse that flattered a figure nicer than the one she'd had before she fell under her girlfriend's athletically critical eye. Not that she was ever going to turn heads on the street - but she could turn a head, and that was the one that mattered. The grumbling noises continued, good-naturedly, as she bent to pick up her share of the plates. "Okay, fine, yes. Plates."
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Matt's pretty big on not getting shot at anymore! Plus, I don't think I've ever actually disarmed anyone, so it's about time I give the mechanics of it a shot. First things first, though; he didn't pay 43pp for dogs that sit around doing nothing! Dog Move Action: Run up to harry Mischa. Move Action: Harry Mischa. Intimidate Check vs. Mischa (Fast Task: Startle): 1d20+15 31 The dog'll go ahead and pass that flat-footed on to Matt. Matt Move Action: Also run up to Mischa! Standard Action: Disarm. Disarm Attack vs. Mischa: 1d20+12-5 15 Hrrrm. Hopefully that hits, if he's flat-footed. If so, it'll be a nice DC23 (DC18 on his unarmed attacks, +5 on the power attack) Strength check or be disarmed (with Matt holding the gun!). Either way, both Matt and the dog have move-by action; if they have movement left, Matt'll get a little distance and the dog will stand in front of the door so Mischa can't run without moving him.
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Sense Motive Checks vs. Mischa: 1d20+5 16 1d20+6 23 Clueless, both of them! The dog comes close, but Mischa has the better modifier, so he wins the tie.
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"Stupid piece of hacked-together junk, what idiot made you...." Mara stood over her capacitor array scowling, pulling junks of debris out of it - not the direct fault of any one person, but it hadn't been designed with combat in mind. The back of her head was already spinning with design improvements for next time, if there was a next time.... She'd frankly been expecting to take the hit from their enemy, and have the work finished by Miss Americana; when Willow took that blow, she spared a concerned glance before forcing her attention back to her work. She wasn't going to let that be in vain, nor the frankly attractive efforts of her girlfriend, but this stupid machine.... She growled, grabbing two of the rings and ignoring the arcs of residual electricity that arced up to her gauntlets to score the metal. "#### it, had better be worth it, going to punch Jack in the nose, shove my metal boot up the bad guy's...." she muttered, hauling on it with the strength her suit had left and sending it spinning. It responded immediately, gaining speed as it pulled power out of the anomaly and drove it toward the city grid.
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"Ninety percent?" Matt asked, trying to sound impressed. The dog had taken a sniff of air and sneezed, and Matt echoed the sentiment. He wasn't a chemist, but going from 80% of something that got people addicted and risked killing them to 90% of something that got people addicted and risked killing them didn't sound like much of an improvement to him. At least the place seemed pretty unsecured - he wished he'd just called up more dogs and come in force, but as long as he was still playing the fool maybe he could follow this trash up the chain. "Surprised you haven't got into trouble, man, comin' in and selling better stuff. I'd be afraid of buying or selling like that and pissing off the local gangs - must have a pretty good supply, too, to live this nice."
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"Didn't get your guy's name," Matt answered truthfully; his assailant had, after all, been somewhat less than forthcoming. "Dude tried to mug me in an alley, but we...came to an understanding. Figured it was worth seeing the guy who could get someone like me that kinda stuff." Also not technically a lie, but his dog rolled its eyes in as dramatic a fashion as it could manage. This was, as it turned out, fairly dramatic. "Look, man, c'mon - you can let me in or I can wait out here all day buzzin' you. I've got time."
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Matt...really wished he'd thought this one through a little better. He was used to thugs that hung out in alleys and abandoned tenements; even then, he tried to not meet them on their turf. It wasn't likely to end well. Still, was it better or worse than having to know every time some fool overdosed or had their body finally give up on them? He'd had to explain the whole "you're dead" thing to a couple of ODs already, and it sucked both times. Something like this, kids his age? "I guess we should have some kinda clever plan," he opined, glancing down at his dog. The dog shrugged - an out-of-place gesture from a quadruped, but distinctly a shrug none the less. "....yeah, okay. Hey, Mischa!" he called out, casually pushing the intercom button with one thumb and trying to not look too out of place. "Met some new friends today, said I could find some interesting stuff here."
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"Nothin' here. Not the kinda party I'm used to," Matt admitted, shrugging. "I'm usually--" He was cut short by the dog bumping against his leg, nearly spilling the boy's drink on his cloak in the process. It was a common enough problem, apparently - he kept the drink from spilling and frowned down at the creature that was trying its hardest to evoke his sympathy. "Nothing, huh? Yeah, well, serves you right. ...don't look at me like that." His dog whined, weakly thumping its tail on the floor as if it barely had the strength to do so. "...okay, fine, but just the one. You'll get sick," he insisted, dropping his last slice of sausage down to a worryingly-toothy mouth. "Like, uh. Like I was saying, not sure what kinda games you'd do here, so unless someone's got a bottle to spin I'm outta ideas."
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I'll be visiting family next week, the 22nd through the 28th; I'll still try to keep up with posts as best I can, but may or may not be around quite as much until I'm back.
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APPROVED!
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Something about that apparently struck Matt as pretty funny; the corners of his lips curled up despite his mood and he issued a couple barks of involuntary laughter. "Safe?" The shadows in the alley grew dark, even for the advancing hour, like they were trying to crawl up the walls and shut out the light. Matt didn't seem to notice, nor did he seem to notice when something started stalking its way out from the now-black shade of a dumpster. "Nowhere's safe," he insisted, cocking his bitter grin to the side as the dog stepped out behind him - it seemed unnatural, somehow, until the shadows retreated and the light hit it, but even then it was big: probably heavier than the girl, with thick fur dark as coal and keen yellows eyes watching them with interest. "Some're safer'n others, but life's pretty cruel. You pick a fight with some kid in crappy clothes, say, and how'd that go for you?" The boy turned his back, dog following him out of the alley as he realized how close that siren had come while he showboated. "Get your friend outta here, and do somethin' better with your lives. Make better choices, or something, I don't care. I'm gonna go take a stroll toward Boardwalk."
