Omega Base: Plainsong

Edison · Post by **Edison** » Sun Oct 06, 2024 6:11 pm

Perception: 1d100: [2] = 2 /56%
Just in Case: 1d20: [6] = 6 ; 1d100: [64] = 64
Conditions: None.

When the officers come for the evidence, the tinkerer pauses. "I'd like to look it over before handing it in as evidence if possible?" Edison says to the officer, knowing full well the request is irregular and maybe slightly against protocol.

Edison then looks at the peddle Pub and sighs. It wasn't even really my fault this time. Edison thinks as he secures his gear and finds a seat. "Mount up Omega's looks like we're peddling our way home." Edison says as he waits for the others to do the same. Of course Lennok flew off... he's something else. Edison thinks.

Once the vehicle is in motion, Edison speaks up once more. "Good job keeping collateral to a minimum. Good job catching everyone without casualties, and good job getting the civilians out safely." Edison says, not really having anything else to say on the subject.

A few hours of repairs. That's all this trip cost me, not too bad. Edison thinks with a smile behind his helmet.

Maia · Post by **Maia** » Tue Oct 08, 2024 10:45 am

JIC: 1d20: [5] = 5 , 1d100: [85] = 85
PER: 1d100: [94] = 94 vs. 76%

Conditions: ,

Oblivious or uncaring for all the humans talking around her, Maia heads to the closest patch of grass and plops herself on the ground, eager to feel the natural earth beneath her again. As she gets bored she’ll periodically pop her head up and examine the humans around her- taking care to maintain her aura of humility so that they’ll leave her alone. Breaking the infestation will require eliminating these disaster responders. She’ll continue studying their movements and any patterns in them, to get a sense of how the humans handle these things and compare them to the insect colonies and animal packs with which she is more familiar. Few answers reveal themselves, and when a replacement vehicle arrives for the Omegas Maia will proceed towards it eagerly. She is at first confused by its appearance- very different from the hovertrucks to which she has become accustomed- but once the pedals are pointed out to her she nods her acceptance. She will take any seat that can accommodate her- which may not be possible on the contraption, but if no-one stops her she might easily break it under the weight of her body. If it does support her, she will awkwardly place her feet on the pedals (and probably push hard enough to get the entire team home in record time). If the new vehicle won’t work with her body, Maia will sigh and dissolve into her ethereal form, to float along behind the others. Either way, she will convey her eagerness to leave with a simple ”WE. GO.”

Shazbut · Post by **Shazbut** » Wed Oct 09, 2024 7:55 pm

JIC: 1d20: [15] = 15 , 1d100: [39] = 39
Perception: 70% / 1d100: [56] = 56 (SUCCESS)

Shazbut's eyes widen in disbelief as the man on the bicycle arrives. That is a cool hat! The sight seems straight out of a surreal comedy sketch, and the skunk wishes every day had moments like these. He chuckles delightedly.

"Why do we have hover trucks when we have these?!" he says, his voice sounding impressed.

As the heroes clamber onto the peddle car, Shazbut lingers behind, a skunky grin on his face.

"I haves my own ride!" He announces. With a swish of his fluffy tail, he activates his illusionary powers. A sleek, black muscle car appears out of thin air. A white skunk stripe runs along the center of the car's body, a touch of skunk for a skunky car!

"YES!" he exclaims, rubbing his hands together like a supervillain. "Time for a ride in the Skunkmobile!"

: Skunkmobile.png (383.09 KiB) Viewed 8639 times

The muscle car Shazbut conjures is a perfect fit for his four-foot frame, but for the other heroes, it would be intolerably cramped. With a dramatic flourish, Shazbut opens the illusionary door, hops in, and slams it shut. He keys the ignition and the muscle car roars into life. The sounds are illusionary, but augmented with Shazbut's own ability to warp sound and vocalise real engine sounds.

Vocalisation (Mimic Car sounds) 92%: 1d100: [66] = 66 (SUCCESS)

Naturally, an illusionary car cannot transport a real skunk, no matter how enthusiastic or deranged. But Shazbut has a skunky solution. Using his gravity wave powers, he focuses the energy inwards, creating a pocket of gravity that grants him , and he pantomimes the impression of sitting in a real driver's seat.

With a satisfied nod, Shazbut grips the imaginary steering wheel and presses down on the imaginary gas pedal. The illusionary car lurches forward, its engine roaring as it speeds through the city streets.

Sinner-G · Post by **Sinner-G** » Thu Oct 10, 2024 7:36 am

Perception (56%): 1d100: [16] = 16
JIC (d20/d%): 1d20: [9] = 9 / 1d100: [61] = 61

Gabriel chuckles at the "transport", but then thinks about it, "You know, for someone like me, a PPV might be a good idea. I mean, I am strong enough for a high gearing ration and my legs move fast enough that I could probably reach ninety or more miles an hour on a racing bike. I can keep it up for hours also."

He climbs on board, and will address Shazbut before he climbs into his "Skunkmobile", "I overheard your question earlier, and I have an answer for you. You see, there have been heroes for generations, but the people who write comics and movies can not use the REAL heroes in their stories because it would tell their enemies too much about them. How long could they protect their friends and families if every villain in the world knew who they all are? So the stories you read, while inspired by real heroes, are fiction told about what the authors dream the lives of the heroes could be like."

He thinks, *There is probably a lot of truth to what I just said. I mean, finding any real information about previous heroes is tough, but they did exist. There is enough evidence of that at least back a century. The story will probably make the Skunk Kid happy, even if it is not 100% accurate.*

Red Sable · Post by **Red Sable** » Thu Oct 10, 2024 10:05 am

Red Sable isn't sure what to make of the goofy transport. She assumes it is lost. Then she sees everyone else's reactions as they head toward it.

She wants to say, Are you freaking kidding me? That is a PR nightmare waiting to happen. Not to mention the security risk. I get why the motorpool guys might want to make a statement, but not at the cost of public humiliation. You can't be seriously considering....

And then Edison of all people just hops on like it is normal and expected.

She just stands there a few more beats, torn. Her microchip maps out the route back to HQ, noting she would get home by running long before this thing would get her there. But did she really want to do that? And would they think she's not part of the team if she didn't play along?

She blinks at Shaz and his magic car, really wishing she'd taken the hoverbike like she initially wanted to do before second-guessing herself. She'd have thought he'd be all over the idea of riding that thing. Then again he wouldn't be able to reach the pedals, so maybe that's all it was.

Sinner-G wrote: ↑Thu Oct 10, 2024 7:36 am "I overheard your question earlier, and I have an answer for you. You see, there have been heroes for generations, but the people who write comics and movies can not use the REAL heroes in their stories because it would tell their enemies too much about them. How long could they protect their friends and families if every villain in the world knew who they all are? So the stories you read, while inspired by real heroes, are fiction told about what the authors dream the lives of the heroes could be like."

He thinks, *There is probably a lot of truth to what I just said. I mean, finding any real information about previous heroes is tough, but they did exist. There is enough evidence of that at least back a century. The story will probably make the Skunk Kid happy, even if it is not 100% accurate.*

Gina regards the exchange with some bemusement. "Comic books are a tool of propaganda," she says as if it were common knowledge. "The CIA worked with magazine publishers in the mid 20th century to come up with a way to glorify supers. It was so the public would be more accepting of them."

Stifling a resigned sigh, she climbs aboard the silly tourist contraption.

Shazbut · Post by **Shazbut** » Fri Oct 11, 2024 3:01 pm

((Rolls carried))

Sinner-G wrote: ↑Thu Oct 10, 2024 7:36 am He climbs on board, and will address Shazbut before he climbs into his "Skunkmobile", "I overheard your question earlier, and I have an answer for you. You see, there have been heroes for generations, but the people who write comics and movies can not use the REAL heroes in their stories because it would tell their enemies too much about them. How long could they protect their friends and families if every villain in the world knew who they all are? So the stories you read, while inspired by real heroes, are fiction told about what the authors dream the lives of the heroes could be like."

Shazbut's eyes widen in disbelief as Sinner-G reveals what he believes to be the truth about comic book heroes. His heart sinks a little. This means that there will never be a Shazbut comic book! I'm real, so my story can no be in the pages of comics?

"But... but... that's not fair!" he exclaims, his voice filled with disappointment. "I'm a hero! Sort of. So I never get to be in a comic book?"

Red Sable wrote: ↑Thu Oct 10, 2024 10:05 am Gina regards the exchange with some bemusement. "Comic books are a tool of propaganda," she says as if it were common knowledge. "The CIA worked with magazine publishers in the mid 20th century to come up with a way to glorify supers. It was so the public would be more accepting of them."

Stifling a resigned sigh, she climbs aboard the silly tourist contraption.

"What?" he exclaims, his voice filled with amazement. "Comic books were created by the CIA?"

But then, a spark of creativity ignites within him. If comic books are the propaganda, then I can makes my own propaganda! Fun stuff with the heroes and the villains. I can show the world what the world should look like, a skunkier world. A world with more love. With music!

"Maybe I'll make my own comic book," Shazbut muses out loud, and his eyes sparkle with creativity. "The kind you can see on the webs! Everyone will sing, oh it will have the killer soundtrack, and lots of fun!" He imagines the pages filled with adventures.

With a calculating look, Shazbut turns to the peddle car. He has another idea. A skunky one.

"And besides," Shazbut smirks, his skunky mirth returning quickly. "I decide what's real and what's not."

With that, Shazbut conjures an illusion around the peddle car. He attempts to form an Omega truck outside the exterior of the pedal car, so that the outward appearances for the public, the Omegas would look like they are riding a regular hero truck as they always did. Only this truck wouldn't fly through the air; it has regular wheels and rolls along the road. The windows are likewise mirrored, preventing any from seeing inside.

"How is that buddies?" Shazbut asks. "You see ok?" He focuses his will, making sure they can see through the illusionary glass. If they cannot, he explains the nature of the truck. "This is just the trick, you still have the pedals, but you look better. Can you see ok now?" This may allow the heroes to see through the illusion, and be able to see where they are going.

If this proves to be impossible, Shazbut relents and lets the Omegas ride around without an illusionary truck cloaking them.

If this proves to be possible, illusionary Omega truck seems perfectly real, from its sleek design to its intricate details. As they ride/drive away, the public would see a familiar sight, a group of heroes on patrol in their signature vehicle. The skunk drives his Skunkmobile behind the truck, and maintains both the illusionary truck, and his own illusionary skunkmobile with his powers.

Powers:

Shazbut should be able to maintain 3 illusions simultaneously at level 6.
He can also split his mind with multitasking, allowing him to warp his sounds and vocalise should he need extra mindpower to pull this off convincingly.

Steiblah · Post by **Steiblah** » Fri Oct 11, 2024 3:36 pm

-----------------------------------
Perception: d%: [30] = 30 | 81%
JIC: 1d20: [17] = 17 | d%: [2] = 2
-----------------------------------

Conditions

That is a strange mode of transportation. Steiblah thinks as he looks at the multi-person pedal machine.

He gives the horse-sized ant a pat on the thorax. Percy... Is that a good name for you? Steve asks. Noting a slight twitch of one of the ant's antennae, the reformed Raksasha takes that as an affirmative and urges it forward to follow behind the pedal machine as they make their way back to Omega base.

Then a thought occurs to him and 'Good Guy Steiblah' offers, "If you wanted to relax a bit more on the trip back and avoid pedaling, I can either ask Percy to push the pedal machine or can magically adhere the machine to Percy's back and she can carry us all back together."

Regardless of what the decision is, Steve returns to Omega base with the team seemingly in a pensive mood. He isn't sure how to get to the root of a corrupt prison system. In all likelihood, it would require some extensive undercover work to infiltrate the system. But he isn't sure that such action will be determined to be worth the Omega's time. Steiblah looks forward to debriefing once they return to base.

Dawn Breaker · Post by **Dawn Breaker** » Sat Oct 12, 2024 12:32 pm

Perception: 1d100: [48] = 48 / 39%
JiC d20 | d100: 1d20: [17] = 17 | 1d100: [42] = 42

S-10 phone response wrote:her phone.The voice on the other side is cold and clipped: "Information received. We will see what we can do with this. Tell no one of this conversation."

Here is hoping we can score the workshop. they would be a great asset to black ops. It is unlikely they will be public heroes anytime soon. But with the proper incentive they could be black ops. the mutant thought as she closes

Captain Cole wrote:There's a loud sigh on the other side of the radio, then Cole replies, "Roger that. I'll take a look into it once the cleanup is done. I won't lie, this has been an ongoing problem in the prison system. I'll be glad to get rid of another crooked guard, but I'd rather find every single one of them."

After the message to S-10 she makes her way back, Just like I thought, heroes never consider just how hard it is weed out the corrupt. Still a noble effort. if they can make any head way. Looking at the 'transport' Well, not exactly standard issue is it? she thinks. It would seem that Chimera still needed to learn that items get destroyed and losses were in evitable. She would need to ask S-10 about speeding up her recovery of vehicle. perhaps a seized or vehicle they were going to get of was available.

"So Chimera has investment in the tourist industry in this city? that does not shock me. a good way to monitor the city's safe areas." she shrugs. perhaps I should buy into a taxi company or delivery service? hmmm she thought taking a seat.

This how they treat heroes and people who supposed be role models? an interesting approach. I should ask if S-10 has any seized super vehicles they plan on melting down. Maybe help the team out a little..

Tom Cassidy · Post by **Tom Cassidy** » Wed Oct 16, 2024 11:01 am

Perception: 1d100<69: [18*] = 1
JIC: 1d20: [13] = 13 / 1d100: [3] = 3

Conditions:
- Force Field SDC: 3,000/3,900
- Giant Force Construct Left Hand: 300/300 SDC, 70 minutes remaining
- Giant Force Construct Right Hand: 300/300 SDC, 70 minutes remaining
- Force Field Body Armor: 300/300 SDC, 43 minutes remaining

Trent wrote: ↑Fri Oct 04, 2024 8:01 pm"Wait... both hovertrucks? You guys treat those vehicles like my dad treats his squash rackets. Except hovertrucks are more expensive, and he earns more than the Omegas annual budget. Ok, I'll for a vehicle to get you back to the base."

"Well, for what it's worth it's not totally our fault this time..." Barricade quips back. "Boris ever spills the beans on who funded this little jailbreak attempt, you can send them the repair bill. Clearly they've got money to cover it."

Sinner-G wrote: ↑Fri Oct 04, 2024 12:05 pm"Actually, that is likely the problem here, those who created me want me properly under their control, and are likely to make things difficult. They are likely to claim I am a danger...not just because of what I can do, but because the stuff they used to create me was originally not under control. They may even try to claim me as being propitiatory technology. Joining you might be good for me, but it may be a lot of trouble for you. I think it only fair to give you warning. If you want me anyway, despite the headaches it may cause, I will be willing to join you."

In spite of Sinner-G's words of warning, Barricade chuckles softly. "Honestly, pal, I don't know of any recent additions to the team that don't come with their own unique set of headaches -- myself included." He clears his throat. "Seriously though... you'll want to talk that over with Carla and Trent. They're our legal team and you'd need to meet with them regardless. If there's a way to keep you out of being 'proprietary' they'll find it."

Captain Cole wrote: ↑Fri Oct 04, 2024 8:01 pm"Roger that. I'll take a look into it once the cleanup is done. I won't lie, this has been an ongoing problem in the prison system. I'll be glad to get rid of another crooked guard, but I'd rather find every single one of them."

"I hear ya," Barricade nods. "Best of luck with that."

CHIMERA wrote: ↑Fri Oct 04, 2024 8:01 pmBoris scowls at Barricade, recognizing him from when the Omegas first arrested him. He gets into line with the other prisoners hopping on the bus. The SWAT officers also accept Archimedes and Hairtrigger.

Although Barricade is smiling, his thoughts are anything but happy. Well, at least we've identified another person involved in that email. But something tells me we won't be seeing the last of either Boris or Archimedes. Or this 'Hairtrigger' guy either, for that matter.

CHIMERA wrote: ↑Fri Oct 04, 2024 8:01 pmAfter the prison buses leave, the Omegas
Pubcycle.jpg
arrives. A man wearing a bright red vest and wearing a straw pork pie hat pedals up in a bicycle with a table on its back. Each seat around the table has its own set of peddles.

"You gotta be kidding me, Holloway..." Barricade mutters under his breath. Note to self: talk Shaz into placing one of his turds in Trent's pillow. Soon.

Dawn Breaker wrote: ↑Sat Oct 12, 2024 12:32 pm"So Chimera has investment in the tourist industry in this city? that does not shock me. a good way to monitor the city's safe areas."

"More like a budget-conscious decision thanks to our hovertrucks being considered collateral damage..." Barricade mutters before turning his attention to the driver. "Tell you what, pal -- you steer, I'll push. We can at least spare some folks some pedal-power exertion."

He manifests a new, undamaged flight disc and takes up a position at the rear of the pubcycle. Gripping what looks to be the sturdiest parts of the vehicle with his giant energy hands, he grunts out "Alright, all aboard who's riding!" before putting things in motion.

Edison wrote: ↑Sun Oct 06, 2024 6:11 pm"Good job keeping collateral to a minimum. Good job catching everyone without casualties, and good job getting the civilians out safely."

"My thoughts exactly," Barricade nods. "They were loaded for bear and ready to do a LOT of collateral damage -- including people, clearly. I'm proud of you all."

I just hope none of the SLJ folks see this on the news feeds... he sighs to himself.

Post by **CHIMERA** » Wed Oct 16, 2024 6:26 pm

Act IV: Closedown
Omega Base, 616 Grayson Street, Retropolis
Date: Thursday, April 23rd, 2043
Time: 1:50 pm
Weather: Sunny afternoon (68 degrees Fahrenheit)

Butcher's Bill
Barricade: -71 S.D.C. to flying disc
Dawn Breaker: -5 S.D.C. Omega suit
Edison: - 60 S.D.C. to Mark II armor
Lenok: -100 S.D.C. Omega suit; -11 S.D.C.
Maia: -60 S.D.C.
Sinner-G: -5 S.D.C. superhero costume

Edison wrote:"I'd like to look it over before handing it in as evidence if possible?"

