KnightDisciple
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Alek smiled a bit. "Suppose my toys are better now. Certainly didn't have the...anyways. Looking forward to driver's license." Paige may well have been told by the Barbeaus that Alek was working with Raven, but even so, the boy was playing things close to the chest, likely unsure how secure the room was. Indeed, he was taking his time to case out the space, noting passages in and out of the space, potential cover points, even improvised weapons. His thoughts were under fairly tight control, but those sort of automatic observations were fairly surface-level; Paige wouldn't really have to pry to pick them up. The way he clasped his hands behind his back and kept a rigid posture suggested he was still uncomfortable, if not quite nervous. He looked toward her at the mention of growing, having the grace to look down for a moment and blush slightly, before making eye contact again at the mention of her son. His brow furrowed a bit as he looked thoughtful. "Know of him. Met him a couple times. Friendly. Lots of energy. Likes flirting and being nice to the girls on campus, but not in a...skeevy...way. Seems more like he's trying to get smiles and laughs than dates. Usually." He tried doing that totally-not-a-smile expression that folks like the Summers family and Hunter family can manage, but only partially succeeded, showing a bit of a curl to his moth and crinkle at the edge of his eyes. "Seems like a good guy. Fast, too." Alek looked at the available seating for a moment before picking one of the free chairs, minutely adjusting it so he was facing Paige directly...but had his arms crossed over his chest in a way that totally wasn't one step above hugging himself, and the ankle of one leg resting on the knee of the other, giving a sense of being partially closed off. "It's good. Really is. Interesting place. Interesting setup. Good teachers. Some good kids there. Making some friends. Having fun even when I'm not on patrol. Some of them are...hotheads...though. Or just don't understand why tactics are important." Sounded like a source of frustration for the meticulous young man.
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Nevermore really just wanted to, like, punch a fuse box at this point. It would relieve anger, and give him the cover of darkness that he needed. Still, knowledge was power, and having live feeds of where the enemy was moving about was even better. He drew out his palmtop computer from his belt and began to make notes, trying to determine what, if any, pattern the roving guards followed. Plus, maybe he could get a better idea of how they were all armed, and where, in general, all of them were. Then there was the task of determining if there was a utility closet or basement section or some such that would let him get at electrical subsystems. Or if nothing else, getting a better idea of what rooms were where and how they connected to each other. Knowing the lay of the land was just as valuable as knowing patrol patterns; the latter weren't much use without a picture of where to go to avoid them. He doubted this place was riddled with convenient man-sized ventilation ducts. The girl in the bedroom confused him a bit. Was she a prisoner? Mistress? Daughter? He glanced at that feed a few times, trying to spot any signs one way or another.
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ooc Tales From The FCPD: Dirty Money (OOC)
KnightDisciple replied to Brown Dynamite's topic in Archives
Going to use the cameras for a few things: 1.) Getting an idea of the patrol patterns of guards, as well as the positions of static guards. 2.) Getting an idea of possible hiding places along the way of sneaking about, and maybe something of an idea of the layout of the place. 3.) Seeing if he can spot a utility room or something. 4.) Seeing if he can determine if the girl in the bedroom is maybe a captive, a daughter, a mistress, or what. -
Toughness DC 25: 22. I'll take the bruise.
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Nevermore Initiative: 6.
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"Just throw it away into the water." Nevermore seemed utterly calm in the circle of criminals, with guns pointed at his personage. He was as still as a statue, barely even moving his lips, or so it seemed. His head barely moved as he tracked his vision over the thugs, his eerily glowing eyepieces seeming to unnerve some of them. Then his lips curled in a smile that didn't promise fun times, and he spoke suddenly and loudly. "Boo." And then suddenly bullets were going in random directions, because Nevermore simply wasn't there anymore. But what might seem superhuman at first was shown to be training and technology; he had ziplined without warning and caught one thug in passing with a single arm. The unconscious man sprawled out a couple feet outside of the now-broken circle. The other thugs stopped firing, one of them having been clipped by a bullet, and cast their gazes around wildly. "Ac-" And then there were only four conscious men standing there, and one unconscious man shoved up against one of the crates. In quick succession, two men were nabbed with high-strength tensile swing lines and hauled into the shadows, were muffled screams, the sound of breaking firearms, and sudden *thumps* left the last two men standing almost back-to-back, their weapons erratically swinging around to try and keep every angle covered. Every angle, except down, that is. So when an armored arm ripped up through some of the half-rotted floorboards to pull one of the men down below the raised floor of the storage area, it was a total surprise to both of them. A single shot went off from that man's gun before it was silent for a few moments. The final gang member was trembling as he backed up slowly, trying to make his way to the door and leave the heroes to be killed by the bomb. But he kept running into this oddly-shaped wall. "Who put a wall here?" When he turned around his eyes widened in terror as he saw Nevermore calmly standing there. The young vigilante didn't give the man a chance to do anything more as he swatted the gun from his hands and tackled him to the ground. It wasn't a good night for the gang.
