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  #76  
Unread 3rd of September, 2004, 01:01
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Osprey

Holy CRAP. "Ummm...what do you mean, exactly?" he returns, trying hard to ignore the fact that he's wearing nearly skintight black leather and a mask. "I, uh, well, see, this is certainly news to me. Nobody's ever, I haven't, who, well, what do you mean, exactly?"
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Unread 3rd of September, 2004, 04:23
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Bolt

"How slightly questionable are we talking about Trisha?" Ryan asks her as he watches her pace around the room. "She seems so into this, like it just doesn't matter whether we are wanted felons. She is so... alive." He thinks to himself.

Her comment about his 'episode' causes Ryan to look at the floor as he blushes from embarrassment but a rumble from his stomache tells him that eating is a good idea, getting up from the bed he will sit himself down at the table. "You should eat something as well. We could wait until around five, that way it will be pretty busy and hopefully less chance of us getting spotted."

Ryan thinks about her last question, slowly eating some of the food. "Osprey and the Mechanic seemed open minded," he says between bites. "I would think that they would at least consider what we had to say. Wreck on the other hand was in it for the money, give him enough cash and he will do anything." He says with a snort of disgust. "Quantum is the key, if we could talk to him we could get a lot of the answers we need." Ryan pauses for a moment. "There is a good chance that they will be sent out to look for us, we could get lucky and get one of them alone. Hopefully it won't come down to actual fighting."

"Trisha," he says softly, "what if we are wrong and there is no facility and the B-team is just that, a back up team. What are we going to do then?"
  #78  
Unread 3rd of September, 2004, 14:07
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The Mechanic
"It's due in large part to a good group of friends, associates and employees. While I've managed to hold my own in the buisness arena, the one thing I've learned is that it's best to have folks who specialize. So I have buisness managers and a top noch staff helping me, while letting me work out new ideas and test them for our company. I do take time to do the actual corporate work... but for that actually takes up a very small portion of my day."
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  #79  
Unread 5th of September, 2004, 09:02
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Wreck

The No Fronts? Aw, hell. Shoulda known some jerk would ask that fecking question.

It's true, they had rejected him and it's never sat well with Wreck. Amoral mercenaries have certain requirements, certain characteristics they look for in prospective applicants, and Wreck just didn't pass the test. He'd figured he had everything they wanted: muscles, a desire for money, and a certain moral flexibility not normall displayed in people. But he learned that they needed more in a member; they needed someone who could cook.

His mouth had almost dropped open and he'd nearly done a comic double-take when he'd learned their only opening was for a field chef. Oh, they said they'd call him if anything else opened but of course he never heard back. Stupid mercenaries. Besides, Wreck's cooking is as deadly, if not moreso, than his fists. Maybe he should've taken it after all.

The reporter waits in the uncomfortable silence, and looks like he's trying to decide whether or not the question should be repeated. Wreck resists the urge to make an obscene gesture or to throw something heavy at the man. Instead, he tries to answer as diplomatically as possible.

"Uh, me and them had some," he says, leaning forward, "um, differences. Didn't work out...oh, but I'm glad I'm with these Centurian guys. Yeah."

Wreck smiles, looking pleased with his response. There weren't any punches thrown; he's making progress.
  #80  
Unread 8th of September, 2004, 14:17
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Bolt

"How slightly questionable are we talking about Trisha?"
She swiftly sits down opposite you, her chin resting in her hand and giving you a crooked smile. "Nothing too serious. Nothing the God of Journalistic Ethics wouldn't let you into Heaven for. A few small bribes, some unauthorised fille-accesses."

"Trisha," he says softly, "what if we are wrong and there is no facility and the B-team is just that, a back up team. What are we going to do then?"
"Then?" For almsot the first time, she looks uncertain. "I... I don't know. But I wouldn't have come so far if I wasn't certain that something is very, very not-kosher in that place."

She digests your thoughts on the other Centinels... the Centinels, you add ruefully to yourself. If there's one thing you can be sure of in all this, it's that you're a persona non grata on the team. "Do you want to try and contact them before we head to the sation at rush hour? There was a press conference not long ago, while you were out... I suppose we could have tried to get them there, but there was some... trouble."
  #81  
Unread 8th of September, 2004, 16:10
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Centinel Building, New York City.
Some Trouble.
2:14 pm, January 16th 2010.


For several minutes, you parry the harder questions, answering those you can, avoiding those you can't. Luckily, Stone and a couple of PR-bodies turn up quickly to help keep things on track. Your side of the warehouse-fight comes out pretty good, if rather well tweaked; still no mention of Bolt or Actinic, but the seizure of illegal arms and the capture of Jerry O'Malley are gone over many times, as if repetition can drum them in to the public's mind. The more flippant and embarrassing questions are brushed aside, although -

"Yeah, I gots me a quest-chun!"