The SWAT officers collecting evidence look up at Edison. "Our orders are to register all the evidence found at the scene," one says. "Let me tag it and put in the system then you can put it in your..." The officer glances over to the two wrecked hovertrucks. "How about we have it shipped to the Omega Base after it's been registered at central."

Barricade wrote:"Well, for what it's worth it's not totally our fault this time."

"I appreciate that," Trent says. "Unfortunately, I still have to make do with the budget that we got."

Barricade wrote:"Boris ever spills the beans on who funded this little jailbreak attempt, you can send them the repair bill. Clearly they've got money to cover it."

"As a public defender, I used to fight vigorously against assets seizure," Trent replies drily, "but these guys made it personal. I'll start digging through their finances and see what I can find."

As shocking as the Omegas interim transportation might seem, some of the more senior members of the team are nonplussed. Century Station is a bizarre place, and fighting crime here exposes some of its even stranger corners. "Hello! I am Neville!" the bike's 'driver' announces. "My good friend Trent called me and asked for an urgent favor. I couldn't say no to helping Century Station's scrappiest heroes. Please, please, take a seat."

Neville explains the rules for riding the pubcycle, most of which are common sense things that most people (and some of the Omegas) would already know, and also offers to make anyone a refreshing mocktail. After all, what is a pubcycle without beverages? While the Omegas pedal, Neville will steer the vehicle from behind the bar. Percy's help will not be needed. Shazbut opts not to get on board, conjuring up his own ride, but he 'drives' alongside the Omegas, teasing them along the way.

With so many super-powered individuals, the pubcycle manages to make incredible time. Neville is enjoying himself; he has never gone so fast before. Still, the pubcycle does go by slow enough to be noticed by people on the street. Some take pictures of them with their phones, a few drivers honk their horns and cheer them for foiling a prison break. It's a not a bad thing to be recognized.

It doesn't take more than ten minutes to get back to the Omega Base. Carla and Trent are waiting at the entrance as the pubcycle pulls up. "Thanks for helping us in a pinch, Neville," Trent says.

"It was an honor," Neville replies with a tip of his hat. "I'll be happy to offer my services any time these heroes need them."

As Neville bikes away, Carla leads the team into the war room for a debriefing. "Good job, everyone. Thanks to your teamwork, you were able to minimize casualties and restore order to the scene fairly quickly."

"Unfortunately, Lenok did not feel the same way," Trent chimes in. "He returned ahead of you. We discussed his habit of going into a scene alone and without coordinating with the squad leader. After an exchange of opinions, we agreed that to part ways. I believe he is going to search for his children in the dragon enclaves in North America."

"But it looks like we have a new addition to the team," Carla says looking over to Sinner-G. "Who are you?" After Sinner introduces himself, Carla gives him a quick introduction to the Omegas and their mission. She highlights that it is a team for down on their luck super-powered individuals for no where else to go. "So if you are looking someplace to set up shop, you are welcome to join our team. We can take care of the paperwork on Monday."

Returning back to the mission: "Despite the high team turnover, you are all getting more recognition on the street. Amanda has already highlighted social media posts showing you all in action, and returning back on the pubcycle."

Carla glances at Trent and clears her throat before continuing: "While we can't fault you for the destruction of the team's hovertrucks," she pauses and looks to Dawn Breaker, "And we are sorry to hear about your van, however we don't have the budget to immediately replace the trucks. We can expect replacements to arrive by the end of the month. In the meantime, we got you bus passes."

WHAT ARE YOUR INTENTIONS?

Shazbut · Post by **Shazbut** » Thu Oct 17, 2024 2:22 am

JIC: 1d20: [8] = 8 , 1d100: [17] = 17
Perception: 70% / 1d100: [32] = 32 (SUCCESS)

CHIMERA wrote: ↑Wed Oct 16, 2024 6:26 pm Carla glances at Trent and clears her throat before continuing: "While we can't fault you for the destruction of the team's hovertrucks," she pauses and looks to Dawn Breaker, "And we are sorry to hear about your van, however we don't have the budget to immediately replace the trucks. We can expect replacements to arrive by the end of the month. In the meantime, we got you bus passes."

Shazbut's heart sinks a little as Carla explains the financial situation. The thought of relying on bus passes fills him with a strange mixture of excitment What skunk doesn't want to ride on a bus?! There's so many bus riding songs to sing! Oh boy! and yet some feelings of disappointment Carla buy me the new sexy fedora and the clothes, and now she's got nothing for the trucks!.

Well, this little black skunk isn't about to let his team down.

"I'll be right back!"

He's a skunk on a mission as he zips back to his room, his mind racing. I had something from before. I always carry it, where is it? Where? He digs through his belongings, things acquired over many decades of travels. Soon enough, his fingers brush against a familiar object. He pulls it out eagerly – a worn, paper bag filled with a small fortune.

Ten thousand bucks! It is a stash he had acquired from the mobster Vinny Five Fingers back in the 1950s. Shazbut had never spent it, always saving it for a rainy day.

"Well, the rainy day has arrived!"

Shazbut bursts back into the war room, his eyes alight with excitement. "Don't worry, Carla," he declares, waving the bag of money in the air. "I haves got you covered!"

OOC Comments

He looks very excited to do his part. "This is help for the hovertrucks," he says.

If asked where he got all the old dated cash the skunk shrugs innocently. "Vinny gave it to me, but I never needed it. But you do! So here, haves it! I only wish it was more."

The skunk seems to care little about money as he pushes every dollar he owns into Carla's hands. Nor does he have any concept that the money is almost certainly stolen by his gangster friend a lifetime ago.

Charm/Impress 80%: 1d100: [49] = 49 (SUCCESS)

Feeling this isn't anywhere near enough, the skunk paces about the room, his mind churning on the problem. Then, suddenly, his eyes light up with an idea! He projects an illusionary lightbulb over his head for a fleeting moment.

"Hey, Carla," he says in a voice filled with enthusiasm. "I could do some busking too! You know, beatbox a little music, sing a few songs. I can do that!"

Shazbut nods excitedly. "And I've got the perfect accessory," he says, pointing at his fedora hat. "I could collect the donations in here."

Red Sable · Post by **Red Sable** » Fri Oct 18, 2024 11:43 am

CHIMERA wrote: ↑Wed Oct 16, 2024 6:26 pm Carla glances at Trent and clears her throat before continuing: "While we can't fault you for the destruction of the team's hovertrucks," she pauses and looks to Dawn Breaker, "And we are sorry to hear about your van, however we don't have the budget to immediately replace the trucks. We can expect replacements to arrive by the end of the month. In the meantime, we got you bus passes."

WHAT ARE YOUR INTENTIONS?

Gina belts out a laugh. If Carla responds with anything suggesting she is remotely serious, Gina just rolls her eyes. The notion that they'd make their agents take the bus on official duties was just too laughable.

She'd been to Bespoke. She had a pretty good idea how much that Omega armor suit that they just handed her costs to build and maintain. The sky cycle parked in the hangar that they let her use for her first op was $75k easy, if not six figures. It was clear that Enigma was ridiculously well-funded, and likely not by Century Station official channels. If this wasn't some running gag, she could only assume that CHIMERA kept the Omegas in the dark on separate books.

Thankfully she had her own transportation in the form of her motorcycle if worse came to worst.

She heads out to get something to eat before Shaz gets back from his room. She was always famished after pushing her bionics on a mission.

Dawn Breaker · Post by **Dawn Breaker** » Fri Oct 18, 2024 12:31 pm

Perception: 1d100: [78] = 78 / 39%
JiC d20 | d100: 1d20: [18] = 18 | 1d100: [96] = 96

Carla glances at Trent and clears her throat before continuing: "While we can't fault you for the destruction of the team's hovertrucks," she pauses and looks to Dawn Breaker, "And we are sorry to hear about your van, however we don't have the budget to immediately replace the trucks. We can expect replacements to arrive by the end of the month. In the meantime, we got you bus passes."

Don't these people know what back up vehicles are? Then again they may not have S-10's budget. and S-10 has a big one too with 20 or so Jugerman's available. perhaps I could ask Blade about getting the omega's something. I should go on line and see how my insurance company is going on that replacement. I can't seem to count on Chimera to replace it all the time. she thinks and follows Red.

"Sinner-G is right, we did pretty good as a team. Nice take down on Boris by the way. I may have been a bit harsh on the taser bit, I didn't mean to sound too harsh about it. If I was I will not do that in the future." she says genuinely, "I just need a quiet place to check my vehicle insurance claim and capes seem the noisy type. you have any experience with heroes before now? Dawn asks. She did research and looked up the local heroes and villains but did not directly deal with them.

I may call S-10 for a new ride, If I do I will see if they have one for you as well. Seized vehicles can be decent and cheaper if you don't mind bullet holes." she asks as she walks. Once seated logs on and checks her claim again. Police auction was starting to look good to her.

Sinner-G · Post by **Sinner-G** » Sat Oct 19, 2024 12:40 am

Perception (56%): 1d100: [7] = 7
JIC (d20/d%): 1d20: [11] = 11 / 1d100: [64] = 64

CHIMERA wrote: ↑Wed Oct 16, 2024 6:26 pm Act IV: Closedown
Omega Base, 616 Grayson Street, Retropolis
Date: Thursday, April 23rd, 2043
Time: 1:50 pm
Weather: Sunny afternoon (68 degrees Fahrenheit)

"But it looks like we have a new addition to the team," Carla says looking over to Sinner-G. "Who are you?"

Gideon responds, "I call myself Sinner G, and I am an accidentally created enhanced soldier. They have since recreated and refined the process that created me, or so they say. The problem is they were perfectly willing to sell it to the highest bidder, even if that included enemy states and organizations. I refused to be used to sell such technology to groups like that, and so I fled, taking my personal gear with me."

CHIMERA wrote: ↑Wed Oct 16, 2024 6:26 pm After Sinner introduces himself, Carla gives him a quick introduction to the Omegas and their mission. She highlights that it is a team for down on their luck super-powered individuals for no where else to go. "So if you are looking someplace to set up shop, you are welcome to join our team. We can take care of the paperwork on Monday."

After the situation with transport is explained, he shakes his head and comments, "So the Omegas are the redheaded stepchild of the superteams? Sounds typically bureaucratic, they make their budget at the start of the year, spend it all on what they think they will need, and then have nothing left over when what they really need turns out to be different."

Dawn Breaker wrote: ↑Fri Oct 18, 2024 12:31 pm Perception: 1d100: [78] = 78 / 39%
JiC d20 | d100: 1d20: [18] = 18 | 1d100: [96] = 96

Carla glances at Trent and clears her throat before continuing: "While we can't fault you for the destruction of the team's hovertrucks," she pauses and looks to Dawn Breaker, "And we are sorry to hear about your van, however we don't have the budget to immediately replace the trucks. We can expect replacements to arrive by the end of the month. In the meantime, we got you bus passes."
Don't these people know what back up vehicles are? Then again they may not have S-10's budget. and S-10 has a big one too with 20 or so Jugerman's available. perhaps I could ask Blade about getting the omega's something. I should go on line and see how my insurance company is going on that replacement. I can't seem to count on Chimera to replace it all the time. she thinks and follows Red.

I may call S-10 for a new ride, If I do I will see if they have one for you as well. Seized vehicles can be decent and cheaper if you don't mind bullet holes." she asks as she walks. Once seated logs on and checks her claim again. Police auction was starting to look good to her.

Computer Operation 1d100/90%

Gideon notes, "That may actually be a reasonable suggestion, confiscated vehicles that would otherwise be sold could possibly be easier to re-allocate. It may just be a matter of doing the right paperwork...not that I know much about that. I was a demolitions specialist, not a desk jockey."

He thinks, *It is likely to take some time, I may have enough in my account to get a good racing bike. As I observed earlier, someone like me will be able to reach speeds far faster than a bus on a bicycle.*

When Shazbut races out and brings in some money, Gideon looks it over and whistles, "That is a fair amount of cash, but it may be worth more than its face value. This is OLD and it may be worth a lot to a collector. It is not enough to buy a good car these days directly...but indirectly it is hard to say."

Steiblah · Post by **Steiblah** » Sat Oct 19, 2024 4:05 am

-----------------------------------
Perception: d%: [14] = 14 | 81%
JIC: 1d20: [11] = 11 | d%: [51] = 51
-----------------------------------

Conditions

Since 'Good Guy Steiblah' is a rather thick skinned individual, the pedal escapade returning to base is not as utterly embarrassing as originally thought. Ultimately, he does not have much of a reputation to maintain anyway. So instead, he simply enjoys the scenery as they travel and Percy trots along next to them.

CHIMERA wrote: ↑Wed Oct 16, 2024 6:26 pmAs Neville bikes away, Carla leads the team into the war room for a debriefing. "Good job, everyone. Thanks to your teamwork, you were able to minimize casualties and restore order to the scene fairly quickly."

"Unfortunately, Lenok did not feel the same way," Trent chimes in. "He returned ahead of you. We discussed his habit of going into a scene alone and without coordinating with the squad leader. After an exchange of opinions, we agreed that to part ways. I believe he is going to search for his children in the dragon enclaves in North America."

That's unfortunate... Steiblah thinks, reflecting on the dragon. I hope he finds what he is looking for.

CHIMERA wrote: ↑Wed Oct 16, 2024 6:26 pmCarla glances at Trent and clears her throat before continuing: "While we can't fault you for the destruction of the team's hovertrucks," she pauses and looks to Dawn Breaker, "And we are sorry to hear about your van, however we don't have the budget to immediately replace the trucks. We can expect replacements to arrive by the end of the month. In the meantime, we got you bus passes."

"Pardon my intrusion," Steiblah inquires politely, "But if there is room in the back of the garage, might I ask that you tow the damaged vehicles there rather than to the junkyard? I've become rather inspired and would like to try my hand at repairing them during downtime. No lifts or modifications to the garage required. And no budget necessary."

"If I don't have it sorted out within a week, they can be sent back to their original destination." the reformed Raksasha offers. His time with Edison in the workshop truly was inspirational. But it was according to the hardware expert's plan and this seemed a perfect opportunity for Steiblah to attempt to fix something according to his talents. And if he failed, no harm, no foul.

Should Carla and Trent agree, Steiblah's plan is to couple his psychic: telemechanics ((for instruction on how things should be)), telekinesis and electrokinesis for electrical work ((pyrokinesis if localized soldering is required)) along with magical abilities: mend the broken to repair the structural damage. Although this sort of work should be fairly draining for the typical mystic, Steiblah's vast psychic and magical stores along with replenishment on the ley line should make for speedy work.

Edison · Post by **Edison** » Wed Oct 23, 2024 3:08 pm

Perception: 1d100: [29] = 29 /56%
Just in Case: 1d20: [20] = 20 ; 1d100
Conditions: None.

CHIMERA wrote:"Our orders are to register all the evidence found at the scene,"

"Let me tag it and put in the system then you can put it in your..."

"How about we have it shipped to the Omega Base after it's been registered at central."

Edison looks over to the trucks as well, and sighs. "Yeah that should do fine. Thanks guys." Edison says before his trip back to headquarters. While the trip back is unorthodox at the very least, to Edison it's at least a little entertaining, he even goes so far as to take Neville up on one of his mocktails. Once the team is back, Edison makes an effort to approach Neville. "Thanks for the assist, it was fun." Edison says, offering his hand for a shake.

Once Neville is off to points unknown, Edison looks back to Carla and Trent. "Went about as smooth as it could, save the trucks getting pretty banged up. I should be able to hammer out a report soon enough." Edison says before following them into the war room for the debrief. When Carla mentions the social media, Edison smirks. "I hope there isn't one of me giving the fire chief a piggy back ride. There was a lot of alcohol involved." Edison says with a chuckle.

At the mention of bus passes, Edison shrugs. "Could be worse." He says, as the meeting ends.

Edison heads to his quarters once the meeting is over and begins the slow process of shedding his armor off. Did the job, got a little banged up, but did the job. Edison thinks as he sets it on the armor stand, while stowing his guns in the gun safe. "A shower, then we'll see what happens." Edison says to himself as he goes and takes care of his hygiene, dressing in a clean outfit that looks unsurprisingly similar to what he normally wears, only different colors of t-shirt and flannel.

Once clean, Edison heads out into the garden to do something he wished he had had time to do days earlier. Finding a nice spot to sit, Edison looks for Maia. "We haven't really met. My name is Marcus, I just wanted to meet you at the very least under less stressful circumstances." Edison says, a slight hint of fear in his voice, as he has only a real inkling of how powerful Maia really is.

Tom Cassidy · Post by **Tom Cassidy** » Thu Oct 24, 2024 11:23 am

Perception: 1d100<69: [46*] = 1
JIC: 1d20: [17] = 17 / 1d100: [27] = 27

Conditions:
- Force Field SDC: 3,000/3,900

Tom drops his energy-constructed accoutrements once the pubcycle pulls up at the Omegas HQ and shakes Neville's hand. "Thanks for the ride, sir..." he grins. "We'll have to do this again soon -- in a much less 'unofficial' capacity, of course."

CHIMERA wrote: ↑Wed Oct 16, 2024 6:26 pmAs Neville bikes away, Carla leads the team into the war room for a debriefing. "Good job, everyone. Thanks to your teamwork, you were able to minimize casualties and restore order to the scene fairly quickly."

"Unfortunately, Lenok did not feel the same way," Trent chimes in. "He returned ahead of you. We discussed his habit of going into a scene alone and without coordinating with the squad leader. After an exchange of opinions, we agreed that to part ways. I believe he is going to search for his children in the dragon enclaves in North America."

Typical dragon behavior... Tom unsuccessfully tries to stifle a snort. Nope, don't go there Tom. You're trying to keep an open mind, remember?

For a moment, he can see Balisong in his mind's eye smiling that knowing smile she gave him when he made his recommendation for Edison to be the Bravo lead... and wonders if she figured this would happen. You probably did, Madam Director -- you sly dog, you.

