Search the Community

March 7, 2015 WYRM's move to the DeWitt Building had gone well. The new suburban location put the kids in a safe, secure location where they wouldn't be tempted by anything unwholesome in the neighborhood. The nearest restaurant was the Subway across the street, next to the big medical complex, and they were a good twenty-minute walk from the nearest bus station (faster if you had superpowers, of course). The worst trouble they could get into was the tobacco store in the strip mall down at the very end of the street, right where Ashton became unincorporated territory. But the kids were well-supervised - and the old hippie who ran the place knew to keep an eye out for them. WYRM had stayed busy over the last few months, pitching in to help out during the Communion invasion and other crises around Freedom City, doing the subtle work that made sure many of the civilians around the city noticed them and their good efforts, even if they still weren't on the radar of most super-teams yet. "That's okay," the kids were always reassured, "we're doing this work to set the world up for great things - not to make ourselves famous." It was a little frustrating the more glory-minded among them, but they all knew they had bright futures ahead of them. On the morning of March 7, Rampart was out patrolling in the area when the special WYRM communicator they'd given her during her last happy visit chimed. Something was going on that required her special services.

WYRM HQ, Midtown July 6th The World Youth Rescue Movement's HQ didn't really have a high tech training room unlike Claremont. It was noticeably simpler and more bare-bone. Still, it was better than nothing and it got the job done, allowing Cho and the others to train. Currently Cho was under much stress, having to fend off attack after attack from multiple angles. The teenager crossed her arms over her face as a jet of hot flames erupted. She barely had the time to recover from that when a black blurr began assailing her with sharp claws. With only a brief moment to strike, Cho landed a punch on the second assailant, sending it flying, only to leave herself exposed to another jet of flame. -- As Cho was currently sparring with Magmatic and Racer Konchu, on the other side of the reinforced glass, Saboteur and Brainclay observed. "She wasn't kidding when she asked if this was simply a question of filling some gap in the team's abilities." Saboteur commented. "She's actually managing to hold her own against both Magmatic and Racer. ' 'Holding her own' is somewhat innacurate. She is clearly overall weaker than the two of them at once. This is hardly what I would call a fair fight. Not to mention she is very close to collapsing. Her endurance and resillence are formidable but not enough in this situation.' The telepath 'replied', still blankly staring ahead, not even making eye contact with his interlocutor. There wasn't a single hint of facial expression from the adrogynous alien. Continuing to observe the sparring match, which was less and less in Cho's favor as she kept being wailed on non stop by the other two, Saboteur added: "Still, the initial reports and assesments prove to be entirely accurate. Her abilities are quite impressive. I wouldn't say they are anything legendary, there have been plenty of individual with powers of this kind across superpowered history, but she's still something. Especially since she's clearly untrained and tapping into a mere fragment of her powers." 'Mental blocks are apparently quite common for individuals of this kind. Their feeble, simplistic terran minds are unable to rationalize the amount of power they posses. Their emotions, especially fear and doubt cloud their mind and install blocks. These blocks are what prevent them from fully accessing their full capabilities. A similar phenomena exist within telepaths.' "Yes what about her history and the psychological profile?" Saboteur was suddenly reminded, having asked Brainclay to review it. 'Subject is of mixed ancestry. Biological progenitor unit you call a father was apparently what you would called korean-japanese. It appears that the bequeating a japanese name to the child would be strange, but that is the only apparently unusual detail to her history beyond her unusual ancestry. Said father was killed in a random act of violence, which may act as a potential motivator for fighting what she may consider 'evil'. Otherwise her famillial history is completely and utterly mundane and insignificant. As for Cho, she appears to be rather mundane herself.' Coldly stated the alien. "Define mundane, will you?" He asked back to the alien. The telepath continued to coldly state everything, still not making any eye contact: 'She is not particularly notable. She does not stand out from the crowd of countless other humans of her age range and gender. The subject has her own unique...quirks...but those are nothing out of the ordinary. Her most notable trait is that she is actually quite the underachiever; it is this very trait which prevents her standing out from the rest as she is remarkably lazy and unwilling to develop any talent she might naturally posess.' "If you ask me she seems rather determined so that IS something. Still, I guess that was part of the whole idea, getting someone that is...ah, I suppose 'normal' is the right term." Said Saboteur, continuing his analytical observation of Cho's fight, down to her fighting style. Or rather lack of fighting style, as the case was. It was only at Claremont that she ever received any amount of what might be called training. Mostly it was just her flailling until she hit something. "Her balance and reflexes are good, but hardly good enough to suffice in a fight like this. She's poor at guarding her sides and..." He muttered to himself, analyzing the battle. 'I would hardly defined someone so infused with entropy as 'normal'. Such being is an anomaly. It is, therefore, anormal.' The telepath added, as it walked out of the observation room. -- "Okay, phew whew okay...yeah...j-just a minute." Cho garbled out, collapsing from the repeated blows from Magmatic and Racer Konchu. She had done everything to hold her own against the two in a brawl but raw determination wasn't enough to keep her ticking and fighting forever. Grunting, the teenager tried to get back on her leg after receiving blows that would have broken an ordinary human in half. "I-I think we're good for today. I hope you guys got, well, whatever information you wanted out of that." "Oh I'm sure Miles got what he wanted out of this Choey! He's good at picking up other's weakness. Here, take my hand I'll get you up!" Said the energetic magmin, offering a large, thick hand made of hardened crystals to her sparring partner.

GM J.P. Morgan & Chase Bank, Mcullough-Adams, Bayview, Freedom City July 2nd, Wednesday, 2.45 PM, 2014 The day had begun like most others on a summer day on the American east coast. For Freedom City it had been even more mundane than usual, everything that made the city such a dazzling gem of multi-faceted weirdness lying low as the sun beat down. As the day had veered into afternoon, hopes had slowly strengthened that maybe today, today nothing would happen. The bank tellers at Bayview's biggest Chase branch had begun to relax, smiling in relief as the hours ticked down to closing. They were cheerfully helping the last trickles of patrons before the big late-afternoon rush, chatting idly with each other when the burning men crashed through the roof, landing on the floor in a stream of flaming wreckage. One, covered in something like an astronaut's ">suit but red and emblazoned with a yellow lizard on the shoulders and chest, pointed a square black thing vaguely shaped like a gun at the tellers. "Out." his voice was soft as it crackled over a radio, but icily compelling "Now." "You heard him, gents!" sang out another of the gang, similarly-suited but weaponless save for a flickering heatwave around her "That insurance money won't steal itself! And we don't wanna hurt you, but-" a wave of heat slammed into one of the steel walls as she gestured carelessly with a hand, melting a hole clean through it "-we sure won't cry if we have to!" The other two were silent, the stocky one in a black suit opening their helmet to release a cloud of smoke that drifted up to the ceiling, starting the fire alarms' screaming wail. The last, a spindly figure in vivid yellow, snapped their fingers. To the terrified eyes of the tellers, guards, and patrons, flames seemed to leap from the floor, heading straight for them! From outside things weren't much better. A comet seemed to flash out of the sky and hit the bank, the fire alarms went off and the people inside came charging out, screaming and frantically beating at themselves. It was the kind of sight that made every nearby Freedonian look reflexively up at the sky, and wonder why, just why it always happened here...

OOC thread, for resolutions and discussion, this thread. Playing with fire, playing with lives.