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Tagging nonetheless.
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"It's good to see you again, Missus Cline." He finishes closing the door, unstealthily this time, and moves into the room, stopping a couple feet away and giving her a slight bow. It seems a move he settles on after a bit of hesitation, perhaps unsure of how to actually greet her beyond "hello". He gives a slight smile as he continues. "Thank you for remembering my...sensitivity, but you can call me Aleksander. Or even just Alek." He looks around the room a bit, seeming to almost get lost in memory. "This room used to be bigger. Toys aren't as exciting now, either."
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Paige had been in the room perhaps a couple of minutes when the hinges on the door squeaked for a second. The sound pauses, and it only takes her turning around to see that Aleksander Nakani is standing there, looking a bit awkward in his cargo pants and polo shirt. He has the good graces to look a bit ashamed of sneaking into the counseling session. "...Habit. Sorry." Paige wouldn't need her psychic senses to know he seems off-balance a bit. Not angry, per se, but not in a great mood. Then again, talking about feelings and moods is why he was there that day.
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The one with Hologram. I feel like I can milk it more at the moment.
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I just had an idea: what about Nevermore and Hologram? Specifically, what if she was one of the psychics the Freedom League brought in a few years ago to help de-program him and help him transition back to being Aleksander instead of Svarog? We could do a talky-style thread where she's just having a routine checkup with him. Could be a chance to let him be a bit more vulnerable; she's a "mom figure", but not part of his daily life, so he might feel like he can talk to her without it "ruining his image" or whatnot. Having Nevermore and Wander meet on a patrol could be fun, since he's already done some training with Midnight, who probably told Wander at least the basics about the "new kid".
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Nevermore stands there, confusion evident about his person despite showing no outward emotion or really moving much beyond tracking Endeavor or observing the remaining students. Finally he spoke up, his voice a bit softer than a few moments ago. "Wasn't trying to start a fight, not angry or hostile. Just trying to present options for tactical scenarios. Trying to present counter-point, encourage debate and discussion." He sounds almost like a mix of sad and frustrated. He uncrossed his arms and shrugged his shoulder in a particular way that let his cloak fall about his person, until the only part not covered was his head, and a small bit of the sole of his boots. It looked like a gesture meant to evoke an air of mystery. Or he just felt more comfortable that way. "Not my fault, or Claremont's fault, or fault of "full heroes" what decisions her parents make. We aren't adults yet, though. We have to accept that. But...no, nevermind. That's off track." He turned to Samaratin, regarding him curiously. "You don't think it's valuable to train on teamwork, learning how to adapt to the capabilities of your fellow heroes on the fly? Or be exposed to simulations of unusual scenarios? Doubt you got much experience on the streets that prepared you for our trip in Brazil. But simulator and supplemental training might. I had trouble because I hadn't trained enough. You're strong, and you're good at what you're doing right now. But what if things change and get worse out there? What if you run into something bigger than what you've faced? Training can help prepare you for that. Besides, try not to speak in absolutes about how ready you are. Life has a funny way of shaking things up."