CHIMERA wrote: ↑Wed Oct 16, 2024 6:26 pmReturning back to the mission: "Despite the high team turnover, you are all getting more recognition on the street. Amanda has already highlighted social media posts showing you all in action, and returning back on the pubcycle."

Tom chuckles. "Hey, any good publicity we get for a change is welcome in my book... and hopefully Neville gets a boost in business out of it as well. Speaking of, he called us 'Century Station's Scrappiest Heroes' -- any way we could get that marketed to our advantage? I mean, it's not as catchy as 'Earth's Mightiest Heroes' but it's got potential." Though watch, we'll get sponsorship offers from multiple beer companies after this... maybe a good thing, maybe a bad thing... he adds to himself.

CHIMERA wrote: ↑Wed Oct 16, 2024 6:26 pmCarla glances at Trent and clears her throat before continuing: "While we can't fault you for the destruction of the team's hovertrucks," she pauses and looks to Dawn Breaker, "And we are sorry to hear about your van, however we don't have the budget to immediately replace the trucks. We can expect replacements to arrive by the end of the month. In the meantime, we got you bus passes."

BUS PASSES? Are you freaking SERIOUS? Tom hopes his face doesn't echo his thoughts too strongly. He knows all too well they're serious. He sat in on enough budget discussions while on the force, and Century Station's Scrappiest Heroes (tm) aren't high-profile enough to warrant such discretionary spending. Ultimately he shakes his head. "Alright, but let's save that for a 'Plan B' coming back from a mission; we can't foil another jail breakout attempt if we're stuck waiting for a bus. In the meantime, we'll need to formulate a quick insertion plan based on our abilities. Those of us who can fly, who are speedsters, that sort of thing. We may have to assign -- and geez, I can't believe I'm saying it out loud -- 'insertion buddies' for quick response." He scratches his head and is about to say something when Steiblah speaks up.

Steiblah wrote: ↑Sat Oct 19, 2024 4:05 am"Pardon my intrusion," Steiblah inquires politely, "But if there is room in the back of the garage, might I ask that you tow the damaged vehicles there rather than to the junkyard? I've become rather inspired and would like to try my hand at repairing them during downtime. No lifts or modifications to the garage required. And no budget necessary."

"Good idea," Tom nods. "I was about to suggest something similar." He looks at Edison. "What do you think? If we can cannibalize the two of them we may at least get one of them back out on the road." He shrugs. "I'm more than willing to help -- I only know the basics, but I can at least lift heavy parts."

Shazbut wrote: ↑Thu Oct 17, 2024 2:22 am"Don't worry, Carla, I haves got you covered! This is help for the hovertrucks,"

"Vinny gave it to me, but I never needed it. But you do! So here, haves it! I only wish it was more."

Tom can only look on incredulously as Shaz literally shoves a bag stuffed full of money at Carla. "Just how long have you been here on Earth, anyway???"

Dawn Breaker wrote: ↑Fri Oct 18, 2024 12:31 pm"Sinner-G is right, we did pretty good as a team. Nice take down on Boris by the way. I may have been a bit harsh on the taser bit, I didn't mean to sound too harsh about it. If I was I will not do that in the future." she says genuinely, "I just need a quiet place to check my vehicle insurance claim and capes seem the noisy type. you have any experience with heroes before now? I may call S-10 for a new ride, If I do I will see if they have one for you as well. Seized vehicles can be decent and cheaper if you don't mind bullet holes."

Tom chuckles. "I'm glad we were able to keep him in jail for the time being. We just brought him in, but he's definitely got high-level connections that came way too close to springing him." His chuckle fades. And whoever his connections are, they're not likely to give up after the first failed attempt. We may not be so lucky next time.

He's also not very keen on asking Sector 10 for handouts. "Thanks, but like Shakespeare said, 'neither a borrower nor a lender be.' I'm sure they've got their own budget issues, and we'll make do until ours are back on the road." And call me paranoid, but I don't want to be in the least bit of debt to another group in the governmental game -- when you're in debt to someone, they have leverage over you and often don't have your best interests at heart.

Dawn Breaker · Post by **Dawn Breaker** » Thu Oct 24, 2024 1:47 pm

Barricade wrote:"I'm glad we were able to keep him in jail for the time being. We just brought him in, but he's definitely got high-level connections that came way too close to springing him." His chuckle fades. And whoever his connections are, they're not likely to give up after the first failed attempt. We may not be so lucky next time.

Barricade wrote:He's also not very keen on asking Sector 10 for handouts. "Thanks, but like Shakespeare said, 'neither a borrower nor a lender be.'

"Yeah, the workshop may not be a meta team. but they are a potential danger." she agrees stopping a moment looking back as she walks with Red.

"Those seized cars and vehicles are just going to be auctioned, salvaged or repurposed. Better we use them someone else." she adds with a grin "and on occasion you find some weird stuff." then continues to walk with Red. Sector -10 have busted some high end criminals and found a few nice surprises in the past. Hopefully she would find a good cargo van she modify with a better security system this time.

Steiblah · Post by **Steiblah** » Sat Oct 26, 2024 5:08 am

((rolls carried over))

Tom Cassidy wrote: ↑Thu Oct 24, 2024 11:23 am
Steiblah wrote: ↑Sat Oct 19, 2024 4:05 am"Pardon my intrusion," Steiblah inquires politely, "But if there is room in the back of the garage, might I ask that you tow the damaged vehicles there rather than to the junkyard? I've become rather inspired and would like to try my hand at repairing them during downtime. No lifts or modifications to the garage required. And no budget necessary."
"Good idea," Tom nods. "I was about to suggest something similar." He looks at Edison. "What do you think? If we can cannibalize the two of them we may at least get one of them back out on the road." He shrugs. "I'm more than willing to help -- I only know the basics, but I can at least lift heavy parts."

"Again, begging pardon. But I was thinking of a... less conventional method of repairing the vehicles." Steiblah explains. As means of demonstration, he takes a piece of paper or fabric nearby, tears it, and then proceeds to restore it with magic ((Mend the Broken)).

I wonder if it is wise to reveal this... 'Good Guy Steiblah' needs to be honest and forthcoming. So let's see what the implications are.

"I understand that not all may be comfortable with the unconventional, but in spending time with Edison in the workshop, I very much wanted to see if my skillset was also suitable for repair and innovation." the reformed Raksasha admits in a moment of vulnerability.

Post by **CHIMERA** » Sat Oct 26, 2024 8:58 am

Act IV: Closedown
Omega Base, 616 Grayson Street, Retropolis
Date: Thursday, April 23rd, 2043
Time: 2:00 pm
Weather: Sunny afternoon (68 degrees Fahrenheit)

Butcher's Bill
Barricade: -71 S.D.C. to flying disc
Dawn Breaker: -5 S.D.C. Omega suit
Edison: - 60 S.D.C. to Mark II armor
Lenok: -100 S.D.C. Omega suit; -11 S.D.C.
Maia: -60 S.D.C.
Sinner-G: -5 S.D.C. superhero costume

With all the pomp and formality that has been seen today, Sinner-G is welcomed to the Omegas.

Sinner-G wrote:"So the Omegas are the redheaded stepchild of the superteams? Sounds typically bureaucratic, they make their budget at the start of the year, spend it all on what they think they will need, and then have nothing left over when what they really need turns out to be different."

"Not quite," Carla replies, not disagreeing, "we're definitely not the most prestigious team, but the Omegas have saved Century Station enough times to have the public's respect. That just doesn't translate to the largest slice of CHIMERA's budget."

Barricade wrote:"Hey, any good publicity we get for a change is welcome in my book... and hopefully Neville gets a boost in business out of it as well. Speaking of, he called us 'Century Station's Scrappiest Heroes' -- any way we could get that marketed to our advantage? I mean, it's not as catchy as 'Earth's Mightiest Heroes' but it's got potential."

"I already got the hashtag trending Finsta and Z," Amanda chimes in cheerfully. "But merchandising is a good idea! I'll see about getting some t-shirts made."

wrote:"I hope there isn't one of me giving the fire chief a piggy back ride. There was a lot of alcohol involved."

"Oh no," Carla says with a smile, "I'm saving those pics for when we need a favor from the chief. That was some fine work, Agent Davidson."

When Carla announces that their vehicles will be out of commission almost everyone offers some way of getting around this. Shazbut's offer to go busking is warmly received, but as Carla explains, "We're not out of money. We just didn't budget for replacement hovertrucks; it was assumed that if one was damaged we could operate with one vehicle until the other could be repaired." She smiles and adds, "But you can still go busking. It's a good way to go on patrol in the meantime: go find a spot to entertain people stop and help anyone you see in need. You never know what adventures you might find along the way.*"

As for repairing the vehicles: "I was planning on having Gizmo see if he could repair the chassis of hovertruck Dawn Breaker took to the scene. I'm sure that he would appreciate your help Steiblah, your powers will save him hours of work in the machine shop. But the second hovertruck will need more significant work - proprietary parts that can't simply be mended, software checks, and who knows what else." Thinking about how complicated car repair has become she sighs, "It makes me nostalgic for my dad's El Camino."

On Sector 10: "I agree with Barricade. The bus passes might not be the most thrilling option for the moment, but it's still better than having to ask Director Berry for a favor. It never feels like he's actually helping us out when he offers something. Hopefully with Steiblah's help we can have one truck back before midweek."

WHAT ARE YOUR INTENTIONS?

* Players are allowed to use their next post to write a short story about their PC taking public transit in HU:CS and encountering some crime to foil. Rewards will be doled out by the HU:CS cabal based on character writing, quality prose, and (most importantly) creativity.

Red Sable · Post by **Red Sable** » Sun Oct 27, 2024 8:32 am

CHIMERA wrote: ↑Sat Oct 26, 2024 8:58 am * Players are allowed to use their next post to write a short story about their PC taking public transit in HU:CS and encountering some crime to foil. Rewards will be doled out by the HU:CS cabal based on character writing, quality prose, and (most importantly) creativity.

Always a firm believer in backup plans, Gina decides to drive her motorcycle to her safehouse to keep it stashed there. She heads out, wearing a jacket over her Bespoke armored seal suit. Given that she knew she was being hunted, she never left home without it when possible, but she doesn’t want to be in full Omega gear either. Given the fashion trends of Century Station, she still passed for a civilian to casual glances.

She also uses the opportunity to check on her dark-web crawler searching for anything on Sector operations.

The only snag in this plan is getting back. Running is always an option, but that would call undue attention to herself. And after all, she did have this bus pass now. In short order, she blends into the urban crowd and boards the first bus heading in the direction of Omega HQ.

Twenty minutes into what had been an uneventful ride, someone calls out, “Oh my God, look!”

All eyes turn to the left windows, through which Gina sees a dark-haired man in bedraggled clothes waving a gun and yanking on a car door in the middle of street at the intersection.

“Stop the bus!” she hears herself blurt out on an instinct she still didn’t fully recognize.

When the driver instead goes faster to get his passengers away from the danger, Gina muscles through to the rear doors with a growl and yanks down on the emergency lever overhead. The driver and several stunned passengers cry out as the doors open, and Gina leaps out of the moving vehicle.

Now a block away, the carjacking in progress plays out to its expected conclusion. The thug throws the hapless civilian to the street and climbs into the luxury sedan.

Horns blare as cars screech to a halt around Gina. The redhead’s cybernetic eye zooms in on the fleeing car and she bolts for the sidewalk, weaving through chaotic traffic and hopping over hoods in the process. She watches the stolen car turn two blocks away and darts sideways down the nearest alley.

In mid-stride, she doffs her jacket, pulls up the neck gaiter over her face, and dons her sleek sunglasses. The computer readout in her one eye projects on the dark glass, showing a map of the suspect’s projected route based on its previous speed and traffic patterns.

Red Sable pivots at the next street, sprinting on an intercept course. She curses to herself as the sedan careens through the intersection ahead of her. A new chorus of horns and screeching brakes rise up as she beelines through a gap in traffic. A startled driver in her left lane swerves at the shock of seeing her pass him on foot and she leaps over it.

Something tells her she's going to get chewed out by Carla when she got back to base.

As she rounds the corner onto the same street as her target, she spots him a full block and a half ahead, on the other side of a red light he ignored. Sable veers into the median for a clearer path. Thankfully, the gap between vehicles is noticeably wider since the last maniac just tore through there at near sixty miles per hour. She hurdles the entire mess, landing without losing pace on the other side, soon cutting the carjacker’s lead in half.

Red Sable curses the sight of the interstate overpass coming up, but breathes a sigh of relief at the dense backup on the on-ramp. The stolen car veers toward it, presumably because the moron at the wheel doesn’t realize how clogged it is. His tires squeal in his attempt to course correct, but he slams against the rear fender of another turning car and bounces onto the curb. The driver scrambles out of the car, panic mounting with the revelation of how badly he’d botched his big escape plan.

His wide eyes turn toward her and he shoots. Not that he had much prayer of hitting her at her current speed and range, but she leans into her run on instinct. She’s less aggravated at getting shot at, though, than over the fact that her momentum would be too hard to stop in time to keep him from running off on foot.

A delivery truck cuts her off and renders that concern moot.

She maneuvers into a slide under the vehicle on her right leg. A stunt like that would’ve left some nasty road rash on her non-synthetic skin, but her bionic leg takes it with no more damage from the asphalt than stealing second base on the playground.

More gunshots ring out, clanging against the truck as she emerges and kips up. After regaining her bearings, she spots her target running through a sea of terrified civilians into a café.

From the middle of the intersection, she makes a long jump over the crowd and rolls up on the sidewalk, stopping short of the entrance as she tracks the crook’s movement inside through the window. A quick glance down the street confirms that an alley runs behind the café where the kitchen likely has a back exit. She runs that way instead.

She rounds the edge of the alley and creeps into position next to the rear service entrance. Several seconds later… Nothing happens.

Her brow furrows in suspicion. She strains to hear inside then abruptly cranes backward as the door suddenly opens. She spins into a leg sweep, pounces on the guy’s back, and puts him in a hammer lock. The dusty-haired man in her grip starts screaming in Spanish.

She lets go and climbs to her feet, confusion mounting.

The panic-stricken cook looks even more confused than she is. After swearing at her some more, he starts rambling about some crazy dude who barged into the kitchen and ran upstairs.

She sighs and rolls her eyes. You gotta be kidding me.

She looks at the fire escape above, bounds off it, and continues upwards, hopping off the buildings on either side of the alley parkour style. The roof-access door opens just as she vaults over the ledge and she slams into it, sending the would-be carjacker tumbling across the gravel into the opposite ledge and his gun in another direction.

She takes another deliberate step forward, glaring at her captured prey.

“I don’t know nothing,” he pleads. “I swear.”

Sable regards him more gently. “Shh. I believe you. Problem is, that means you’re no good to me.”

And she shoots him in the head.

Red Sable takes an uneasy step forward, narrowing her eyes in frustration. Not now dammit. She kicks the gun further out of reach. The perp scrambles up against the ledge, promptly raising his hands.

She escorts him to ground level, where she suspects police will arrive shortly.

Flashbulbs flicker in the night as she emerges from the building.

“Sable! Sable, can you give us a statement?”

”Oh wow you’re that new girl on the Omegas right? I saw the jail breakout on TV. You were awesome.”

A half dozen camera phones turn on her almost in unison. She urges the crowd to get back as she doesn’t have her zip ties on her, and the agitated prisoner was only held in a precarious arm bar. The police blissfully arrive before the scene gets too chaotic and she hands the carjacker over to a round of applause.

“All in a day’s work, folks,” she quips in her modulated voice, deciding to go with it. The spectacle is the last thing she wants, but in this town it would be even more suspicious if she didn’t play the part of the superhero. And that line gave her a cue for a grand exit. She raised her hand with splayed fingers, launching her grapple line at the roof ledge above, and lifted off, much to the crowd’s delight.

On the way home, taken mostly by rooftop, Gina mulls over the disconcerting flashbacks she experienced. The images felt disjointed, almost staticky. The detachment she sensed from them makes her wonder if they were even real. As if she didn’t have enough to dwell on when it came to her past.

Sinner-G · Post by **Sinner-G** » Mon Oct 28, 2024 3:05 am

Perception (56%):1d100
JIC (d20/d%):1d20/1d100

Gideon reflected, *The problem with any government position, is the paperwork.*

He had been at the paperwork for hours already. At least they give him a break between forms to test his other abilities. So far, they have determined that he can lift 11400 pounds with great effort and that he can carry 7600 pounds in his back if it is properly distributed. Meaning he can carry a mid-sized car on his back if he must. They have found out he can run at just over thirty miles an hour, make a running long jump of 40 feet and a running high jump of 24 feet, with standing jumps half those distances, and that he can drop from a height of 100 feet without damage. They have discovered he heals from injuries over 1440 times as fast, healing in a minute what would normally take a day...and that he has a substantially reduced sense of touch, especially increasing his pain tolerance, but his senses of sight, hearing, and scent are roughly five times better. He also possessed thermal vision, though that meant his eyes had a far lower temperature than normal body temperature to keep from washing out the required optical pigments...and that ability can be blinded in overly warm environments.

Gideon admitted that their testing of his healing was not very fun either, though it would have been worse if they had not tested his pain tolerance first and determined where they could damage him without his feeling it much.

They had NOT figured out how to break his bones. It had been determined it would do too much soft tissue damage to make it worth trying, but that whatever material they are honeycombed with is at least thirty times as strong as normal bone (a necessity to support his strength).

The reflex tests had shown that had about a ten percent increase in reaction speed and the ability too land on his feet like a cat, not a vast improvement but notable.

The tests of his ability to modify his appearance showed that it is almost entirely limited to his head, though he can change his hair and eye color and he appears to have a layer of morphable cartilage on his skull that lets him change his cheekbones, brow ridges, and jawline. The result is he can make himself look like anyone of roughly the same height and build with minimal disguise. He can even alter the inside of his mouth to imitate voices with a fair degree of skill.

He finished this set of paperwork and was shown back to the physical testing area.

