KnightDisciple

Gabriel paled enough he nearly matched his costume. He'd never really had to deal with the ordeal of a pregnant woman before, so he was likely started to mentally work himself into a panic. Almost on autopilot, he moved over to help Stesha onto one of the bees. He glanced at the others, frowning a bit. "I guess I could ride with Stesha? Jill could ride solo, and keep an eye on both her and Freedom Angel. And maybe GK could keep a grip on Freedom Angel? Or something like that? It might slow us down a bit, but it keeps us all moving." He bounced on his heels a bit, making it clear he was rather nervous and concerned.

Corbin rubbed sleep from his eyes; he and Cobalt Ranger had ended up sleeping in their conjured chairs on the rooftop. He'd taken a super-fast shower before they left, with a heaping helping of holy flame to get the extra grim off. Now, he blinked as he took in the close-but-not-quite site of Freedom City a couple of decades in the future and...under construction? "What in the world? Why's this whole place got those...banners..." He trailed off as the group approached. At first, nothing really clicked. Then he saw the woman with the Indigo Ring. None of the other new folks mattered at that point. He took a half-step forward, his right hand twitching as if to raise towards her in greetings. He looked confused, even hurt, by her reaction. "Jessica?" He shook his head, frown deepening. "But....No. Fine. I guess..." He seems to be at something of a loss for words. In some ways, this place is already confusing him more than what they'd seen previously. It all had a feeling of not-quite-right-ness, in a way he couldn't completely pin down. It left him feeling uncomfortable, nervous. He didn't like feeling like that.

22. Hm. Bruised 1, Stunned. I'll burn a Hero Point to cancel the Stun, but take the bruise.

Gabriel grit his teeth through the growing ache in his hands; nothing was broken, but padding or no, his hands weren't used to this sort of constant striking. Nonetheless, he soldiered on, knowing he had to help keep this guy busy, for the sake of Freedom Angel and Fleur (who really didn't need to be involved in a fistfight right now). "Come on you great bloody git! Take a hint and lay down!" A left cross hit close to where he'd previously struck the man's right side, working to really knock the wind out of him. "So take a bloody hint and get your arse to napping!" His right hand drives up right into the solar plexus of the criminal, working to knock every last bit of breath from his body, and hopefully rattle his brain so much he just falls over.

Hm. Started with 5HP. Spent 3 (1 of them technically this round, to prevent Fatigute). Gained 1 more. So...I'm at 3. Good to know. All-Out Attack 2: Melee Attack +12, Defense +10 Power Attack 2: Melee Attack +10, Toughness DC 20 Standard Action: Punch to the face! 17 should hit this guy since he's stunned. DC 20 Toughness Save. But that's not enough! Free Action: Extra Effort! Surge! Extra Standard Action! Standard Action: Punch in the opposite direction! 29! Free Action: Burn an HP to gain Improved Critical. Which would make that hit a crit. Which would make that Save DC a 25. Note: if the first hit miraculously drops him, I'll negate the rest of this.

"The fact that I'm wearing viable power armor should be a hint I'm not a schlub." Then he leans in further and pokes Jube in the chest with one clawed finger, his other hand twitching. "And you don't get to call me "son". You don't deserve to call me son. You call me that again, you regret it. I don't care how old you are. And if you even think about trying to joke about it, I make you regret it. Understood?" He barreled on through the conversation without giving the speedster a chance to respond in normal time. "And it's not about speed. It's about respecting the fact that before I helped you in the fight, I was actually working to gather more information from some of the suspects. I just had to move at normal person speed to do it. But yeah, I'll go talk to the local cops." With that, he stalked down the length of the train, muttering a couple of unkind words in Swedish and Russian, stopping once within earshot of the police. "Ah, gentlemen. Sorry we didn't help out sooner. Do you have anything in particular you need to know?"