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"....nah," Matt countered, sparing half a glance toward the sirens...though he didn't seem keen on taking his eyes off his would-be muggers. "Nah, I know what it's like. You're either with 'em or you're in their way, right? And if they don't single you out then you're just caught in the middle of some territory grab or whatever. Whoever wins, nobody wins." He scowled, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Not gonna lie: not a big fan of the police, myself. How 'bout you tell me where I can find Mischa, and we all just walk away before we've gotta answer a bunch of stupid questions? Your runner's high's gonna last as long as the Max does, and then it's gonna kill your stupid butt, and I'm not dealing with that today."
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Dragonfly took a deep breath as she healed, visibly straightening as her ribs healed up - though she had to reach up and pop some of the armor there out a bit to give the breath a little more room. She was not looking forward to armor repairs, but there were higher priorities. And higher-priority targets, on both sides. "We'll be okay," she confirmed, giving Jill a quick squeeze before indicating that she could stand comfortably on her own again. "...can get the machine going if you can keep them off me and the machine," she added, frowning up at the villains as she made a quick assessment. "Don't...bother trying to heal Americana, but get her on her feet and away from portal if I go down. Going to do a little interference on my way over, then I need to focus on what I'm doing; supposed to be a two-scientist job. ....good luck." "Hey idiot!" she shouted, making a flight-assisted dash toward her creation, already reaching out to it with her mind to assess its status. "Cheese!" Most of the drones went with their mistress, but one of them, unattended, had shot up behind Mastermind; at her word it circled around to hover inches in front of his face. It issued an annoyingly cheery trill before the lens that covered its forward face lit up in a dizzying, nauseating pattern of randomly-strobing too-bright neon.
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"Wha--" Matt grimaced, holding the side of his head as he turned to glare at the girl. "You people tried to mug me, and I'm the jerk?? I didn't even start this fight!" "And Max?" he added, glaring at the mugger as he rubbed his head. "What're you, stupid? That crap kills people, man. Burns you out, wrecks your body." He spat, gesturing at the mugger's physique with a scowl that bordered on disappointed. "What good is all that when your heart gives out? I'm not dealin' with a bunch of you idiots dying in alleys and hospitals 'cos you got too lazy to go hit the gym for a while, or whatever. Where'd you get it?"
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Standard Action: Dragonfly sends the drones to strobe Mastermind right in his stupid face. Ranged Attack roll vs. Mastermind (drone strobe): 1d20+12 17 ....oh, come on. Come oooooon. I'm going to re-roll that just to avoid being too useless, and to maybe keep Mastermind busy for a round. I fully expect this to screw me over when I have to reroll later. Ranged Attack REROLL vs. Mastermind (drone strobe): 1d20+12 14 .....oh, screw you, Orokos. Plus ten is 24, which SHOULD hit. I hope. This is Dragonfly's Dazzle + Nauseate: he gets a DC22 Reflex to avoid it, and if he fails he's Blind and gets a DC22 Fortitude save or he's Sickened as well. Move Action: Head on over to the machine she built. SURGE: Risk fatigue (on herself, not the suit, thankfully) to try to start it going.
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Aw, hell, he was on something. That never went well. It explained the desperation, though, and the stamina; Matt just had to hope against hope that the physique was a coincidence and the fool was on something nice, and normal...and not something that gave street punks six-packs. He really didn't think he was that lucky. "Nope," he insisted, sliding sideways out of a punch that may as well have had a neon sign attached to it. "Standing still seems like a bad plan. You're like twice my size. Not gonna die today, man - dying sucks. Trust me." Matt's advantage, without his four-legged friends or using powers, was that he'd always been the underdog. The scrappy kid in the wrong end of town, getting into trouble. He knew the dance: duck, harry, wait for that opening...and there, when his opponent moved a little too slowly, foot just an inch too heavy. Instead of dancing away like he had been, Matt stepped straight into the boy, moving past the reach of his punches and driving an elbow into the kid's nose. "There," he scowled, stepping sideways just in case, "another hit for you. You coulda asked - it ain't worth much, but I'll give 'em out if I've gotta. The hell did they put you on, anyway? What hook did you let someone stick in you?"
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Welp, one more round as a normie, maybe. Matt now has questions! Melee Attack Roll vs. Mugger (power attack +5/-5): 1d20+12-5 21 Same as before - DC23 Toughness.
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"Nope, just one of you then," Matt observed; he slid a foot back to keep his balance, pivoting out from under the muscle-bound fist to drive a strictly mundane fist of his own into the youth's ribs. It was...less effective than hoped. He at least used the momentum to hop away a bit, putting a couple feet between him and his mugger - and resisting the urge to call in reinforcements immediately. Escalating had a way of going bad when you didn't know what you were up against; for all he knew, the idiot had a gun. Or worse. "I know you're hungry, man," he said, shaking his punching hand, "I've been hungry too. Hell, I'm still hungry. But what've you been eating, bricks?"
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Punchin' time! Melee Attack Roll vs. Mugger (power attack +5/-5): 1d20+12-5 13 Missin' time, I suspect, but in the unlikely event that does hit Matt's not whipping out the obvious powers yet - just a DC23 toughness (15 + 3 str + 5 power attack).