The doctor says, as he enters, "We saved the endurance test for last, if that ability is as boosted as the rest, we figure this should take the rest of the day, if not longer."

Gideon sighed and grunted, "Great, I prefer being bored doing something physical to reading fine print. I presume that means I finally finished the paperwork?"

Shazbut · Post by **Shazbut** » Mon Oct 28, 2024 3:12 pm

JIC: 1d20: [16] = 16 , 1d100: [86] = 86
Perception: 70% / 1d100: [70] = 70 (SUCCESS)

Shazbut wrote: ↑Thu Oct 17, 2024 2:22 am"Don't worry, Carla, I haves got you covered! This is help for the hovertrucks,"

"Vinny gave it to me, but I never needed it. But you do! So here, haves it! I only wish it was more."

Tom Cassidy wrote: ↑Thu Oct 24, 2024 11:23 amTom can only look on incredulously as Shaz literally shoves a bag stuffed full of money at Carla. "Just how long have you been here on Earth, anyway???"

Shazbut blinks, momentarily taken aback by Barricade's question. I never really thinks about that. I been here long?

The concept of age, of time passing, is a bit foreign to him. He's lived on Earth since 1910, though he hasn't really been keeping score in that sort of way.

"How long?" he muses, scratching his head. "Well, I've been around a bits, I suppose. I gots taken in by a Welsh Anglican priest named John Roberts, you could ask him!" He pauses, lost in thought. "I no remember the name of the church, it's somewhere on the Wind River Reservation. You can't miss it!"

"Let's see, when I came here was before the Rock and the Roll. Maple Leaf Rag was a new song! Or the Darktown Strutters' Ball." He giggles at the memories of early jazz and ragtime. "Now first thing I remembers was hearing some singing on the radio. But radio was sort of experimental at the times. They no sing much, not till afters. But in the church they sing all the time. I learns all the songs!"

CHIMERA wrote: ↑Sat Oct 26, 2024 8:58 am When Carla announces that their vehicles will be out of commission almost everyone offers some way of getting around this. Shazbut's offer to go busking is warmly received, but as Carla explains, "We're not out of money. We just didn't budget for replacement hovertrucks; it was assumed that if one was damaged we could operate with one vehicle until the other could be repaired." She smiles and adds, "But you can still go busking. It's a good way to go on patrol in the meantime: go find a spot to entertain people stop and help anyone you see in need. You never know what adventures you might find along the way.*"

"Eh, so you not want the moolah?" the skunks asks. If not, he puts the money away and doesn't think any more of it.

CHIMERA wrote: ↑Sat Oct 26, 2024 8:58 amOn Sector 10: "I agree with Barricade. The bus passes might not be the most thrilling option for the moment, but it's still better than having to ask Director Berry for a favor. It never feels like he's actually helping us out when he offers something. Hopefully with Steiblah's help we can have one truck back before midweek."

Shazbut's eyes light up with childlike excitement as Carla announces the bus passes. He bounces on his heels, an eager grin spreading across his face. "Bus passes? Oh, boy! This is going to be fun!" he exclaims, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "I always wanted to ride on a bus!"

He joyfully hops up and down, his tail swishing left and right in anticipation. "Where's my bus pass? I want to ride the bus! I've never ridden a bus before!" he says in voice filled with wonder.

It is as if a child had just received the best present ever.

If no one has any further need for Shazbut, he immediately rushes off to a bus stop waiting for his chance at a fun journey through town.

Hero story next post!

Steiblah · Post by **Steiblah** » Tue Oct 29, 2024 8:17 am

-----------------------------------
Perception: d%: [100] = 100 | 81%
JIC: 1d20: [2] = 2 | d%: [75] = 75
-----------------------------------

Conditions

CHIMERA wrote: ↑Sat Oct 26, 2024 8:58 amAs for repairing the vehicles: "I was planning on having Gizmo see if he could repair the chassis of hovertruck Dawn Breaker took to the scene. I'm sure that he would appreciate your help Steiblah, your powers will save him hours of work in the machine shop. But the second hovertruck will need more significant work - proprietary parts that can't simply be mended, software checks, and who knows what else." Thinking about how complicated car repair has become she sighs, "It makes me nostalgic for my dad's El Camino."

Long familiar with espionage and subterfuge, Steiblah hides his disappointment. His Edison-inspiration was to facilitate the restoration of the hover vehicles, but he had hoped that he would be given the freedom of being the primary rather than simply an assistant. He also was eager to flex some psionics and magic in the repair effort and though it sounded like Gizmo may be more comfortable with powers being applied to the work, it was entirely possible that he would, like Edison, be hesitant to rely on mystical solutions that defied mundane logic. Perhaps in the future, the reformed Raksasha would need to apply his tinkering efforts to something that personally belonged to him rather than to the organization.

If this is what the team wants, I should help Gizmo.

"Certainly. Happy to help. Let's go." Steiblah confirms and joins Gizmo in the repair efforts.

----------
Power use for repair reprinted below
----------

Steiblah wrote: ↑Sat Oct 19, 2024 4:05 amShould Carla and Trent agree, Steiblah's plan is to couple his psychic: telemechanics ((for instruction on how things should be)), telekinesis and electrokinesis for electrical work ((pyrokinesis if localized soldering is required)) along with magical abilities: mend the broken to repair the structural damage. Although this sort of work should be fairly draining for the typical mystic, Steiblah's vast psychic and magical stores along with replenishment on the ley line should make for speedy work.

((Bus hero journey also to be in another post))

Maia · Post by **Maia** » Tue Oct 29, 2024 12:33 pm

JIC: 1d20: [13] = 13 , 1d100: [76] = 76
PER: 1d100: [78] = 78 vs. 76%

Conditions: ,

Bike, truck, bus, or even walking- none of it makes much difference to Maia. The humor of the situation is lost on her too, and she finds herself puzzled at the others’ reaction. A waste. Are they impatient? Prideful? Foolish. Pointless. The tree spirit literally shrugs off her body and drifts back to her garden, where she settles into her tree with a blissful sigh on the wind. ”REST. NOW.” As she tends to her garden, Maia reflects on her experience of the day- particularly the prison and some of the team’s new arrivals.

Edison wrote: ↑Wed Oct 23, 2024 3:08 pm"We haven't really met. My name is Marcus, I just wanted to meet you at the very least under less stressful circumstances." Edison says, a slight hint of fear in his voice, as he has only a real inkling of how powerful Maia really is.

While her tree doesn't move, Maia's mind's eye turns to regard Edison. He's afraid. Smart. She rumbles in a tired but firm 'voice' "HELLO. WELCOME. BE. DEFERENCE. APPRECIATE." At this the tree's branches twist a bit to welcome Edison into the garden, but Maia doesn't have much more to say unless the man has questions for her. As always, she is content to sit in the soil and drink in the sun.

Shazbut · Post by **Shazbut** » Wed Oct 30, 2024 3:38 pm

Chapter 1: The Bus Stop

Shazbut, our alien skunk hero, zipped down the street, a blur of speed. Faster than cars, faster than buses, even faster than road-raging cyclists, he raced towards his destination: the nearest bus stop.

A single word echoed through his mind: Bus stop! Indeed, Shazbut is on a mission, and nothing was going to stop him.

As he approached the bus stop, he slowed down, and his eyes widened with wonder. There he beheld it! Wooah!

In truth it is a simple structure. A metal pole topped with a faded, plastic roof. A worn metal bench sits beneath it, its paint chipped and faded.

It is the wonderful!

Indeed, it is to Shazbut. He looked at it as if it were a marvel of human engineering. He eyes roved over that bus stop with the same awe and reverence that an archaeologist might when seeing a precious relic of the past. Every detail, from the worn paint to the faded bus schedule, is a fascinating puzzle piece in the grand tapestry of Century Station.

I wonders how many people sit on that bench? I wonders how many benches are in this city? How many peoples are sitting on a bench just like this one right now?

So Shazbut gingerly sat down on the cold, metal bench, with his back straight and his posture impeccable. He felt very much a part of the municipal system, a vast incomprehensible city machine, finely tuned towards the endless task of transporting butts and their owners across the city expanse. He taps his foot rhythmically against the concrete pavement as his eyes scanned the street, searching for any sign of an approaching bus. His eyes, sharp and alert, peer farther than human bus patrons can manage.

Any second now...

But alas no bus was forthcoming.

He was not disappointed in the least. Indeed, as he waited a strange sense of peace washed over him. The mundane act of waiting for a bus, whilst tapping his foot, soon became an almost meditative experience. He found himself lost in thought, contemplating the nature of waiting and wanting, of fantasy and existence. Of pies and muffins, and which is better on any given day.

Then a wave of inspiration struck him. He began to tap out a complex rhythm, his fingers dancing across the metal bench. With a skunky thought, he used his animal summoning power to summon a couple peach-coloured songbirds. The fluttered in out of nowhere, and perched themselves on the plastic bus stop rooftop. There they tweeted along joyously.

That's more like it! I love waiting! And the tweeting. I hears that tweeting is the hip things to do these days.

A small child stopped in front of him, her eyes wide with wonder. "Look, Mommy! A funny furry!" she exclaimed, pointing at Shazbut.

: Lily.png (169.69 KiB) Viewed 6797 times

Shazbut grinned. "Hello little one," he said in a gentle voice. His tapped rhythm continued without a break. "What is your names?"

The child giggled and introduced herself. "It's name silly, not names! I'm Lily," she said. "And you're a music man."

Shazbut chuckled. "You bet your giggleguts I am!" The two songbirds above, tweeted beautifully in agreement. Lily giggled some more.

The mother, recognising the Omega symbol on Shazbut's suit, relaxed. A knowing smile crossed her face as she regards the unusual Omega. "We're waiting for the 808," she explained, taking a seat beside Shazbut. There is a hint of worry in her voice.

The little girl, oblivious to her mother's concern, smiled brightly. "We're going to see Grandma!" she exclaimed, and her eyes sparkled with excitement.

Shazbut smiled brightly at the sight of the little girl's joy. "Grandma?! That is the wonderful!" he enthused. The mother hesitated, quite surprised by Shazbut’s enthusiasm, as if Lily's grandmother were also his own. "She's not feeling very well," she explained.

A moment of silence passed between them. Then, Shazbut asks a question, "If you no mind, I like to join you. I always wanted to visit a grandma."

"My name is Heather," the mother replied, with a certain hint of hesitation in her voice. "But won't you have... uh... hero things to do?"

Shazbut nodded, and smiled charmingly in that special way that only a space skunk can achieve. "Yes yes, always the doings. Always busy! But when you always busy, you never get anything done!" He looked at Heather, and wondered at her worried tone earlier. "Everyone choose for dream or demands. Here I choose sit and not walk. You worry for grandma, I happy to come. This my free time, I thinks I love to see the grandma! A skunk always haves to make the choices!"

"What's your name?" Lily asked.

Shazbut smirked happily. "That is my cue yes?" The songbirds crooned beautifully, and Shazbut started clapping his hands in rhythm. He warped the sound, and the clapping became a playful funky techno beat. A couple bystanders pulled out phones and started recording; a businessman in a suit, and a couple teenagers with torn jeans.

"My name is Shazbut, it's a name that wins scrabble games!" He laughs. And then, he sings!

♫♪♪ Waiting at the bus stop, not a bus in sight,
It's choice versus choice, it's wrong versus right!

It's waiting versus doing,
It's cheering versus booing,
It's patience versus haste,
It's public transport versus waste!

It's wonder versus worry,
It's hope versus hurry,
It's city versus the trees,
It's GM's versus the PC's

What's a skunk to do now?
What's a skunk to do now?

It's rock versus roll,
It's hip versus hop,
It's treble versus bass,
It's rhythm versus pace.

It's lyric versus meaning,
It's party versus cleaning,
It's nerd versus jock,
It's Will Smith versus Chris Rock.

What's a skunk to do now?
What's a skunk to do now?

It's just a fun short story
Will it stink or be sublime?
Grandma's missing us so sorely
Is the bus gonna be on time?!

It's hope versus despair,
It's joy versus care,
It's errands versus fun,
Can Shazbut make em one?" ♪♪♫

As Shazbut finished his impromptu performance, a ripple of applause spread through the crowd. Where they all comes from? He didn't notice them arriving. He tipped his fedora hat, and a happy smirk remained fixed on his face.

This a good day for smirkings! And the bus not even here yet! This day will be big fun I bets!

Shazbut · Post by **Shazbut** » Thu Oct 31, 2024 8:20 pm

Chapter 2: Mr Stinky

Then the bus arrived.

Its arrival is quite different to what he had imagined. Sleek and silent, it glided almost silently into the bus stop. Is it electric I wonders? Shazbut, Lily, and Heather boarded the bus, while the two songbirds, still perched atop the roof, disappeared in a puff of convenience.

The bus interior was clean, modern, and surprisingly quiet. Soft, ambient lighting cast a warm glow over the rows of plush, ergonomic seats. Shazbut felt a cool and fresh breeze, courtesy of a gentle ventilation system. They all found seats near the center, and Shazbut quickly took a window seat. Ohh the view! Those windows were large and clear, and Shazbut had a panoramic view of the trip.

As the bus pulled away, Shazbut was glued to the window, taking in the sights. The narrow streets, lined with densely built housing and cluttered with litter, was not what most folk would consider beautiful. But the skunky alien is struck by the beauty of the ordinary pleasures of everyday life. Soon they passed through a quiet neighborhood, its residents going about their daily routines. A child riding a bicycle, a dog chasing a squirrel, and an elderly couple strolling hand-in-hand.

"So, tell me more about grandma," Shazbut asked Lily. His green eyes were still focused on the world outside. I hope I spot another squirrel! "What is she like? What does she do all day? Grandma things?"

Lily's face lit up and she began to share stories. "She's the bestest grandma in the whole wide world!" Lily exclaimes excitedly. "She smells like cookies and tea, and she makes the yummiest chocolate chip cookies ever! And she's got this really soft lap that's perfect for snuggling."

She paused, a thoughtful look on her little face. "She even tells me stories about when she was little!"

"Well, should I tell a story?" Shazbut asked, his furry face still peering out the windowsill. He finds the sights hard to resist. I've never seen the city through a bus! It seems .. bus-ier. Haha.

"Oh yes, please!" Lily replied, and her eyes were wide with anticipation.

As the bus turned onto a bridge, the cool afternoon breeze swept through the open window. It carried with it the salty scent of the ocean. The city skyline, shimmering with the day's smog, stretched out before them, a dirty, busy, and breathtaking panorama.

The skunk turned to face Lily, and smiled. "Once upon a time," Shazbut began in a soft and soothing voice, "there was a little skunk named Stinky..."

Lily giggled, "Mr. Stinky!"

"Mr. Stinky Junior," Shazbut added with a wink. He found himself enjoying Lily's laughter, and the other half of his alien mind was already working on a punchline as the story was told.

"Well, Mr. Stinky Junior was the curious one, always wanting to explore," Shazbut continued. "One day, while playing in the park, he wanders a little too far. So busy he is chasing the butterfly that he didn't notice his mommy calling out to him. 'Stinky! stinky! Where's my stinky!"

Lily giggled, imagining the little skunk chasing the colorful butterfly, then the mother's call. But then the situation dawned on her and her eyes widened. "Oh, no!" she exclaimed.

"Suddenly, a loud siren was wailing through the air," Shazbut's voice grew more serious. "The big fire had started nearby, and the peoples were rushing to safety. Stinky, caught up in the crowd, got separated from his mommy. He was scared and alone, lost in the crowd."

Lily's eyes widened with worry. "Poor Stinky!" she whispered.

"As he looked and looked, he remembered his mommy's words, 'Stinky, always stay close to me, especially when things get scary,'" Shazbut said. "He felt the regrets in his heart. He should have listened."

Heather, who had been quietly listening, smiled gently. "It's important to listen to your parents, Lily," she said.

"I know, Mommy," Lily replied, nodding her head.

"Luckily, a kind firefighter spotted Stinky and helped him find his way to a safe place," Shazbut continued. "There, he found his worried mom. She hugged him tightly, relieved to have him back."

Lily sighed with relief. "That's good," she said. "I'm glad Mr Stinky Junior was safe."

Shazbut winked at Heather, a mischievous look in his eye. "Yes, Mr. Stinky was so happy. And so was Mommy Skunk. She hugged him a little too tightly, and the big fart came out his squeaker!" Shazbut made a face, little noise to emphasise the point.

"*Pffffft!*"

Lily erupted in laughter, her giggles filling the bus. Heather couldn't help but chuckle as well. Shazbut's twist had spiced up the lesson with a hilarious finish.

Is a loud exaggerated whisper, Shazbut added, "The firefighter was too close, and he passed out!"

Lily's laughter grew louder, and even some of the other passengers couldn't resist a smile.

Shazbut smirked happily, gazing out once again at the breathtaking view. The bus, having crested the highest point of the bridge, was now coasting downhill towards the exit. A few hundred yards ahead, he could see a large dump truck reaching the end of the bridge.

Suddenly, a sharp screech pierced the air. The dump truck swerved wildly, its tires losing grip on the road. In a heart-stopping moment, it overturned with a thunderous crash. Cars immediately behind slammed on their brakes, as did those before them. In a few heartbeats the electric bus also screeched to a halt while a collective gasp rippled amid the passengers. Shazbut's smile faded at the sight of the crash ahead; a cloud of dust and debris rose high into the air. The dump truck must have been carrying soil.

The massive dump truck, now a twisted wreck, lay on its side, its spilled topsoil blocking the road. The bus driver, a middle-aged man with a worn uniform and a tired expression, turned to address the passengers. His voice, though calm, betrayed his underlying worry. "Just stay calm, folks. Looks like we'll be here a while until they clear this mess."

One of the passengers, a grey-suited businessman in a bright red tie, spoke up. "Traffic control will get us turned around. We just have to wait a little."

The driver nodded in agreement. "You're not wrong. May as well enjoy the view while we can. Everyone alright?"