The bottle arcs through the air towards Quantum. Instinct takes over and he leaps back, a bubble of distorted reality erupting over his head like a shield. In slow motion, the bottle hits it and shatters, spraying flammable accelerant over the assembled heroes. A simple piezoelectric switch flicks, creating a spark...

Osprey

The smell of the chemicals washes over you as you back-flip away from the others, your muscles enacting reflexes forced into them by long, hard training. You see Stone herding the PR staff away; it looks like they weren’t under the molotov cocktail when it shattered.

The Mechanic

It’s not the first time you’ve lost your eyebrows.

Not too much of the chemical got on you (sniff, sniff... petrol, a dash of cyclohexane and a dollop of phosphorous - cheap, dirty, nasty, sticky and hot, the kind of recipe any kid can get off the Net, but the ingredients are relatively hard to come by), but the heat and flames gush up into your face before you can turn on your forcefield, and you feel your skin turn raw and red as the heat smashes you, turning your eyes into soot-blackened agony.

Quantum

Trying to keep a load of burning liquid from raining down on you with a spatial-distortion field is like trying to stick the proverbial diarrhea to the wall with a stapler. It slips between the gaps in your ability and splashes down on you, but that’s not the worst part - the boom of ignition above your head hits you like a stick on a drum, making your whole body spasm in sympathy, resonating. You fall to your knees, giddy, almost insensible as fiery raindrops burst around you. Miraculously, you escape without serious burns.

Wreck

It was going so well, dammit. Being coated in home-brew napalm feels kinda like washing a paper cut in vinegar - ouch, goddammit.

You look down at yourself as the burning chemical sprays over you from Quantum’s distortion field. The heat feels like pinpricks burrowing into your skin, and this suit’s never gonna be the same again - luckily, your longjohns are made of some flameproof, stretchy, friction-resistant supermaterial to withstand the kind of speeds and force you exert in day-to-day life.

You’re on fire.

Brother Herrick

Tall and thin but wiry and muscled, a shaven-headed man elbows his way through the crowd as a number of goons shove bystanders aside. Waves of panic are spreading through the civilians as they crawl over themselves to get away, and some of the more ballsy reporters shout into mikes while their cameramen strive to catch the action.

Along with a variety of hoods, hockey- and domino-masks, the thugs wear white vests over various bulletproof vests, flack jackets and makeshift suits of armour - a footballer’s shoulder pads here, Ned Kelly style plate mail there - all with a symbol depicting a clenched fist with a double-helix of ‘pure’ DNA over it. The Brotherhood of Human Purity - urban terrorists with a manic phobia of Altereds, Novas and any technology they can’t understand.

There are six men, armed with DP-9s and cut down AK-47s. Two others flank the tall man and look like lieutenants, one carrying an M-4 carbine, the other a bandoleer of grenades and a sling to throw them with. The squat man with the leather sling grins as he loads another firebomb into it, beginning to swing it. The taller man, evidently the leader, steps forward, cradling a massive .50 Cal anti-tank rifle against his chest. He raises his voice:

“I’m Brother Herrick... and you God-Damned freaks can get the hell out of this city!”


Osprey: 20
The Mechanic: 17 [lethal hit x1]
Quantum: 16 [stunned for 1 round]
BHP Leaders [2]: 13
BHP Lone Wolves [6]: 12
Brother Herrick: 8
Wreck: 7
  #82  
Unread 9th of September, 2004, 02:16
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Bolt

Originally Posted by Dirigible She swiftly sits down opposite you, her chin resting in her hand and giving you a crooked smile. "Nothing too serious. Nothing the God of Journalistic Ethics wouldn't let you into Heaven for. A few small bribes, some unauthorised fille-accesses."
For a moment Ryan says nothing, he then sighs and shakes his head slightly. "How can she be so cavalier about this?" He thinks to himself. "Your probably going to be the death of me, but in for a penny in for a pound as they say." He tells her a small smile on his face, if nothing else her enthusiasm was infectious.

Originally Posted by Dirigible "Do you want to try and contact them before we head to the sation at rush hour? There was a press conference not long ago, while you were out... I suppose we could have tried to get them there, but there was some... trouble."
"Maybe we should try and contact them, I still have that untraceable phone and the communications device, although they more then likely monitoring that pretty close. So if we go that route I don't think we should try it from her... wait, trouble? What trouble?"
  #83  
Unread 9th of September, 2004, 08:10
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Bolt

"It was on TV not long ago. The Brotherhood of Human Purity tried to bust up the conference... things got kind of hectic, so I'm not entirely sure what happened."There's a note of whist in her voice, as if she wished she'd been there.
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Unread 10th of September, 2004, 08:55
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Wreck

Sometimes life just isn't fair and then there's today. No wonder he never gets invited to press conferences, some freak always ends up trying to send everyone home in flames. Being torched is a pain in the ass, and back, and neck, and arms, and face, and generally anywhere else involving flesh. He isn't even sure how the others are still living. Maybe this new geek has some skill.