Fenris had been right about the timing; it had taken only a couple more seconds, and the armor was fully up and running. And with his speeds, he was quickly outside of the train, albeit a bit further down its length. A short burst of speed solved that problem; he was in ideal sniping range for his weaponry. So he started to cut loose, firing off several blasts from his Particle Projector Cannons. A few of the Thuggees fired back, one of them hitting him (which even with such antiquated weaponry, was no large challenge), but the bullet simply *spanged* off the armor. In the space of perhaps two minutes, he'd managed to drop a goodly number of them, while Jubatus seemed able to take care of the rest alongside the four policemen. Then Jubatus zipped over and offered him "praise". The glowing eyes almost seemed to narrow, and Fenris leaned over a bit, arms crossed over his chest. "For someone who seemed to know who I was at the start of all this, you shouldn't be shocked. It's easily found out that this "tin can", which took quite a bit of skill and knowledge to build, is more than just "decorative". What's the matter, Meme-cat? Scared someone else actually manages to contribute?" It seemed clear he hadn't liked either the "dog-face" comment or the remark about whether his armor was decorative or not.

While the others had moved off into couples, or to a party, or other such activities, Cobalt Templar had migrated to the roof of the clubhouse. There he conjured himself a vaguely recliner-like chair, and sat back to stare at the stars, and conjure up a ghostly image of Quo-Dis, the love of his life. He reached up to touch the glowing blue face- "Wait, is that Ultiteen?" Faster than an eyeblink, the image is gone. In two eyeblinks, CT is halfway to standing before he realizes it's just Cobalt Ranger. He breathes a sigh of relief and returns to his chair and contemplation of the image of his girlfriend overlaid on the stars. CR walks over and conjures his own, slightly funkier, chair. "Yeah. Quo-Dis. She's my girlfriend. We've been going out for...about 8 months now. It's been an incredible ride. She...she's one of the reasons I got mad back there. I mean, we were at the graduation ceremony. We have this near-constant mindlink if we're close by these days. I was talking to her, trying to help her guide the evacuation to the shelters. And then, she was just gone. One moment I felt her fear and her love and everything, and the next nothing at all. It hurt." He gave a bitter chuckle. "I guess it's not as bad as poor Eve, who basically felt everything go way too quiet, but still. After a point, playing the "it sucks worse for you" game feels a bit pointless." He visibly tried to cheer himself up a bit as he turned to his Western-wearing double. "What about you? Are the two of you one of the top 5 funkiest couples on campus?" CR shifts uncomfortably in his chair. "I never worked up the guts." CT blinks and frowns. "Say again?" "I said I never worked up the guts, okay? I mean, bad enough I was the "square redneck rube" who didn't have much in the way of friends for my first couple of months here. Bad enough I was getting in fights most of that time. But...she's captain of the Women's Roller Derby Team! She's got that whole "natural grace and power" thing going on! Plus, she's got the whole crystal-disco chick vibe going on. Whenever I'm near her, I just can't think of what to say!" "Start with asking her to the movies. Or dinner. Or something." "But-" "No buts! You're a frigging superhero! You're on Radio Freedom! You're slinging around one of the greatest weapons created on this planet, and you're using it to help the lives of people all around you! You're one bad hombre! Forget the crap the rest of those losers say! Your team appreciates you. Your parents appreciate you. Who else do you need to appreciate you? Why do you hide yourself behind that whole "funk cowboy" thing?" "I'm tired of being another "square"!" "If people can't see you're an awesome guy when you're just being yourself, they're the squares. Who cares what they think? What they define as square or not? Take a little of that willpower you pour into that ring, and use it on yourself! Ask her out! Worst case, she says no, you move on with life. You're not me, so don't get caught up in thinking you have to end up in the same life, just wearing a cowboy hat and playing disco music." CR blinked, clearing needing a few minutes to mull the idea over. The two Corbins lapsed into silence, each staring at the sky for different reasons. Finally, CR conjured up a hand of fire, and held it out halfway to CT. After a moment, the armor clad hero caught on, and with a grin, conjured his own hand. They proceeded to fist-bump the hands of fire. "You're alright for a guy stuck in the Middle Ages." "And you're not bad for a reject from Silverado." They laughed at their own jokes, comforted by the fact that each knew the other bore no ill will in the words.