A ripple of nods and murmured reassurances passed through the bus. Lily squeezed her mother's hand tighter, seeking comfort and probably remembering the moral of Shazbut's story.

Shazbut, being the one in the superhero suit, felt a sense of responsibility. He glanced at the expectant eyes of the passengers and knew he couldn't just stand by. "I go check on the truck driver," he said, turning to Lily and Heather. "Maybe next time we can visit Grandma."

"It's ok Shazbut!" Lily said. "Be careful, it could be a booty trap!"

Shazbut giggled like a little girl at the innocent mistake. "I've heard of those!"

"Booby trap!" Heather corrected her daughter.

"That's even funnier!" Shazbut laughed. "It just a truck accident! I go have a looksee. Not to worry."

Before they could respond, they felt a vibration on the seat as Shazbut's body shook at ultra-high frequency. Then he simply slipped through the bus wall as if he were a ghost.

Now outside, Shazbut witnessed a gridlock of frustration stretched out before him. As a four-foot-tall being, it was a frustrating sight. Happily space skunks never read the law of gravity, and so he activated his gravitational power to rise high into the air. The bridge was blocked by the overturned truck, and many tons of soil spilled over the road. There were no emergency vehicles, no flashing lights. It was too soon.

He turned to see the other side of the bridge, a wave of dread washed over him. There was another truck! Identical to the first, and it too blocked the bridge road. But this one was different. It was a burning inferno, with smoke billowing into the sky. Now highly elevated, Shazbut could smell the acrid scent of burning rubber and metal carried by the chilly sea breeze.

What going on?! He wondered.

Then the first truck detonated, and was embroiled in smoke and flames like its partner on the other side.

No way out with both sides burning.

Shazbut's heart pounded in his chest. "Omega HQ, this is Shazbut. I have the bad news here. Both sides of the bridge are blocked by burning trucks..." His voice stopped off as a deafening explosion rocked the air. A searing pain shot through his chest. The world went dark.

Shazbut · Post by **Shazbut** » Fri Nov 01, 2024 10:53 pm

Chapter 3: Bad Bunny

A thick, acrid smoke filled Shazbut's nostrils. He could feel the harsh, unforgiving road pressed against his back. His head throbbed, and his body ached. Slowly he forced his eyelids open.

A voice, smooth and sinister, broke through the silence. "So, are you dead? Or just playing possum?"

Shazbut groaned, trying to sit up. "Ouch!" His eyes flickered open, and his vision cleared. Before him was a most bizarre sight! A white rabbit, dressed in a ridiculous Armani suit and tie, stood over him. Her aqua-tinted sunglasses looked rather fetching, complimenting her pure white as snow fur. A sleek, black automatic machine pistol was gripped tightly in her right hand. Behind the rabbit, an armored van stood open, its doors gaping like a wounded beast. Two uniformed guards lay sprawled on the ground, unconscious, while another slumped over the steering wheel.

Ooh a robbery! And oh a bunny!

But it was the gun pointed directly at Shazbut's head that truly commanded his attention.

A gunny bunny!

Why does everyone want to shoot me?

Shazbut asked, "So what's your hare-brained scheme?"

Bad Bunny cocked her head, a vicious spreading across her cute little bunny face. "Oh, really? Hare-brained? That's rich, coming from a stinker who got himself blown up. I'm Bad Bunny, and this diamond-filled van is my ticket to a life of luxury. No little stinker like you is going to stop me!"

Shazbut giggles. "You use the stinker joke twice. You'll get skunked if you don't think of new jokes. Forget about the diamonds, give up, there's hop for you yet."

Bad Bunny shouts "THE CARATS WILL BE MINE!" And she unloads a scream of bullets.

: Bad Bunny.png (193.12 KiB) Viewed 6566 times

Shazbut's body vibrates to an intangible state, shimmering and translucent. The hail of bullets, meant to end his life, passed harmlessly through him. Bullets slam into the asphalt, sending sparks flying and leaving small craters in the road.

Unimpressed, Bad Bunny reached into her jacket and pulled out a grenade. It was this very weapon that had blown Shazbut from the sky. But this time, he was prepared. Shazbut's form began to shift, morphing into a dark, black nothingness. His body, once solid, appeared as a void. Yet, within this darkness, tiny stars twinkled. With a focused thought, he extended his power, manipulating the air around him, creating a vacuum. The very essence of life, the oxygen, was sucked away, leaving Bad Bunny struggling to breathe.

Bad Bunny, in desperation, tossed the grenade. But Shazbut, with a swift movement, caught it mid-air and hurled it over the edge of the bridge.

As Bad Bunny gasped for air, she reached into her Armani jacket and extracted a device. It was the size of a phone, but when she pressed it, a blinding flash of light erupted. In an instant, the world around them shifted.

Suddenly, they found themselves underwater, the once familiar cityscape replaced by an underwater expanse. Shazbut, caught off guard by the sudden teleportation, struggled to resurface. He coughed and spluttered, water filling his lungs. Ew salty! She has a teleporter?

Bad Bunny, however, was more at ease. She kicked to the surface, and then took in deep breaths of fresh air.

Shazbut recovered his senses and flew to the surface, breaking out of the water and hovering a few yards above the water level. He scanned the area, searching for any sign of Bad Bunny. There! A sleek speedboat, sleek and black, was floating nearby. He could see they were now underneath the Bay Bridge.

Bad Bunny was already in the boat, her expensive Armani suit now a sodden mess. "You ruined my suit!" she shouted, her voice filled with rage. With a roar, she gunned the engine, and the boat surged forward, away from Shazbut and towards the city shore.

Shazbut, with a burst of speed, easily outflew the speedboat. He hovered above it, a flying voidy space skunk! I could use shockwaves to destroy the boat, but ... I no want to kill the Bunny lady. He hesitated. Maybes, deep down, she can change?

They were a scant hundred yards from the shore when Shazbut positioned himself directly in front of the boat, blocking its path. Bad Bunny, seemingly defeated, killed the engine. In her hand, she clutched the teleportation device, a smug look shone in her eyes. "You lose, Skunk," she sneered. "I'm too close to the shore. One press of this button, and I'll be gone. You'll never find me."

Shazbut shrugged nonchalantly, a playful smirk on his face. "Got time for a song?" he asked, his voice light and airy.

Bad Bunny's eyes widened in shock. "What?!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with disbelief.

"Yes yes. Then I'm off to Grandma's. I hope she has cookies."

Without waiting for a response, Shazbut began to sing, his voice carrying across the water. That voice is smooth as velvet. "♫♪♪ When you do the bad, your soul is overwhelmed. You get that weight there on your chest, and it’s going to hold you down. And all the demons from your past say you’ll always be the bad guy. Well, you can stay there in that mess, but darlin’, you were born to fly ♪♪♫"

Bad Bunny stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. "What are you, some kind of singing crazy?" she scoffed. "You’re delusional. Or drunk!"

Shazbut smiled, his eyes twinkling. As he sang, illusions flickered into existence, depicting a different version of Bad Bunny. She was kind, compassionate, and selfless, helping those in need. "I'm not drunk as a .. well.. skunk," he giggled, half his mind playing with illusions, and the other fixed on the teleportation device. At least she no vanish... maybe I cans reach her?

Shazbut continued, his voice growing more powerful, and resists the urge to wiggle his bottom provocatively. "♫♪♪ So fly away, my dear, up to the golden sun. Crime is no real career, you were made for love. The fear it whispers lies, but let the truth ring clear. You are stronger, love. You are stronger than your fear. You are stronger than your fear!♪♪♫"

Bad Bunny rolled her eyes. "Is this going to take all day?" she grumbled, checking her watch. The device, soaked in saltwater, had ceased to function. She swore under her breath, frustration evident on her face.

Undeterred, Shazbut continued his song, hoping to penetrate her hardened exterior. "♫♪♪ Don't let the dreams you used to hold crumble at your feet. All the bad things that you don't control, yeah, they'll haunt you in your sleep. Oh, you'll want to hang your head, you'll want to go run and hide. Oh, but darling, lift your face up, lift it up to the morning sky ♪♪♫"

Bad Bunny couldn't take it anymore. "Stop! Stop! Stop!" she pleaded, raising a hand to silence him. Shazbut paused, a look of hope in his eyes. "Okay, okay, you convinced me," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "I'll be a Good Bunny."

Shazbut's face lit up. "Really?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with joy. He was about to do the Happy Dance of Joy.

Bad Bunny chuckled. "No, of course not!" she said, a mischievous glint in her eye.

What happened next happened very quickly. As Bad Bunny pressed the teleport button, a surge of power coursed through Shazbut. With lightning-fast reflexes, he unleashed a gravity wave, a force that pulled her back towards him. For a brief moment, she was suspended in mid-air, a look of shock and disbelief etched on her face. But then, she vanished, disappearing into the fabric of space and escaping.

However, the gravity waves tore away the something that wasn't well secured on her person. It tore loose from her belt and fell into Shazbut's waiting hands. A small, black pouch, filled with the stolen diamonds, landed softly in his palm.

Shazbut's eyes widened in surprise. "OooOOo!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with wonder. With these diamonds, I can... But then, a sense of goodness prevailed. He didn't want all the bad things in his song to be burdening him. "Well," he said, shaking his head. "You shiny things will have to go back where you belong."

Though Bad Bunny had escaped, she had failed in her mission. The diamonds, the prize of her heist, were now safely in Shazbut's possession.

Shazbut promised himself to return them promptly.

I never says that!

Promptly. Right?

.....

Shazbut · Post by **Shazbut** » Sun Nov 03, 2024 3:24 pm

Chapter 4: Dimensional Demon Menace

The Bay Patrol boat rocked gently on the waves as Shazbut recounted his encounter with Bad Bunny. The officers, seasoned veterans of the sea, listened with a mix of disbelief and fascination.

"So, you're telling me," one officer began, "that a rabbit, dressed in a suit and sunglasses, tried to rob a jewelry shipment on that bridge?"

Shazbut nodded, a delighted smile upon his lips. "That's right. A very stylish rabbit, with very nice looking sunglasses. She had a teleporty phone and blipped from up there to down here, where she had this speedboat. But then she blipped again to the shore before I could catches her. She's not much of a music fan so be careful."

Our skunky hero handed the pouch of diamonds to the officer. "These I grabbed from her before she blipped away for good," he explained. "Are the diamond guard guys alright?"

The officer, still stunned, took the pouch and nodded. "Yes, hit with some sort of knockout gas. I'm told they'll be fine. But how did you manage to stop her?"

Shazbut shrugged. "Bit of luck, and a whole lot of skunky power," he replied happily. "You wanna see?"

The officer instinctively put a hand over his nose and shook his head so vigorously Shazbut thought his head might fall off. "No no! Definitely not! Thank you!"

Shazbut giggled, and then an otherworldly sensation washed over him. A blinding light enveloped his form, and an odd, familiar sound—the crinkling of chip packets—echoed in his ears. In an instant, he was hurtled through the fabric of reality, a cosmic journey across dimensions.

He materialized in a scene straight out of a fantasy realm: a very royal and opulent court of .... Whatever in the world could that be? He couldn't quite believe his eyes, but there he was. And it could only be one thing.

"The King of the Potato People!" he exclaimed.

Indeed, the King of the Potato People stood before Shazbut. Surrounded by other sentient vegetables in opulent garments, the alien skunk found himself the center of their attention.

The King, a majestic figure with little beady potato eyes that had not yet sprouted roots, regarded Shazbut with an expression the skunk guessed was a mixture of curiosity and skepticism.

: Potato King.png (234.1 KiB) Viewed 6421 times

"Are ye sure this critter is the ane?" the King asked his Royal Magician, Russet. "He hardly looks like a veg’table champion, why, I doubt there’s any starch in him at all!"

Russet, a wizened potato with a twinkle in his seven eyes, chuckled. "Oh, yer Highness, appearances can be deceivin’. This peculiar bein’ is a mammal, a creature unlike onythin’ in oor realm, and ane o’ the maist deadly mammals mentioned in oor library o’ knowledge. He is the key tae oor salvation! He is destined tae defeat the Demon o’ the Deep’ and his army o’ Potato Mashers, restorin’ peace tae oor realm."

With a dramatic flourish, Russet pointed at Shazbut. "The fate o’ the Potato Kingdom rests in yer paws, mighty skunk."

Suddenly, the entire castle shook terribly, and a crashing sound echoed from outside. A potato guard burst into the royal chamber, his little spuddy face a mask of fear.

"Sire! The Demon! It is HERE!" he gasped.

"Not a moment tae soon!" the King exclaimed. He turned to Shazbut. "Go forth, mighty skunk, and slay the demon!"

Shazbut, looking thoroughly confused as anyone who gets summoned into a fight by a careless wizard, asked, "Errr, what kinda demon? Is it a breakdancin’ insect dancin’ demon? I’ve dealt with those ones before!"

"No laddie, this be a Demon o’ Deep Fryin’! The Bane o’ Potato Folk!"

Well... that makes sense.

The wizard, standing by the window, pointed out and shouted, "Look!" Shazbut sped to the window at super skunky speed, eliciting a gasp from the King.

There was the Demon of Deep Frying. A huge mechanical beast, with great red eyes, a body that was a vat of flaming oil, and coiling tentacles that looked like power cords. It was capturing Potato People in the city, hurling them inside itself, making very crispy-looking fries. The smell was amazingly delicious, and Shazbut fought the urge to drool and look for salt.

: Deep Fryer Demon.png (256.37 KiB) Viewed 6421 times

Shazbut, with a determined look in his eye, leaped out the window. He soared through the air, a blur of black and white fur. As he neared the towering demon, he executed a graceful climb, soaring above the creature's menacing form.

From high above, he unleashed his secret weapon: a torrent of the most potent, most disgusting skunk slime imaginable. A verdant waterfall of foul-smelling goo cascaded down onto the demon's oil vat.

"What are you doing!?" the Demon roared, its voice a mix of rage and disbelief. "My beautiful Hydrogenated Vegetable oil! My high trans fats are spoiling... my heart-clogging rancidity... changing. Aargh!"

From the castle balcony, Shazbut heard a ragged cheer as happy tubers celebrated.

Then, Shazbut focused his gravity waves, lifting the Deep Fryer Demon high off the ground. Amplifying his skunky voice, he thundered, "Where is water?"

A dozen potato folk pointed toward a vast lake a short distance away. Shazbut flew towards it, the demon writhing in agony as its cholesterol-laced, oily blood was poisoned by the skunk's stench.

As Shazbut flew toward the water, he sang a victory song for all the Potato Folk to hear.

"♫♪♪ Skunk power, it's strong and true,
Saved the day, for me for you.
A stinky hero, a furry friend,
Forever a tale, it will never end.

Oil and grease, a potato plight,
Super skunk, with super might.
So let's celebrate, a victory won,
The Demon of Frying, forever undone. ♫♪♪"

Once above the lake, he released the demon, sending it plummeting into the cool, clear water. The demon hissed and sputtered as its precious frying temperature plummeted. The oil hardened into lumps, and its red eyes dimmed. The Demon of Deep Frying was no more.

Later, in the royal court, the King of the Potato People thanked Shazbut profusely. "Ye hae saved oor realm, mighty skunk. Ye are a true hero."

Russet, the wizened potato magician, chuckled. "Weel, it seems oor wark here is dune." As he said this, he cracked open a bag of chips.

"How you can eat potato chips? It is cannibalism!" Shazbut asked, quite shocked.

"Potato chips? What a horrible thocht!" the wizard laughed nervously, "They wouldn’t taste guid at all, I bet! These here are baby human haggis chips. They’re great!"

Shazbut made a face and was about to disagree, but in that instant, Shazbut was whisked away, transported back to the familiar grounds of Omega HQ.

Shazbut · Post by **Shazbut** » Mon Nov 04, 2024 9:29 pm

Chapter 5: A Sticky Situation

This is a crossover into the current scene playing in Palladium Fantasy here. Enjoy.

Shazbut, content after his inter-dimensional adventure, and the battle with Bad Bunny, now found himself in the familiar grounds of Omega HQ. He headed straight for the kitchen, intent on a simple sandwich. But fate had other plans.

In the pantry, a delicious packet of Kettle Chips, decorated with a tantalizing image of crispy, golden potatoes, caught his eye. A wave of hunger washed over him, along with the memory of the Potato Kingdom's hearty, starchy delights. With a shrug, he reasoned, "The King of the Potato People will never know!"

So he tore open the bag, and the rich, salty aroma filled the air. He hopped into the lounge area, and settled into a plush sofa. With a remote in hand, he began to channel surf. The commercials, with their catchy jingles and vibrant visuals, were his favorite part. He sang along, oblivious to his surroundings, or anyone hoping to watch an actual show. For the little black skunk, the commercials are the show!

It seemed to be that a relaxed day of television and chips was nigh. He grinned happily.

This is the best!

Suddenly.... a blinding flash enveloped Shazbut. It was accompanied by the familiar incantation of a magical spell. With a sigh, he looked around, searching for the culprit. "Seriously?" he muttered. "Can you gives me just 5 minutes?!"

Once again, he was hurtled through the cosmos, a skunky hero thrown about by forces beyond his control. As he hurtled through the void, he frantically stuffed potato chips into his mouth, crunching loudly.

"If the Potato King is calling me back, he can't see me with these chips!" he said with his mouth full.

It would have been wiser to discard the chips, but they were simply too delicious. Besides, a skunk doesn't waste good food.

Suddenly, Shazbut appeared not in the royal court of the Potato King, but in a dense, steamy jungle. The air was thick and heavy, filled with the sounds of battle. He ducked instinctively as a massive bear lunged at his head.

Scanning his surroundings, he saw a colossal female warrior, her body composed entirely of marshmallows. She was engaged in a fierce battle against a horde of bears, five of which already lay defeated at her feet. Yet, she was clearly struggling.

Hovering above the fray was a blindingly white, energy-based being. The Albino. It is an almost ethereal figure, with piercing, white-like eyes, which was unleashing beams of destructive energy at the Marshmallow Warrior. Then he stopped, and turned to Shazbut.