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When one of the drones tried to stab him and only barely failed, Gabriel spoke a couple of words that, moments later, left him glad he had not stayed on the PA system and was not otherwise broadcasting his voice. Stesha, at least, would have given him such a talking about using that kind of language, while Tiamat and Frost would probably approve, which really wasn't much better. Such were the idle thoughts of a hero locked in mortal combat with alien horrors from the dark places of the universe. Years of experience, not to mention his more basic instincts, told him to get some distance between himself and the drones. His spear was decent for dealing with one or two, but with three more bearing down on him, it seemed prudent to open up the range a bit. Gabriel floated back a few yards, giving himself enough distance to, hopefully, get some breathing room, but not so far his aim was impaired. Then he leveled his spear at one drone, and his palm at another, and loosed twin blasts of sonic energy at them. The staccato bursts of force raced forward, but the strain of putting out that much energy at once, combined with the surge of adrenaline from almost getting disemboweled (again), meant that his aim was not as true as he would have liked.
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Right, my apologies, somehow my brain said I'd posted here, but I hadn't. Free Action: Switch Array to Blast power. Move Action: Get a bit of distance. Like, 10-20 feet kind of thing, I guess? Free Action: Power Attack for 5. Standard Action: Ranged Attack: 13. What is this I do not even...HP Reroll: 24. Base Toughness Save DC of 32, plus any Autofire. This is versus the Antibody on the right, let's say. Free Action: Surge for another Standard Action! Standard Action: Ranged Attack: 14. Ugh. So, yeah, a miss. Boo. If it hits somehow then hit the middle one, I guess; walking his fire and all that.
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In the midst of the others gathering themselves for an even larger attack, Sun Walker simply continued to rain down blows on the Anti-Hydra. That moment of shining luck and favor that helped him place his blows in just the right place had passed, but skill, the thrill of a real battle, and his demigod muscles were still carrying the day. His motions were smooth and calm, but in the midst of that orderly progression of blows, the already-wild hair on top of his head was flying about wildly, and his face was now bearing a slight grin. His blows still had some effect, it seemed. But while part of him wanted to just keep pummeling away, he recognized two important facts. First, if the creature suddenly lost its animating force, he was in a prime position to get crushed under its bulk. And second, perhaps more importantly, Arrowhawk had just mentioned firing an explosive of some sort at the base of its necks, which is where he was. So after delivering a few more powerful blows, Walker blurred away from the creature in a burst of speed, skidding to a halt on the sand next to the ill-tempered archer. He stayed in that slight crouch, almost like the stance of a runner ready to start his race, as his tail wound itself at an angle across his torso, forming a sort of furry sash on his chest. "This foe is disagreeable about ceasing hostilities."
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It's been working so far, so... Free Action: Power Attack for 5. Standard Action: Melee Attack: 16. If that hits, then it's a DC 25 Toughness Save. If it doesn't hit... Hero Point Reroll: 21. Well if nothing else I know that would hit. So, again, DC 25 Toughness. Move Action: Get the heck away from there because explosions are coming.
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Nevermore sighed. "Isn't about "showing off". About tactics. Multiple scenarios. Adapting on the fly. Takes more work and thinking to adapt to surge in enemy numbers and then incorporate inbound friendly forces than to just start off with one giant group. And intentionally mixing groups gives us incentive to actively observe and learn what our fellow classmates can do, especially given a scenario with more limited numbers." He took another half-step forward, asserting himself a bit more. "The adult heroes kept us out of the fight because we weren't ready for the scope that conflict took. I do not have the training or equipment yet, and I would have been more of a hindrance than a help. The Boss made that clear to me, and I managed to shove my ego aside to understand it."
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Almost as soon as the plug is in place, Cobalt Templar is huge once more, using the same construct-body he had before. He easily ripped the needle from the ground wholesale, using some additional constructs to ensure it stayed in place. "Back in a flash." And then he was screaming through the air at top speed, pushing himself as hard as he could. Even with his impressive strength, dragging that giant needle meant it wasn't easy. Still, he was a veteran of war, and a member of the Liberty League; he said he could do this, so he would! But even with that determination it took him a couple of minutes to achieve orbit, even low orbit. At which point he saw how bad things were getting in space. But, knowing the danger of the payload he carried, he grit his teeth and started moving faster than light itself as he beat a path directly for the Sun. His plan was to get about halfway there, then throw the needle right at the Sun as hard as he could, slowing down just enough to not risk any issues with near-light-speed momentum or the like. He just had to hope the needle, and Edge's plug, would hold that long; the last thing they needed was these bugs turning Venus into a death-sphere-station-ship-thing.