The would-be assassin was reeling, clearly having trouble focusing on the fight. Gabriel saw his chance, and he took it. Using a moment to slip the taser into one of his coat pockets, Gabriel sent his right fist roaring at the pencil-thrower's left temple. The hit connected with a loud, meaty sound. "Ya blasted son of a gun! Sit your fool rear down! Before we make you take a nap!" Running off the adrenaline, anger, and momentum, Gabriel took another swing. This punch landed in the sharp-throwers midsection, just below the ribs on the right side. It didn't sound quite as painful as the first hit, but it was still a solid blow. "I'm going to lamp you out of it, you blood git!" It seemed that the agitation of having to engage in fisticuffs while a good friend was laying on the floor bleeding had made Gabriel's control of his accent and slang slip a bit. Then again, with the honey and the giant bees and such, it probably didn't stand out much.

Hm. You know what, this guy's stunned. Why not throw a punch? Move Action: Pocket the taser! All-Out Attack 2: Defense is +10, Attack is +12 Power Attack 2: Melee Attack is +10, Toughness DC is 20 Standard Action: Punch at his face! 29 should hit. DC 20 Toughness Save! Okayed by the GM: Free Action: Hero Point to gain Improved Crit (Unarmed), which makes that 19 a Critical Hit. Which means it is now a DC 25 Toughness Save. Free Action: Extra Effort! Surge for another Standard Action! Standard Action: Another punch! 23; not as high, but should still be good enough if he's Stunned. DC 20 Toughness Save.

"That's not really what I was aiming for as a point, no." He lapsed into temporary silence as the others spoke, his smile a bit more genuine as the scientist spoke up in their favor as well. Then Talon asked his next question, and Gabriel let the real expert speak for a minute. Then Yoltsion opened his mouth, and Gabriel couldn't help himself any more. He started laughing. Not a chuckle, but a good belly laugh that lasted about 15 seconds before he calmed himself. "Wow, you ever heard of subtly, Yoltsin? Because we all know that the only naturally-born metahumans in the world are Terminus babies, right? Except there are plenty of people born every year with metahuman abilities that were never influenced by Terminus radiation of any sort." Suddenly, Gabriel's face grows serious, and he leans forward a bit in his seat. "Putting aside the rather shaky implication you're trying to make, that all people who've been somehow affected by Terminus energies are automatically suspect at best, you have to consider there's no inherent proof that "magic", as a whole, is any more "malicious" or "unnatural", than, say, gravity. Again, it's just energy. A tool. Only the very fringes in one way or another are such that they could notably affect wielders in some way or another, at least in the manner you're implying. I've seen several different sorts of magic-users. None of them were empowered by some sort of malevolent energy. Now, the demons I've fought a couple of times, sure. But barring a couple of villain mages, no. In fact, I think I've met more heroic magic-users than I have villainous ones. I'd wager the overall statistics worldwide lean towards at least an even split. Kind of like, you know, humanity in general."

"On average, it's somewhere in between those two extremes. Most of us teens find school a handy way to make at least a couple of friends. A lot of public schools have so many clubs and stuff, there's a really good chance of finding someone else who shares an interest or hobby of yours. Yes, there's still things like cliques, but to a point, that's just a fact of life." Cobalt Templar shrugged as he took another bite. "Push, you did cook extras, right? Anyways, ultimately, we just have to work with what we've got. Estelle's right; despite not having attended traditional high school, you've got yourself a great girlfriend, and other friends besides. I mean, you're a superhero, for crying out loud. That's got to count for something, right? I mean, I could sit and bemoan not going to "normal high school". Or I could decide this life's just as good, I get to meet great people, make awesome friends-" While speaking, a blue floating hand suddenly manifested and pointed at Blake for a moment. "Oh, and date an absolutely wonderful girl." A goofy smile spread across his face, while his eyes got a far-off look.