: The Albino 300px.png (234.78 KiB) Viewed 6380 times

"Strange, I had wanted to summon a Shadow Beast. What are you?" the energy being looks at Shazbut with a detached curiosity.

Shazbut, his mouth still full of chips, mumbled indistinctly, "I'm a Space Skunk! Even better. Don't tell the Potato King I'm eating these things." His words were garbled and incomprehensible, lost in the business of crunching and munching.

The Albino glanced at the Marshmallow Lady as she savagely punched another bear, breaking its spine. The creature howled pathetically before being replaced by another, equally ferocious beast.

"Space Skunk," he commanded in a voice devoid of emotion, "Kill that Lady, and then hunt the ones who summoned her, and slay them. You may eat the bodies, but bring their treasures to me. Then you may return to your home dimension."

Shazbut stared at the Albino, a look of disbelief on his face.

He wants me to kill the lady made of marshmallows, and eat the people who made it? He's the nut! And not a good one, like a cashew.

"You sures I not supposed to eat the marshmallows and kill the people? What kinda villain are you? Anyways, both plans aren't very skunky if you asks me."

Then the Albino's will, amplified by powerful magic, pressed into his mind, attempting to bend him to its will.

Shazbut, however, was no ordinary skunk. He possessed a mental fortitude and affinity that belied his diminutive fun-loving stature. He resisted the intrusion, his mind fighting off the Albino's psychic assault.

"No," Shazbut replied, his voice firm. His green eyes narrowed, and the skunk did something he does rarely. He frowned. With a surge of power, he shifted into Void Form, his body dissolving into a swirling vortex of darkness. The Albino's eyes widened in surprise as he realized the true nature of the being he had summoned.

With folded arms, the skunk added, "Not even if you says pretty please with a big juicy cherry on top."

The Albino attempted to return Shazbut to his home realm, "Then I dismiss—" but his words were cut short. Shazbut unleashed a devastating Void Bolt, a blast of pure, dark depressurisation energy. It tore through the air, striking the The Albino. He gagged as the very air was torn from his lungs. In response he fired twin bolts of white hot energy from his eyes at his skunky foe. Shazbut dove sideways, barely avoiding it, and it struck the Marshmallow Warrior Woman.

She had been oblivious to the skunk's presence, and was continuing her fight against the giant bears. The Albino's energy blast caused a cataclysmic explosion, destroying the golem and sending a wave of gooey marshmallow in every direction.

He thought for the second time today. Why does everyone want to shoot me?

Shazbut, covered head to toe in sticky sweetness, yelped in shock. "Oh no!" he exclaimed, his gaze falling upon his beloved fedora, now irreparably ruined.

"You ruined my hat!" he said as he stared at the sugar drenched fedora hat.

"So what? It was a dreadful bore of a hat!" The Albino said it in a mocking tone.

The skunk turned to the Albino, who was still shaking off the effects of the depressurization bolt. "You ruined my hat!" Shazbut repeated, his voice filled with a rage that seemed to shake the air about them. It was an unnatural deep tone one would not expect from a little skunk. His dark void form pulsed with anger, and was really quite disturbing to see.

The Albino, undeterred, fired another blast of white-hot energy. However, Shazbut, was now in an intangible state, and partially protected. The energy passed through him, leaving only a faint sting. This only fueled his anger and boiled his blood.

" --==**{ YOU RUINED MY HAT! }**==--" Shazbut thundered, his voice amplified by his mastery of sound waves. The roar tore through the surrounding jungle, terrifying birds and shaking the foundations of the nearby keep.

The Albino, sensing the growing threat, unleashed another barrage of energy blasts and Shazbut felt pain. In response, the alien skunk used his own psychic abilities to seize control of the Albino's arm.

"PUNCH!" he commanded, his voice filled with authority. The Albino's arm, now under Shazbut's control, formed a fist. The Albino strained, trying to regain control, but the limb just hung there, awaiting Shazbut's command.

"What are you.." The Albino said in a small uncertain voice.

"NUTS!" Shazbut added, and the Albino's eyes rolled back in his head as his own fist swung down and connected with his precious albinic organ.

The marshmallow-covered bears, witnessing the bizarre spectacle, decided discretion was the better part of valor. They retreated into the dense jungle, disappearing into the undergrowth.

Now Shazbut was alone with the Albino. The strange energy being, yet still somehow solid, now lay helpless on the ground, his form battered and in obvious pain. Only the possessed arm still moved with unflinching vigor. With each swing, the Albino inflicted more pain upon himself. Silently, Shazbut watched, with a strange mix of pity and satisfaction.

Bad man. No ever mess with my hat again. I hopes the dry cleaner can fix it. Or somehow I find you again mister.

Finally, Shazbut's anger began to subside. He approached the fallen figure, his expression softening. "No more energy eyes," he said in a stern voice. The Albino, still dazed, nodded weakly. The possessed hand stopped, and the Albino seemed to regain control of it.

"Send me home. Now," Shazbut commanded.

With a flick of his wrist, The Albino dismissed his summoning, and everything around Shazbut seemed to melt away into a swirling vortex of energy.

Floating once again through the cosmos, Shazbut returned to his normal form, albeit still covered in sticky marshmallow goo. Knowing he was about to return to his lounge room, he activated his anti-gravity powers to avoid spoiling the couch.

Moments later, he found himself back home, floating above the lounge room, a sticky, marshmallow-covered skunk in a ruined hat.

He saw Eddie there. The base janitor, a short, rotund, and balding fellow with a thick salt-and-pepper mustache, was staring at Shazbut with a look of sheer terror. Eddie's veins bulged, and his eyes widened.

Shazbut giggled at the sight, "Ha ha! Sorry, sorry. Just got into a sticky situation. I go shower now." And with that, the marshmallow-covered skunk carefully floated towards his room, hoping not to ruin the floors in the process.

Tom Cassidy · Post by **Tom Cassidy** » Tue Nov 05, 2024 2:41 pm

Perception: 1d100<69: [58*] = 1
JIC: 1d20: [16] = 16 / 1d100: [33] = 33

Conditions:
- Force Field SDC: 3,000/3,900

Steiblah wrote: ↑Sat Oct 26, 2024 5:08 am"Again, begging pardon. But I was thinking of a... less conventional method of repairing the vehicles." Steiblah explains. As means of demonstration, he takes a piece of paper or fabric nearby, tears it, and then proceeds to restore it with magic ((Mend the Broken)).

"I understand that not all may be comfortable with the unconventional, but in spending time with Edison in the workshop, I very much wanted to see if my skillset was also suitable for repair and innovation."

Carla wrote: ↑Sat Oct 26, 2024 8:58 am"I was planning on having Gizmo see if he could repair the chassis of hovertruck Dawn Breaker took to the scene. I'm sure that he would appreciate your help Steiblah, your powers will save him hours of work in the machine shop. But the second hovertruck will need more significant work - proprietary parts that can't simply be mended, software checks, and who knows what else." Thinking about how complicated car repair has become she sighs, "It makes me nostalgic for my dad's El Camino."

Tom lets out a soft whistle at Steiblah's demonstration. "I've seen some rather handy spells cast in my time, amigo, but I think that might be among the handiest of all..." he looks over at Carla. "I suggest we let him try some of the more 'proprietary' parts while he's working with Gizmo. If he can restore those, then we can get the trucks back up and running without blowing the budget. It's an absolute win."

Shazbut wrote: ↑Mon Oct 28, 2024 3:12 pm"How long?" he muses, scratching his head. "Well, I've been around a bits, I suppose. I gots taken in by a Welsh Anglican priest named John Roberts, you could ask him!" He pauses, lost in thought. "I no remember the name of the church, it's somewhere on the Wind River Reservation. You can't miss it!"

"Let's see, when I came here was before the Rock and the Roll. Maple Leaf Rag was a new song! Or the Darktown Strutters' Ball." He giggles at the memories of early jazz and ragtime. "Now first thing I remembers was hearing some singing on the radio. But radio was sort of experimental at the times. They no sing much, not till afters. But in the church they sing all the time. I learns all the songs!"

Maple Leaf Rag? Radio an experiment? That would make it... "Are you saying you've been here on earth since the early 20th century? That's well over 100 years ago..." Tom muses out loud, then shakes his head with a laugh. "Well I can say you certainly don't look your age, Shaz. You must be our nigh-immortal super-skunk from space."

As the conversation dies down and everyone goes their separate ways, Tom stares at his bus pass for a few minutes. I mean, it’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard… and I do need to get a better idea of the city’s layout.

“Alright, Carla, you got me…” he says as he shrugs his shoulders. “Just don’t make me call it ‘a patrol’ – I’d never live it down if the SLJ get wind of it.”

((Short story interlude, which is incoming...))

Tom comes home at the end of the day from his bus route adventure to find a package waiting for him: the guitar he ordered. After unboxing, stringing, and tuning it, he starts looking for a place to try it out -- and finds it in the garden.

"Good evening, Maia..." he says as he walks out into the garden. "I hope I'm not intruding?"

Assuming the answer is in the negative (or even nothing at all), he clears his throat and finds a seat. "So I know you weren't all that eager to join us at the start... but I just wanted to let you know that I'm glad you did. With the jailbreak attempt, our fight with the Pollutioners, and down in the sewer with those... well, whatever they were... you've been a tremendous asset to the team. In fact, it would be fair to say that we couldn't have done it without you." He glances down at his now-healed arm. "It'd also be fair to say that some of us may not even be here right now if it weren't for you. So... thank you."

He puts the guitar across his lap and strums a few chords. "My dad was very fond of this one old song. He'd listen to it a lot after coming home from his shift. Said it helped him to relax. And whenever I look out here at what you've created, I like to think he'd love spending time out here too. So if you don't mind my sharing a little music with you..."

He starts playing and softly singing, and doesn't even try to fight or hide the occasional tear along the way.

I'm not crying, you're crying

Tom Cassidy · Post by **Tom Cassidy** » Tue Nov 05, 2024 2:49 pm

Tom stares at his bus pass for a few minutes. I mean, it’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard… and I do need to get a better idea of the city’s layout.

“Alright, Carla, you got me…” he says as he shrugs his shoulders. “Just don’t make me call it ‘a patrol’ – I’d never live it down if the SLJ get wind of it.”

A few minutes later, dressed in casual civvies (complete with dark shades and a ball cap pulled down low) and armed with a printout of Century Station’s bus routes and schedules on a clipboard, Tom ventures out into the concrete jungle. For the next several hours he rides along various bus routes, noting the locations of the bus stops and the travel time between each one. He also does a lot of people watching as passengers get on and off the buses, noting the particular demographics of each area (ethnicity/race, apparent wealth level – taking into consideration the notion that those who could afford ‘nicer’ transportation would likely be doing so – and so on).

Even though he largely stays focused on the task at hand, Tom’s thoughts inevitably wander back to his past affiliations with the SLJ and the Heroes for Hire. There was certainly no chance of ever seeing any of his companions with the latter again (barring some unforeseen dimensional travel), but his earlier joke about the SLJ comes back to haunt him. Sure, only Fitzgibbons and a few bigwigs at S.A.T.A.R. know he’s back from the proverbial dead, and he’s operating under a different code name with the Omegas, but several of his old star-spangled teammates are bound to hear about a ‘Barricade’ with very similar powers to ‘Rampart’ and put two and two together. He had already sent emails to Patriot and Eagle, of course, but maybe it’s time to reach out to others.

And one in particular. One that, quite honestly, Tom found himself especially reluctant to contact. Has she moved on? Well of course she has! She’s as gorgeous as she is strong – any guy in his right mind would want to be with her. And it’s not like I didn’t jump into that portal without checking on her… or saying goodbye… or even ‘be right back sweetheart, gotta go punch a dragon.’ If she were in her right mind, she would have forgotten all about me by now and gotten on with her life.

He sighs as he gets off at a bus stop in a less-than-affluent part of town. What’s that line? ‘You can’t run away, the past will be only too happy to chase you?’ If things were reversed and she jumped into the portal while you were knocked on your butt, I’d want to know if she had made it back even if I had moved on yourself. It’ll hurt, sure, but think how much more it’d hurt if she found out I was back through watching the news and not directly from me. I just might find myself on the receiving end of a Liberty Belle haymaker.

“HEY! LET GO OF MY GRAN! HELP, SOMEBODY HELP!!!”

The sounds of a scuffle around the corner snap Tom back to the here and now. He rounds the corner to see an elderly lady and her young grandson being robbed by a color-ganger punk with a drugged-out expression and a gun in his hand. Upon seeing Tom approaching, the punk draws a bead on the child. “That’s close enough!” the punk shouts. “Back off or the kid gets it!”

Tom calmly snaps his fingers and raises his hands. “Take it easy on him, Bruno. He’s just a dumb kid. There’s no need for bloodshed today.”

“I swear I’ll blow his freakin’ brains out if you don’t back off right now!” the punk scowls. “And my name ain't Bruno!”

Tom just grins. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

As if on cue, a semi-transparent grizzly bear made out of solid energy comes from seemingly out of nowhere behind the punk and slams him to the ground, sending the punk’s gun skidding across the sidewalk right towards Tom. He materializes a pair of energy gloves to pick up the gun by the barrel and walks over to the two would-be victims. “Are you two okay?” he asks as he helps them up to their feet.

When the grandmother nods, Tom gives her a smile and a nod. “Good, good. I’m glad to hear it ma’am. I’ll call CSPD and have them send someone to get a statement and to pick up this guy. They’ll make sure you both get home safely.”

He turns his attention to the grandson, who is just staring slack-jawed at the bear holding down the punk (who is groaning, cursing, and squirming to no effect).

“Hey mister!” the grandson looks up at Tom with a beaming expression. “That was totally wicked! How’d you do that? Are you a superhero? What’s his name? Is he your pet? Does he live with you? Can I pet him? Can I ride on him?”

Tom just gives the kid a wink and a grin as he puts a finger to his lips.

“Shhhhh,” he chuckles. “We don’t talk about Bruno – no no no!”

Shazbut · Post by **Shazbut** » Wed Nov 06, 2024 11:20 am

Chapter 6: Political Demons

Shazbut, refreshed and rejuvenated, settled into a plush armchair in the royal lounge. As he flipped through the channels, a familiar jingle caught his ear. It was the iconic Kit Kat jingle, a catchy tune that had captivated audiences for generations.

"♫♪♪ Gimme a break, gimme a break, break me off a piece of that Kit Kat bar! ♪♫♪" he sang along, his voice sonorous and joyful.

In his hands was a delightful bowl of M&Ms. He was happily sorting through the candies, picking out the blue ones, one by one, and gobbling them up.

Suddenly, a news broadcast interrupted his commercial jingle sing-a-long time. The familiar tune of the Century Station News theme song filled the room. He hummed along with the tune, but as soon as the music stopped and the talking heads appeared in a live studio broadcast, things were a lot less interesting.

Shazbut groaned, "Boring!" and tossed an M&M at the television screen. The candy bounced off the glass, striking the image of a politician mid-sentence.

The politician, a rather pompous-looking figure in a poorly fitting suit, started droning on about economic indicators and fiscal policy.

"Inflation has been tamed. Consumers are spending like crazy. Companies have more jobs available than job seekers to fill them. Thirty-seven thousand million dollars have been generated. The blue-collar worker is the person who benefits. People should listen. Even aliens benefit.."

Shazbut chuckled. "Who cares about that? Play the song!" he mumbled through a mouth full of M&M's. He wondered how many he could fit into his mouth at once.

Unperturbed, the political talking head continued, "Even alien skunks should listen. Even if they're bored on a Thursday night, watching the CSN report. Even you, Shazbut!"

The boring CSN News Studio scene was replaced by a nightmarish vision. The screen was filled with apocalyptic imagery: dark, stormy skies, crumbling cities, and armies clashing in brutal combat. The sounds of war filled the air - the thunder of cannons, the clash of swords, and the mournful cries of the fallen.

Shazbut, unfazed by the chaos, simply raised an eyebrow. "Well, this is getting better," he admits, reaching for another M&M.

"Are you listening, Shazbut? I'm coming for you, Shazbut. I'm coming for you ...." and demonic laughter resonates through the room.

"Who are you? Whats do you wants?" asked the skunk with a mouthful of chocolate goodness.

The demonic politician snickered, "Look at yourself: sitting there watching the CSN Report with your candy. That's totally pathetic, man."

"But I didn't wants to watch it!"

The demon, still framed within the television screen snarled, "Yeah – the McDonald's commercial. That's what you wanted. The McDonald's 'I'm lovin' it' jingle!! What next? You gonna really go wild and watch the Liberty Mutual Insurance advert?! Oh dear me, man, that's rad. That's sick. That's mad!" He ended with a sarcastic tone that went completely above Shazbut's head.

Shazbut compulsively sang a line from the insurance commercial, "♫♪♪ Liberty, Liberty, Liberty ... Liberty! ♫♪♪"

The demon's eye twitched, and he took a different tact. "I can help you, Shazbut. I will guide you to a life you deserve! You could be rich beyond your dreams. Power! Money!"

"Boring!" Shazbut interrupted, and threw another M&M at the set.

"Shazbut, everyone needs power; everyone wants power; and, let me tell you pal, no one likes people who don't want power! Shit, buddy, if I told didn't crave power I'd get my ass kicked so quick – the whining fat demon supervisors I've got to put up with, feeding em ninety percent of everything I take from others because they are so lacking in brains or guile or wit they couldn't take candy from a baby; the prodding, prating media hypocrites, believing their own spin and hoping someone else stumbles, whilst dressing up their small mindedness as some great standard of press freedom when all they're doing, like everyone else, is working in a factory for their master! Don't you tell me you don't want power, Shazbut you little fool, because if you don't want power you're the first prick I've ever met on this whole stinking sewer of a planet that isn't greedy. We're all greedy, buddy. We're all greedy deep down in our guts where we hunger for the better life! The life we deserve!"

Shazbut shook his head. "Sounds really... boring," he explains. "I mean, I like my life. Got plenty of food, lots of friends, and the best naps in my own room and everything."