The prick who started this mess announces himself and Wreck has difficulty biting back his laughter. It's so difficult that he only makes a token gesture at respect before laughing, and cringing when realizing that he's still, in fact, on fire. Something needs to be done about this punk and since this fire isn't killing him, Wreck summons up his eloquence once more as he charges the Brotherhood leader.

"Dumbass!"
  #85  
Unread 11th of September, 2004, 01:08
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Osprey

'Well, I suppose it was just a matter of time...' Rob takes a moment to size up the BHP goons: the guy packing the state-of-the-art-bang-bang assault cannon is probably gunning for Wreck, and may even pose a threat to the big lug. Meanwhile, there are 8 other heavily armed maniacs gunning for himself and his teammates. Never mind the fact that he'd only just barely field-tested the new threads and sticks, and all this in broad daylight...feh. 'You did say you wanted to play in the big leagues, right?'

Rob arcs up and forward, pulling two shuriken from the flat pouches on his belt. He figured he could best protect Mechanic and Quantum by eliminating threats to them, and if he knew anything about Wreck the big fella'd be mixing it up with whoever was out front. He could at least handle the light work...

OOC: Multifiring two shuriken, attack bonus is +6 (Aerial Combat), damage +5L. If he can Spot goons drawing a bead on Mechanic or Quantum, they are the primary target. Staying with one goon unless he goes down with the first throw.

Last edited by GusPorterhouse; 13th of September, 2004 at 00:47.
  #86  
Unread 15th of September, 2004, 02:51
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Bolt

Originally Posted by Dirigible "It was on TV not long ago. The Brotherhood of Human Purity tried to bust up the conference... things got kind of hectic, so I'm not entirely sure what happened."There's a note of whist in her voice, as if she wished she'd been there.
"Do you know if anyone seriously hurt?" Ryan asks her, concern for the reporters and innocent people that were gathered there was easily readable.

Ryan pauses as he thinks a moment. "Damnit, I should have been there helping instead of lying here doing my best impersonation of a carrot." He grumbles as he pushes away the food in front of him, his appeitite lost.
  #87  
Unread 15th of September, 2004, 03:59
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Bolt

"I wouldn't be surprised, they way your team.... form... team-mates fight, I'd be surprised if someone wasn't." She smiles to take the sting out of the words. It works surprisingly well.

She glances down at the half-empty cardboard box you shove away from yourself. "Are you going to try and contact them? Or do we wait?"
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Unread 15th of September, 2004, 06:16
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Bolt

Ryan starts to say a harsh reply but Trisha's smile cuts it off before it starts, he gives her a thin smile in return. "Yea, I guess your right. We weren't exactly subtle."

Originally Posted by Dirigible She glances down at the half-empty cardboard box you shove away from yourself. "Are you going to try and contact them? Or do we wait?"
"No, I don't think we should contact them right now. The brotherhood might have done us a favor, the cops and the foundation should be more concerned about them then us and out of sight out of mind seems pretty good right now. So if we wait about an hour before leaving," Ryan says glancing at the clock on the wall, "it should be easier to get through Grand Central Station. Once we are underground and moving we can try and contact them. What do you think?"
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Unread 20th of September, 2004, 14:02
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The Mechanic
Owowowoowowowowoow!!!! SON of a B!&CH!!he thinks as the molotov burns him. Followed briefly by it's reiteration out loud. Shortly therafter by the dangerous weight of his guns filling both hands and leveling at the bomb thrower....
Followed by two very dangerous words. "High Caliber."

Mechanical safteylocks switch off of the pair of pistols a split second before potentially deadly bullets rush towards the fanatical cultist.
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Unread 22nd of September, 2004, 01:25
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Quantum

Quantum looks up at the dripping mass of liquid. Most of it slides off the surface of his distortion field, but some of it manages to slip through the threshold, forming drops of white-hot oil that rain down on him. Briefly, one drop seems to hang suspended in midair, heat and light radiating from it like a beacon.

Unable to move, lying on the floor, Quantum was helpless to stop the bead of napalm from landing in the center of his forehead. Even the pain of the drop burning into his skin did little to ease his disorientation.

Feels like I'm on the receiving end of a jackhammer. What the hell happened?

He tries to regain his feet, only to discover that his legs are otherwise occupied, too busy twitching to be bothered with something like holding his weight. The best he can manage is sitting up, and that only makes his head spin even more.

For just a moment, he starts to wonder if he ever really made it out of that janitor's closet, and is only now realizing it.
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