DC 20? I'd say a 28 takes care of that.

Works fine by me. Do you need me to do a battery of rolls for his Blast?

Gabriel shrugs at Push's question. "Not much you didn't catch; a couple comments about how long they'd been fighting, a joke about being more scared of his wife, and a remakr that this was the third attack by these forces. He did say each attack had those sorcerers with them, and that the "beastmen" were basically constructs of earth and such. Other than that, I think you heard all the high points I did." He frowned a bit. "There's clearly some sort of prejudice against mages here. Enough that there's an entire "Ordo Malleus" running around. Which makes one wonder about what has happened in this place. We still lack information; we need to be careful until we've got more knowledge about...well, basically everything going on."

Here's a thought. Jube could handle some of them, and then the guy in high-tech powered armor could knock a few out from range. Then, with his teleport, he can just sneak back on the train and go back about his business.

Gabriel blinked, then gave a wan smile to Grimalkin. He took her hand and gave it a firm shake. "Yes, you did a good job as well. I understand you weren't really trying to imply such a thing. This whole situation just has me on edge. Consider the matter put to rest." He looked at the rest of the group, and pointed back over his shoulder, down the hall they'd entered. "I don't know about anyone else, but I'm going home."

Gabriel kept the smile on his face, as well as the relaxed posture. He did raise an eyebrow at Yoltsin's words, though. "I will concede you have a point, Mr. Yoltsin." He paused for dramatic effect. "My analogy was decidedly imperfect. Here's another. Would you propose that everyone who does any level of weight training, martial arts training, self defense training, or similar activities has to go register themselves? Because that actually covers the reality of the range of magical abilities better. Some people have a very, very minor talent and skill set. They can accomplish things on the scale of "my tomato plant grows healthy all the time" or some such. These would be like people who do simple weight training; in a desperate situation, maybe they would have more advantage to keep themselves alive than someone who lacks what they have. But it's not a huge factor. As I understand it, quite a lot of practitioners would be like this. Another large chunk would be similar to those who do things like basic karate classes, or perhaps tai chi chuan, an art often employed by those of more...experienced...years in their life, to help increase their health. They have some basic skills applicable in a fight, but they're certainly not the type who could go out looking for one. In the same way, many others have some measure of skill and talent, but still can generally only do small things. Only a select few could be compared to the likes of those we see movies made about, those martial artists who actually can take on 6 armed men without a scratch. And as Siobhan so gracefully pointed out, those individuals generally either become heroes or villains anyways. I don't see why magic should get treated more harshly than metahuman abilities, or various technological gadgets, when it comes to hero-centric legal codes. And villainy is villainy, whether it's some crazed necromancer, Doctor Stratos, or the Grue. So, really, it comes back to the same point: Magic simply is. Barring some very specific fringe examples, it is neither good nor evil. It's simply a set of tools, tools that often seem to be custom-fitted to the user."

Disarm isn't really a function of Speed though, is it? It goes off your Strength; that is, how firm your grip on your weapon/device is. I mean, yeah, in comics and stuff they often disarm mooks. But, I guess I maybe wanted Fenris to have a chance to contribute to the encounter as well. :?

Gabriel waited for a bit longer, noting that Tarquin and the Scarab exchanged words. He couldn't listen in, and he figured either party would tell him if they so chose. Instead, he waited until the elder warrior seemed to finish before lowering himself to hover next to Scarab. He gave her a charming smile and extended his hand to shake hers. "Scarab, I've heard a lot of great things about you. I go by Gabriel. Real pleasure to meet you. Seems like you helped ups really square away victory. Hopefully we can keep the momentum up."