The demon in the television scoffed. "Foolish!" it hissed. "You could have anything you desired!"

Shazbut grinned. "Well, all I wants is to hear the Rice Krispies jingle. 'Snap! Crackle! Pop!' Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna change the channel. Bye!"

He pressed the button in his remote, and everything changed. Suddenly Shazbut blinked, and was quite disoriented. The hour was very late. He looked down at his hands, still clutching the empty bowl of M&Ms. A thin stream of drool had trickled down his chin, staining his pristine Omega suit.

He must have dozed off, lost in the rather real dream. The once frightful demon in the television screen now displayed a static-filled image, with no indication of the CSN broadcast having happened.

Shazbut chuckled, shaking his head. It was time to face reality. He needed to go to bed.

So he stood up, stretching his limbs. As he walked towards the his quarters, he couldn't help but wonder about the strange dream. What did it mean? Was it a warning, a premonition, or simply a product of his overactive imagination?

Sinner-G · Post by **Sinner-G** » Fri Nov 08, 2024 12:07 pm

(RP only)
Gideon wold prefer to travel under his own power, it would get him places faster. Busses average less than 25 mph, especially if they make frequent stops. He can literally run faster, but since he is out of uniform, he is not supposed to be going around displaying super powers.

Not that all his powers are something he can really elect hot to use, Gideon reflects as he stands in the bus, Most people do not realize the downside of having super senses. I can hear every heartbeat, breath and stomach gurgle. I can smell every unwashed body and what everyone had for breakfast. I can smell...hmmm, what is that?

Gideon looks around for the source, That is a scent I am no likely to forget. I worked with explosives before, and they trained me to recognize the scents of all common explosives after they discovered how my sense of smell was changed.

The sense of smell is not very directional, so it takes him a minute to locate the source, while other people curse his pushing is way through the bus.

There, that duffel bag under the seat. There is enough C-4 there to do a lot more damage than just wrecking this bus. I do not hear a timer, so it is probably set to a remote detonator. Whoever left it here must intend to set it off someplace spectactular. They must be watching from someplace for the bus to reach whatever point they have in mind, probably at the mass transit terminal. Whoever put it here may still be on board, so I will have to do this fast...

As the bus comes to a stop Gideon grabs the duffle bag and leaps through the door over the heads of those trying to enter the bus. Rolling to his feet, while still clutching the bag, he thinks, Right, if the person who had the bag has a remote detonator on them ans is still on the bus, they will try to set the bomb off as soon as possible. No ponds nearby when you need one, I guess I will have to do this the hard way.

He shouts, "Everyone, stand back, there is a bomb in this bag." He then rips open the bag and looks over the wiring.

Fortunately it is a fairly simple device and he is strong enough to break the wires with his bare hands.

That averts the immediate threat, but now comes the hard part, explaining to the police...

Diomedes · Post by **Diomedes** » Fri Nov 08, 2024 2:06 pm

It was the first day that Diomedes had felt nominally himself after having received another magical tattoo. The inflammation around the newly inked black sun was almost gone. No more loafing around Diomedes. It is time to get out there and take the bus that everyone is talking about.

Dawn's rosy fingers were struggling to push away the grey clouds of morning. Diomedes stood at the bus stop in his Omega Uniform. The small enclosure and bench were covered in graffiti while the roof was stained white with bird droppings. A faded poster was still in the frame. Diomedes could see that it was a man in some sort of power armor holding a flag. Above the man's head written in red 'The Omegas - Doing their part to keeping Century Station safe for everyone!' at the bottom of the image, Diomedes could make out the first few letters, 'Emp' but the bottom right edge of the poster had been torn off.

He tugged at the itchy fabric around his neck as he waited for the bus, well now the 10th bus. Each time the bus had stopped and door opened a person or two got on, and perhaps a few got off. Diomedes waited in front of the door, a broad smile on his face. Each driver had stared at him, lifted their eyebrows as if in a question, then frowned shook their heads and closed the doors before pulling away from the curb. This bus will be different, 10 is my lucky number.

This time around, no one was waiting to get on the bus with Diomedes. The bus drew close and stopped, and the door opened and Diomedes gave the driver his patented 'I know I am huge, but I am a gentle giant smile' and waited. The driver looked at him and raised her eye brows. But this time, the driver asked a question. "Well, what are you waiting for? Are you going to get on the bus or not?"

Diomedes looked at the woman and said, "I had to watch many videos on proper etiquette here in Century Station. One of them said do not get into vehicles with strangers. My name is Diomedes."

"Diomedes? I think I've heard of you. You helped save an orphanage or something right? Well, I am Dottie Harris, and this is bus 10, head down to the city center," she replies. She turned her head and pulled out a vape stick and took a long pull and blew it out the window. "Are you going to get on or not?"

Bus 10, I knew it! Diomedes thinks as he says, "Well, we are no longer strangers anymore." Diomedes steps on to the bus, his weight causing the bus to kneel, he shows the bus pass he had received from Carla. "I was told to show you this. Oh, I tap?" Diomedes ask as he sees Dorothy point at the sensor pad. "Thank you Dottie Harris."

Somewhere in the back of the bus, someone shouts, "Come on already, I am going to be late for work."

Diomedes puts the card back into his Omega pack at his waist and takes a step in to the bus and stops. The air smells of an industrial orange scented cleaner. He raises his hand in welcome and says, "Hello new friends, it is I, Diomedes. Today is my first day taking the bus in Century Station."

"We can tell, nimrod, just still down already," someone mutters.

Diomedes moves back into the bus, smiling at his new friends as he passes the first empty seat he moves towards it but the person sitting next to it says, "Can't sit here." When he gets to the next seat, the person moves to the middle and says, "Seat's taken."

Unperturbed, Diomedes continues his trek backwards and the bus pulls away from the curb eventually end up on the bench in the back of the bus. Settling in between a pair of tweens. "Well my friends, I am here to the end of the line." The pair, who may have been making out up to the point Diomedes joined them, separate and scrunch themselves up against the far sides of the bench.

As the bus comes to each stop, Diomedes stands up and wishes those leaving well, "Goodbye my friends, safe travels, perhaps we will see each other tomorrow!" and welcomes the new passengers on board, "Hello it is I, Diomedes. Welcome to bus 10. our driver is Miss Dottie. There are plenty of seats back here next to me. Oh, you found one up front, no worries. If you need anything, please let me know."

Eventually, a young man boards the bus, that Diomedes pays particular attention to. The man is dressed in tight fitting leather pants, a tie-dyed wife-beater shirt. Around his wrists and neck are spiked bands. His hair is dyed as well, half neon green, and the other half blood red braided close to his scalp. His shirt is cutoff and on his belly is tattooed in a calligraphy, the phrase: 'Suck deez nutz!' When he finds his seat, it is a backwards facing one near Diomedes. The pair look at each other and the man pulls out a small remote and a large speaker. He presses the button and loud obnoxious music emanates from the speaker. The bus echoes with the sound of badly played guitar and drums along with a hoarse voice screaming obscenities.

"Friend," says Diomedes, then again a bit louder, "FRIEND! You are making it difficult for the other passengers and Miss Dottie, please turn down the music." The man presses a button the small box and the music grows louder.

The man shouts, "It's a free country man! I got my rights!"

Sighing to himself, Diomedes pulls himself to his feet and moves towards the man causing him to shrink back giving Diomedes enough room to sit next to him and put his arm around his shoulders. With his free hand, Diomedes engulfs the man's hand holding the small box and squeezes it firmly but gently until it clicks and there is silence through out the bus. The man struggles to pull his hand free, but can't, "Hey man, let me go, you got no right."

Diomedes shakes his head, "Let us begin again. I am Diomedes, what is your name, friend?" As he says the last, he activates his beautiful dancer tattoo.

"Ge, George Jones, my friends call me Georgie." Georgie says.

"Georgie? Excellent, friend Georgie. What stop do you plan to get off at?" Diomedes magically prompts him.

Georgie struggles to get his hand loose from Diomedes' grip. "The courthouse, I've got to report for jury duty today. Ain't no way they going to get me to be on no jury."

Diomedes nods, "I will let you know when we get there. Your eyes look heavy. You must not be sleeping well. How about you take a nap? Don't worry, I will keep you safe." As Diomedes speaks the young man begins to blink his eyes, each time his eyes stay closed a fraction of a second longer. Georgie stops struggling to pull his hand out of Diomedes grasp. After a minute, Georgie's head drops and he begins to snore.

Diomedes looks up to see the rest of the bus passengers looking at him. He holds up his hand to his lips and shushes them. They all look back and give a golf clap as to not make any noise. Grins and smirks fill their faces.

As the bus continues to make its stops and people get off, they wave or give a thumbs up and are on their way.

The wheels on the bus go round and round.

Dawn Breaker · Post by **Dawn Breaker** » Fri Nov 08, 2024 4:13 pm

On Sector 10: "I agree with Barricade. The bus passes might not be the most thrilling option for the moment, but it's still better than having to ask Director Berry for a favor. It never feels like he's actually helping us out when he offers something. Hopefully with Steiblah's help we can have one truck back before midweek."

"Who said asking him? CSPD and sector both seize vehicles. Anyway, police vehicles are usually full of bullet holes. Pretty sure you don't have the budget for the bodywork if you can't get spares of those hover trucks to keep around here. Your not the only ones. Sector manages to keep spares because of the budget so its not a complaint" she shrugged as she left. as she starts to her room a a comm opens in her ear. it was her mentor. The one and only Harry Houdini. the only Super soldier/Magician she Dawn knew. There were stories about another pair called Penn and Teller. All rumors and sources called them 'eccentric', but reliable.

"I heard about the change in travel. take the 17 in 1 hour in civilian attire and leave the Omega suit at home." then it ceased. with a shrug she left to a bus stop waiting. 20 minutes later she was on a route connecting to the 17. It was not hard to miss her contacts. They sitting on bench seating. Not only was Eric Wiez there as she expected, but he was with Nikola Tesla. Dawn was tempted to ask how many times he walked around the bus before boarding it and grinned. After a minute or two Tesla sent a text to her telling her to get off at the next stop.

I wonder if he guessed what I was going to ask? I wonder if I will need to walk around a building three times before entering it? the woman thinks as she looks. It was what she expected. Overcrowded, and noisy. two of the things she disliked about most people. Dawn missed the old days of a 'cluster' of 5 clones. Even if mark 5's were attention sponges and kicked way harder than soccer players.

Once off of the bus at a park The magician and Tesla took a spot at a chess board she took a seat beside them. One of Century Station initiatives to encourage youth into smarter thinking. The electronic chess boards has lit up images of the pieces instead of physical pieces. It was also sponsored and made by the BBMR for other reasons. The chess stations also had comm and bug jammers. the two started a game. Tesla began..

"I hear you lost the glider and laser rifle. You know we can not replace them? They were one of a kind." Tesla gave her a look then looks back to the board and makes a move.

"At least You are attempting to track them down. even if it is near impossible task. I taught you to not do the impossible?" Wiez looks at the move tesla made then responds with out a moments waste of time. Dawn was too stubborn for Weiz's personal taste, but the two got along well and he did have her best interests at heart. There was a mutual respect between the pair.

"Its a start." Tesla states with a look at Dawn for her reaction, "Gear gets lost or destroyed often. Its not why we are here. I wanted to ask about your assignment. Going well?" he asks making a move in response, "Mate in 7 moves. Clemens opens with that. He rarely lasts 6 moves, magician." he smirked

"They seem to have their hearts in the right place. A few are what I would not call hero material. Probably there to avoid putting them in Gramercy or spare the city collateral damage to trying to confine them. Like our terminator program is to reduce waste. Waste not want not." Dawn adds trying to justify the notion of using a bunch of borderline prisoners as public heroes.

It does have the advantage of keeping them in the public eye. there was that. Dawn thinks to herself.

"There is a few I actually think I could get along with. and two are on the run from another agency or company like ours. Oh and one is a bounty from S-6 I think. I recommend continuing the op with Chimera." Dawn states as places her hands together. Tesla gave Magician a look and nodded handing her package.

"It is out of the think tank, a set of clothes and your usual gear. Hoodie, pants and such. Also a shot to update your Implant." Tesla answers before Dawn could ask what it did. with a look it was indeed a new suit. Hers was getting old and took some damage from the that fight with Sinistry's stoneman.

"You are to stay on the team for now until your superiors say otherwise. We will do what we can about your van. Any thing else? " Magician finished with a nod of approval, "Maybe you can do some good after all."

"Perhaps some upgrades? I was thinking the windshield and windows could be a the solar panels for any electronics or Surveillance gear on or in it. Batteries to hold power when there is no sun. Hover vans are a bit obvious for surveillance work." she asked with a look to Tesla to see his response.

"I will see what I can do. no promises. be safe out there." he say with a nod and encouraging tone. Then pauses and grins as he makes his seventh move check mating with a grin. "And check mate in 7." Wiez looked at the board, then to Tesla with nod.

"Yes, be safe. oh and Catalyst says 'hi' . she is with team four. they are trying three MK10's. I'll put your name in for a spot?" he looked to her as an air car parked near by.

"Definitely. It will be nice to see my kin...others like my self again." she answers with a smile thinking of the days in Bluecove.

"good to hear, have a nice ride home." Magician says as the two board the air car and leave.
Three MK10's? are things that rough out there? Dawn ponders. With that takes the bus route home with her new gear.

Edison · Post by **Edison** » Fri Nov 08, 2024 6:23 pm

Perception: 1d100: [16] = 16 /56%
Just in Case: 1d20: [5] = 5 ; 1d100: [12] = 12
Conditions: None.

Maia wrote:"HELLO. WELCOME. BE. DEFERENCE. APPRECIATE."

Marcus sits down. "It's a lovely garden. Makes me think of the badlands I used to live near. A haunted wild, with a history of violence... but still very beautiful." Marcus says thinking on the wilds just outside his hometown of Deadwood. Marcus just quietly sits and communes with the garden, effectively touching grass as some folk would say. After a few hours of relaxing, Marcus gets up. "Goodnight Maia, it's been a pleasure."

Marcus sleeps a deep sleep before waking the next morning to put some repairs into his suit, and tweaking a few systems for some more optimization.

Build/Modify Armor 1d100: [82] = 82 /97% (To make repairs)

All in a days work

Edison chuckles at the idea of riding the bus even though he does own a personal vehicle. Figuring it is another positive publicity stunt cooked up by his bosses, Edison decides to go along with it. Edison dons his suit and makes his way to the nearest bus stop, checking the information for times and directions on his armor's built-in computer system. Ok, need to take this bus down to the hub, and from there catch this other one, so I can get where I need to go. Edison thinks as he also considers where he's going. Bits and Bytes is in Everett, I should be able to get some components. Worse case I could maybe head to Hideyoshi Motors in Midgard if they don't have them. Edison thinks as a bus pulls up. Pulling his bus pass from his pocket, Edison climbs on. "Morning..." Edison kind of shrugs. "budget cuts." Edison finishes with a chuckle at the obvious look of bemusement by the bus driver. Edison finds a seat and sits down for what he estimate to be a several hour trip.

Edison, takes time to answer questions by those around him, playing the part of down to earth super hero. All the while roughly keeping an eye on where the bus is at. As the bus begins to pass a particularly large intersection, Edison notices a bunch of police and fire truck down one way. Well that can't be good. Edison thinks as he pulls the stop cord. I guess shopping can wait. Edison thinks with a smirk. Stepping off the bus, Edison looks to the driver. "Thanks for the ride." Edison hustles up the street to the emergency vehicles. A patrolman doing perimeter goes to stop him, but pauses. "An Omega. You here to help?"

Edison nods. "Happened to be passing by, saw a commotion and decided to see if I could help." Edison says before the patrolman waves him through, a few moments later Edison was in the presence of the officers running the operation. "There is a woman up there with enough hardware to take on a small army. She keeps threatening to blow the building if we don't bring a Doctor Milard to her. Thing is, according to the database Doctor Milard died a few days ago, but she won't believe us. We've been waiting on C-Swat, but they have a super brawl on their hands right now." The police lieutenant says. Edison nods. "While I'm not C-Swat, I think I can help. Armor is about a tough as a tank, so I think I could take the heat. Has the building been cleared?" Edison asks. The fire captain to his left nods. "She didn't seem to care even." The Captain says.

"Alright then, I'll see about defusing the situation." Edison says as he shifts his portable shield to his arm. Should be able to take a few shots. Edison thinks as he heads into the building. The signs of energy weapons damage is noticeable as soon as Edison makes it through the front door. "What floor?" Edison asks as he approaches the stairs. "Fifth, south east corner of the building. With an unseen nod, Edison begins hoofing it up five flights of stairs, the damage becoming more prevalent and more localized as he nears the target area. As Edison nears the corner where the woman is, he hears sobbing. "Stupid contraption..! Why won't you stop?"

"Why won't what stop?" Edison replies while hiding behind his shield. "GO AWAY, I DON'T WANT TO HURT YOU!" The woman yells. Edison gets his first glimpse of her, a woman covered in cybernetics and bionics, obviously struggling to keep some manner of weapon system on her arm shut. "Do you need help?" Edison asks. "I need Doctor Milard, he screwed this up and now I can't control whatever this is!" The woman yells. "The doctor can't make it. I can help if you'll let me get closer." Edison says.

"What do you mean he can't come..? Where is he?" She asks. "He's been detained. I promise I can help you." Edison responds. "Please help me!" She finally relents. Edison approaches, cautiously, still behind his shield. "So you're having issues controlling a weapon system?" Edison asks. "I didn't even know it was in there." She responds. Edison shakes his head. Black Market cybernetics.