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Super delayed response, but... Grapple Check: 30. He goes nowhere.
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Nevermore tilted his cowled head a bit when Glamazon pointed to him; had his mask not had lenses that concealed his eyes, those observing him might have noticed him giving a few owlish blinks at the gesture, not to mention the shift in conversation. He took a step forward, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "Thought we were supposed to fight crime, not each other." He was attempting to use humor to defuse things, though at this rate "attempt" would be the best word for sure. He lowered his hands, looking at the numbers they had so far. "Assuming we can anticipate most of our fellow teammates showing up, best idea seems to be to concoct a scenario that uses numbers to advantage." He paused, apparently to let that sink in, before continuing. "Perhaps some of us start scenario on the scene of a super-fight. Situation escalates, the rest of us function as reserves, backup, to help relieve pressure on forces in the field, turn tide. Dramatic, gives us a chance to test skills and powers under tension, and we can switch off who is on what team to help train for both scenarios. Can either do this as existing teams, or mix things up."
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Aleksander had spent the whole flight trying, and failing, to not look a bit uncomfortable. While he never "dressed down" like some of his peers, the youth more often opted for robust cargo-style pants and rugged long-sleeved shirts. For such an august occasion as a mission to Dakana for the very King of that nation, the young Nakani boy was dressed in the finest possible clothing, which considering the resources available to him, was pretty fine. On the flight over he had been wearing stylish slacks and a crisp Oxford shirt, a tasteful but understated outfit. Somewhere between "landing" and "standing in the lobby", he had, some how, some way, slipped away from the others, and returned even more dressed-up. Instead of just slacks and a shirt, he was now dressed in an impeccable suit; the jacket and pants were black, the shirt was a crisp light grey, and the tie was an interesting, metallic shade of black, giving him a very understated sense of "flair". Somehow, the antique wristwatch that should have been out of place was instead the perfect accent piece. The young crime-fighter was also sporting stylish wrap-around sunglasses, probably to help deal with the bright sun outside of the building. He had a single large suitcase that must have some sort of integrated garment bag, a sturdy duffel bag slung over one shoulder, and, for some reason, a slick briefcase held in one hand. His other hand reached up and tweaked his sunglasses a bit as he cast his gaze around the lobby. "Flight went well." Such incredible skills at small talk, that one.
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Also if he passes my Toughness save, I will spend the HP to make him reroll.
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Seeing the effects their combined blows had on the great beast actually gave Sun Walker a burst of hope. Yes, their foe was dire and terrible, but he was by no stretch invincible. Just the opposite; they were wounding him, breaking down his stolen and hijacked flesh and metal, slowly but surely. It wasn't a question of "could they beat him", it was only "could they beat him fast enough they would not all be left broken before it was done". His shoulders squared a bit more as that thought flashed through his mind. He eyed up the creature, and then once more, he moved, quicker than any man had a right to move. But perhaps not faster than a monkey... And then he was there, not at the head of the beast, but right where the necks all met. His ancestor must have been inspiring his strikes, because his blows landed with supernatural precision and power, and were all aimed at the bases of the three necks. Punches, kicks, elbows, knees, a headbutt, and even a couple of strikes with his deceptively strong tail, all of them landed in a staccato burst that cracked and broke metal and bone alike.
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Sun Walker thinks this "kicking it in the head" business is extremely successful. So he's going to keep doing that. Free Action: Power Attack for 5. Standard Action: Melee Attack: 29. Which is a Critical Hit! I'd like that all into Damage, for a total Toughness Save DC of 30
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Gabriel blinks, sighs, and then rubs the bridge of his nose as he mutters, mostly to himself. "I hate time travel." He spoke louder now, addressing Warlock. "It sounds like all of you are doing a fine job defending this place. The, ah, transition was a bit startling for us, but we're glad things are better, not worse. So from the sound of things, the two of them got back safely, but aren't going to be able to return here and go back with us? If that's the case, help getting us home would be good. I can move myself back to where we need to go, but I don't really have the "oomph" to move everyone else back."