Gabriel kept his smile on his face, even as he noted the slight falter in Talon's steps. 'Hn. He should have known what he was getting into when he invited me. And if I can get the crowd excited about me being here, it'll make everything else easier.' He managed not to narrow his eyes at Sven Yoltsin. He didn't quite like the man already, and his odd demeanor didn't help. He smiled more genuinely when Siobhan walked in. He spoke into her ear such that no others heard, and his mouth didn't seem to move at all. "You're doing fine, Siobhan. Just take a couple deep breaths and relax. You'll do fine. May the best dashing hero in blinding white win." The chuckle after he spoke assured her his bravado was only meant to relieve stress. Then, of course, they got down to "business". Gabriel settled back into his seat, affecting a posture of careful contemplation. When he spoke, it was in clear, measured tones with no discernible accent, what some might call "Newscaster English". "You say it's a simple question, but it's not. Let me put it this way: Do you think gravity is dangerous? Friction? These are basic parts of our lives, but in the wrong context, they can kill us. Or, for a less abstract thought: Automobiles. In 2010, the United States experienced 32,708 deaths due to automobiles. Yet few people seem to think automobiles are some dangerous thing that should be banned. Instead, we recognize that accidents happen. And when negligence or malicious intent occur, we hold that party responsible. Magic, in my mind, is the same way. I've met practitioners of several philosophies and methods. I've studied history to see examples of even more. Some used their magic to protect, some to heal, some to build, some to kill, some to conquer. Granted, our exact understanding of every aspect of magic is less, but we have plenty of evidence it is, in the end, a tool. And any tool can be dangerous, in the wrong hands. So my "simple answer" would be: No, with a small smattering of Yes." He gave the camera a wink and settled back, a polite grin on his face.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a trumpet, clear and strong, ringing throughout the studio. It cut off just as the curtains opened, and Gabriel walked through the opening. Or rather, floated through. He made the motions of walking, but there were distortions around his feet, and he was about 6 inches off the stage as he came down the steps. He waved energetically with both hands, a broad smile on his face. His whole person practically shines in the bright lights, his coat clearly having been cleaned and treated recently, to restore a nearly-new luster to it. He moved around as if his presence here was natural and good. When he spoke, his voice rang out crystal-clear, both to the live audience, and the people watching at home. "A blessed evening to all of you here and abroad! It's my great honor to be here, it really is! I think we'll all have a great time tonight, and hopefully learn a little bit more than we knew before!" With that, he float-walked over to his seat, swept his coat into a comfortable position, and sat down.

Cobalt Templar stood there, weathering the useless assault of the skeletons with naught but a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "That's what you get for bargain bin shopping." Suddenly, he blasted into the air, arcing his course a bit until he was almost directly over the necromancer. He "braced" against the air, and suddenly the over-sized fist was flying right at the dark wizard! It struck him head on, while a copy of the same fist reformed from fire around CT's arm. "That's what you get for saying you'll turn me into a Frankenfreak, buddy."

Hm. I could try to smack down all the minions...or I could go for the "head of the serpent", as it were. Move Action: Fly up into the air, so I have clear LOS on the Necromancer. Standard Action: First... All-Out Attack 2: Defense now +3, Attack now +11 Power Attack 2: Attack now +9, Toughness Save DC now 26 Blast at the Necromancer. 16 probably isn't good enough. So, Hero Point Reroll! 19, which becomes 29 once you add in the HP Reroll bonus (I think it applies to rolls of 10 or below). Toughness Save DC 26.

Gabriel had turned as Bowles responded positively; this was good, excellent even. Cooperation, and in such a way that it helped potential investigations as well! Then the big prisoner yelled and threw a pencil at the Bee-Keeper. And of course, Heyzel stepped in the way. Taking it right in the chest. Gabriel was stunned for a brief moment, before he gritted his teeth in anger and charged the prisoner. "Sit down and shut up!" He swung the taser right at the man's face, hoping to get a good blow in.