"Okay, I'm gonna hook this diagnostic cable, and I should be able to find out what's wrong." Edison says unspooling one of the cables from his custom computer. "Please hurry it's getting harder to hold this closed." The woman says, obviously straining against her unruly arm. Edison quickly plugs the cable into a jack in her neck and begins running a diagnostic. "Just hold still for a few more moments." Edison says in a calm voice as he begins pouring over the data. Okay what is the problem... where are you... oh, that's it I think. Edison thinks as he finds the unruly subsystem, a few simple commands shut the laser down. "Okay that solves the immediate problem, gimme a few more seconds." Edison says as he sets some new parameters, effectively bricking the lasers subsystems. Would need a total overhaul to work again. Edison thinks as he pulls the cable. "Okay laser deactivated, you should be fine now." Edison says. "Oh my god..." The woman says as she drops to her knees and starts sobbing. "It's going to be okay, you're gonna be in some trouble, but I think you're strong enough to get through it." Edison says before switching on his radio. "Situation solved, need EMS." Edison says before sitting down next to her.

The next hour is a blur as Edison writes his report and deals with the general paperwork of his job. The woman is taken to a nearby hospital to be checked on, before Edison clear of his responsibilities gets on another bus to finish his trip. All in a days work.

Post by **CHIMERA** » Wed Nov 13, 2024 9:26 am

Act IV: Closedown
Omega Base, 616 Grayson Street, Retropolis
Date: Wednesdday, April 29th, 2043
Time: 12:00 pm
Weather: Partly cloudy day (63 degrees Fahrenheit)

The Omegas have saved the day, but at what cost? Truth be told, Carla doesn't want to discuss the budget with the Omegas. She's paid the moderate-but-not-enough-for-the-hours-that-she-puts-in bucks so that the heroes don't have to worry about these things. Still, with both hovertrucks out of commission, Steiblah insists on helping out. Carla agrees to let him help on the hovertruck that can be repaired at the Omega Base. However due to a lack of space and the necessary tools to replace highly technical parts, the other is taken back to Avtran's Century Station factory.

The following day, the Omegas roster on the base is shaken up. Red Sable hops on a bus and takes out of Century Station's city limits to an unknown destination to never be heard from again. But that afternoon, Diomedes and Jeremy return from their special assignment. Shaken from receiving his new ink, Diomedes needs the assistance of Trent and at least one of the Omegas to get to his room and rest.

Jeremy is debriefed on the vehicle situation and given his bus pass. He also points out that the Purples broke his truck's windows while he was on assignment. "I'll put a work order in for that," Trent says. "Gizmo and Steiblah can fix that after they have one of the hovertrucks up and operating."

Over the next few days, the Omegas take advantage of their bus passes and get into some entertaining shenanigans*. In every case, the heroes successfully prevented crimes and raised the profile of the Omegas in the city.

Meanwhile, Steiblah and Gizmo go about repairing the hovertruck. Gizmo appreciates the help, and he finds the reformed demon's company to be absolutely pleasant. However, he does have the odd habit of making the sign of the cross any time Steiblah walks into the workshop.

Much like the last time, most of the damage to the hovertruck was to its door. Between the machine shop and Steiblah's powers, it takes less than a day to rebuild the door and its hinges, and just another to have it properly installed. Repairing the drive train is a little more complex since there are two different systems controlling the wheels: one to turn the wheels like a normal truck and another to lift the wheels when the truck is flying. Using telemechanics one day, Steiblah sees that replacing one of turbines that lifts the hovertruck is even more complicated. Its parts are more complex and include several powerful computer chips that he cannot replicate with his powers.

By Wednesday morning Gizmo is willing to say that the truck is clear for driving. At noon, Carla calls the group in for a team meeting. Once everyone is assembled, she makes some big announcements. "Due to recent turnover, we found it necessary to reorganize our Alpha and Bravo squadrons. This is something we didn't want to rush given the influx of new members, as well as our sudden departures."

"Barricade will remain in charge of Alpha. His squadron will include Dawn Breaker, Maia, Shazbut, and Sinner-G."

"After a strong recommendation from Barricade, Edison will take charge of Bravo. His team will consist of Diomedes, Jeremy, and Steiblah."

WHAT ARE YOUR INTENTIONS?

* Public Transit Contest Results
Black Haunt's vote: Edison (+1 MGP)
CHIMERA's vote: Barricade (+1 MGP)
Underguard's vote: Shazbut (+1 MGP)
Judge's Consensus Choice:: Diomedes (+1 MGP)

Sinner-G · Post by **Sinner-G** » Thu Nov 14, 2024 2:36 pm

Perception (56%): 1d100: [32] = 32
JIC (d20/d%): 1d20: [12] = 12 / 1d100: [87] = 87

Omega Base, 616 Grayson Street, Retropolis
Date: Wednesday, April 29th, 2043
Time: 12:00 pm
Weather: Partly cloudy day (63 degrees Fahrenheit)
Gideon is finally finished the paperwork involved in the bus bombing incident and is glad that the team seems to still accept his presence. He is happy to hear that they managed to repair one of the two Hovertrucks though, he would rather not ride the bus very often as it is an assault on his senses.

When they are called to the meeting at noon, he is not sure if he is quite as happy. Splitting the group into two teams is logical, as most things they encounter will not require the full force of a team this large, but it also means that only one team will have access to the transport. He gets the feeling his team may be the one not using the truck. He has no problem with Dawn Breaker or Barricade. He is not sure about the Skunk-like being who claims to be an alien, though he is clearly quite powerful. The Plant Giant seems uncomfortable around him, he gathers she is some kind of nature spirit, and his powers being entirely unnatural appears to

bother

her.

The Alpha team is clearly powerful, and capable in a wide variety of areas, that means they are highly likely to be sent to handle powerful threats. Gideon hopes that he will be able to hold his own. He thinks, Never would have thought I would wind up as the least powerful person in a group, but that sees to be the case with Alpha team.

As has not yet been asked to give opinions or ask questions, he waits.

Dawn Breaker · Post by **Dawn Breaker** » Thu Nov 14, 2024 11:17 pm

Perception: 1d100: [86] = 86 / 39%
JiC d20 | d100: 1d20: [16] = 16 | 1d100: [98] = 98

Carla wrote: "Due to recent turnover, we found it necessary to reorganize our Alpha and Bravo squadrons. This is something we didn't want to rush given the influx of new members, as well as our sudden departures."

Perhaps they should give the omegas a stint in basic military training? Learn a thing or two about how casualties and fatalities work?

Eh, I am just here for sector and not to be a hero. Hell, I agree with Archimedes has a point. like most rules there are exceptions. perhaps hope for people yet? the mutant though as the comment was said by Carla.

Carla wrote:"Barricade will remain in charge of Alpha. His squadron will include Dawn Breaker, Maia, Shazbut, and Sinner-G."

At least two are three of us able to take the job seriously. The resident pit bull and the skunk are probably going to be more trouble than helpful. Here is hoping I am wrong. At least with Maia, we have a heavy hitter so that is good. Maia is not a big fan of humans. That is something I can understand. or is that my inner Tesla instincts? the clone thinks and looks to Sinner G and nods.

SinnerG wrote:As has not yet been asked to give opinions or ask questions, he waits.

"Looks like were on the same team, SG. Lets try and keep an eye out for each other. That seemed to work out well in the prison. Deal?" she says standing beside him, "and I could use a partner for my weekly CQB and breaching practice courses." She added.

Sinner-G was pretty good company. Barricade was decent as well. The man seemed pretty straight forward for the most part.

"Barricade. you run any training sessions or drills I need to be aware of? I already have Door breaching/CQB, Evasion and Paintball once a week with the company I work with during day. I can change the days for those if there is Omega training or practice." She says to Barricade looking to him for an answer.

Maia · Post by **Maia** » Fri Nov 15, 2024 3:07 pm

JIC: 1d20: [5] = 5 , 1d100: [65] = 65
PER: 1d100: [87] = 87 vs. 76%

Maia finds herself in the unusual situation of being almost popular. When Edison arrives, while she doesn’t know the quiet man well she senses a kindred spirit, and is happy to permit him to partake of the garden for as long as he likes. Barricade’s later arrival is even more welcome. The more who learn respect for The Life, the better.

Tom Cassidy wrote: ↑Tue Nov 05, 2024 2:41 pm"Good evening, Maia..." he says as he walks out into the garden. "I hope I'm not intruding?"

In tree form, Maia slightly gestures one branch towards Edison and replies (in what, for her, is a warm voice) ”NO. WELCOME. BE.”

Edison wrote: ↑Fri Nov 08, 2024 6:23 pm"Goodnight Maia, it's been a pleasure."

When Edison leaves, Maia shakes her branches again. ”YES. RETURN. WHEN.”

Tom Cassidy wrote: ↑Tue Nov 05, 2024 2:41 pmAssuming the answer is in the negative (or even nothing at all), he clears his throat and finds a seat. "So I know you weren't all that eager to join us at the start... but I just wanted to let you know that I'm glad you did. With the jailbreak attempt, our fight with the Pollutioners, and down in the sewer with those... well, whatever they were... you've been a tremendous asset to the team. In fact, it would be fair to say that we couldn't have done it without you." He glances down at his now-healed arm. "It'd also be fair to say that some of us may not even be here right now if it weren't for you. So... thank you."

Maia’s branches shake in appreciation. She is not often thanked for what she does- out-of-balance animals tend mostly to flee. After a moment to settle her surprise, she says, ”WELCOME. BE. WISH TO. SLAY. MORE. DEFILERS.” You’ve never heard such a kind-sounding would-be mass murderer. ”WHEN. LEAVE?” She queries.

Maia is likely to miss the memo for the team meeting, and even if she doesn’t she is even less inclined to create a body for the occasion. With maintaining her energy form being so difficult, Maia opts to stay in her tree. She assumes that one of the others will inform her of anything relevant to her interests- notably the when and how of killing more humans, and notably not leadership hierarchies or org charts. Should anyone inform her of the new team structure, she will shake her branches in acknowledgment but only repeat the question ”WHEN. LEAVE?” She will, however, spare it a moment’s thought. The friendly one. The singing one. The brazen one. And the new one. Amusement and puzzlement war within and eventually come to a draw. Should she be presented with Sinner-G’s machine, she will dismiss it as unnatural and thus out of her purview. Another one of the humans’ little devices. I bet it smashes real good. She will remain in her tree until summoned for a mission, at which point she will begin creating a new body for herself.

Shazbut · Post by **Shazbut** » Sat Nov 16, 2024 11:19 am

JIC: 1d20: [17] = 17 , 1d100: [99] = 99
Perception: 70% / 1d100: [16] = 16 (SUCCESS)

Shazbut, a creative soul who simply cannot sit still, spends the morning immersed in his artistic pursuits. Armed with a variety of art supplies and a stack of high-quality art paper, he goes about drawing series of Omega-hero team inspired logos. He experiments with different styles, playing with different colors, imagery and symbols. Some designs were bold and striking, while others looked like a bad acid trip. As the morning wore on, Shazbut's enthusiasm grew, and he found himself particularly captivated by a few of his creations.

Art 67%: 1d100: [30] = 30 1d100: [16] = 16 (SUCCESS)

With the meeting time approaching, Shazbut carefully gathers a few chosen designs, eager to share them with the team and gauge their reactions.

Maia wrote: ↑Fri Nov 15, 2024 3:07 pm Maia is likely to miss the memo for the team meeting, and even if she doesn’t she is even less inclined to create a body for the occasion. With maintaining her energy form being so difficult, Maia opts to stay in her tree.

If he sees Maia not present, the little skunk hops over to the garden and fetches the giant arboreal killing machine.

"Hey Maia, we haves the meeting. Maybe big plans for stopping the badmen. And, I have a present for you! Come come!"

CHIMERA wrote: ↑Wed Nov 13, 2024 9:26 amOnce everyone is assembled, she makes some big announcements. "Due to recent turnover, we found it necessary to reorganize our Alpha and Bravo squadrons. This is something we didn't want to rush given the influx of new members, as well as our sudden departures."

"Barricade will remain in charge of Alpha. His squadron will include Dawn Breaker, Maia, Shazbut, and Sinner-G."

"After a strong recommendation from Barricade, Edison will take charge of Bravo. His team will consist of Diomedes, Jeremy, and Steiblah."

The alien skunk, listens intently as the new team structures are announced. A skunky mix of emotions flicker across his face.

Ooh Barricade is officially the boss man, he thinks.

He is also pleased to remain in Team Alpha. A grin spreads across his face. Alpha was the team he'd always been a part of. Feeling excited, he fist pumps at the ceiling, and enthuses, "Yeah! Alpha is number one!"

When folks looks at him, he merely shrugs. "It literally is, isn't it? In the Greek?" He chuckles.

Then Shazbut turns to his new teammates, and a wide grin spreads across his face. "Oh, new buddies!" he exclaims, his voice filled with excitement. "We'll fight crime together, eat pizza together, we'll sing karaoke together!"

His eyes widen as the possibilities come to mind, "And maybe we could have a whipped cream fight!"

Once all the official talk is settled, Shazbut pulls out his art folder. Oh there's a proud grin on his face. "Check this out, team!" he exclaims, flipping through the pages. "I've been working the designs for our team logo."

Turning to Trent, he hands a page. "And this one's for you legal eagles!" The drawing shows the Omega symbol with Lady Justice.

To Maia, as promised, he hands a piece of paper. "I thought I'd branch out and try this!" He chuckles. "Alpha is the beginning yes? So I puts the Treemendous tree with the sunrise of the morning."

"Then I only haves time for two more, so I try something Alpha red and something very American Pie."

OOC: The page is refusing a 4th image, keeps crashing... so I might have to include it in a separate post that follows.

"Where did that last one go?" He wonders as the PBP site refuses to load his attachment.

"Ah ha!" Shazbut finds it. (OOC: Using my Mr Rogers account seems to have worked).

Jeremy Lancaster · Post by **Jeremy Lancaster** » Sat Nov 16, 2024 8:13 pm

Perception: 1d100: [2] = 2 /30%
JIC: 1d20: [2] = 2 / 1d100: [78] = 78

Once given his bus pass and told of what happened to the hover vehicles he just nods as he looks over the card quickly, feeling not very affected as he has his own transportation, currently very well ventilated or not. "Windows don't take long. I can wait."

He heads off to handle the injuries he knows he can feel, but not entirely sure how much properly broke skin; the bitter-sting of the joy buzzer being the dominate one he feels.

As for the next few days, Jeremy does as he usually does; not be in the way unless his name is specifically said, one morning spent from not long after he gets up and leaves his room to near eleven fishing, not even that concerned with size that day and time, taking pictures of the particularly neat catches before setting them free once more.

Fishing: 1d100: [80] = 80 /70% More to see how large of specimens he lands before releasing than to see if he's successful at hooking anything.

Wednesday, when everyone is called in for a meeting and hears of team makeup and the introduction of new members to the group he has a thought for himself and greeting for others, With the furball? We'll see how that goes. "Hi new people."

"I think so? ...Yeah." He answers Shazbut's question to as to Alpha being the first letter of the Greek alphabet. The alien skunk's excitement is soon followed by, "Gettin' little excited there."

Sinner-G · Post by **Sinner-G** » Sun Nov 17, 2024 4:21 am

Dawn Breaker wrote: ↑Thu Nov 14, 2024 11:17 pm
Carla wrote:"Barricade will remain in charge of Alpha. His squadron will include Dawn Breaker, Maia, Shazbut, and Sinner-G."
At least two are three of us able to take the job seriously. The resident pit bull and the skunk are probably going to be more trouble than helpful. Here is hoping I am wrong. At least with Maia, we have a heavy hitter so that is good. Maia is not a big fan of humans. That is something I can understand. or is that my inner Tesla instincts? the clone thinks and looks to Sinner G and nods.

SinnerG wrote:As has not yet been asked to give opinions or ask questions, he waits.
"Looks like were on the same team, SG. Lets try and keep an eye out for each other. That seemed to work out well in the prison. Deal?" she says standing beside him, "and I could use a partner for my weekly CQB and breaching practice courses." She added.

Sinner-G was pretty good company. Barricade was decent as well. The man seemed pretty straight forward for the most part.

"Barricade. you run any training sessions or drills I need to be aware of? I already have Door breaching/CQB, Evasion and Paintball once a week with the company I work with during day. I can change the days for those if there is Omega training or practice." She says to Barricade looking to him for an answer.

Gideon replies seriously, "Keeping an eye on each other is what team members are supposed to do, it is a major part of teamwork. The idea of specific training for common situations is sound."

He studies Shazbut's artistry thoughtfully, while he comments, "Alpha and Omega, the first and the last. Not necessarily a good omen, as that combination has been used to mean a doomsday weapon."

He adds, "The artwork is not bad. Generally variation in symbols indicate something, such as different divisions or different ship crews."

Steiblah · Post by **Steiblah** » Sun Nov 17, 2024 7:10 am

-----------------------------------
Perception: d%: [79] = 79 | 81%
JIC: 1d20: [2] = 2 | d%: [100] = 100
-----------------------------------

Conditions

Steiblah's efforts at repair are a little frustrating to him but he dutifully finishes the work as requested. He had hopes of being able to repair mundane technology using his mystical arts but finds that the two are not quite as compatible as he originally assumed they would be. Instead, he is left to reflect on perhaps how he might be able to tinker technology to alter or amplify his own innate abilities. Perhaps lean into channeling his psychic abilities toward something else altogether.

((Long term, considering MGP expenditure to pick up Mega-Power: Super Genuis Inventor <= R37 p.19))

CHIMERA wrote: ↑Wed Nov 13, 2024 9:26 am"After a strong recommendation from Barricade, Edison will take charge of Bravo. His team will consist of Diomedes, Jeremy, and Steiblah."

Steiblah nods at the team assignments. Though he did not know Jeremy well and Diomedes has a fundamental distrust of his nature, he knows that he has been able to work as an assistant to Edison before and is comfortable under his leadership. Looking at the alternative, Team Alpha, the reformed Raksasha understands that he has even less rapport with the members of that team. So the assignment is quite sensible.

Jeremy Lancaster wrote: ↑Sat Nov 16, 2024 8:13 pmWednesday, when everyone is called in for a meeting and hears of team makeup and the introduction of new members to the group he has a thought for himself and greeting for others, "Hi new people."

Not one to forsake a greeting as Good Guy Steiblah, the reformed Raksasha replies, "Hello to you also. I am Steiblah." Good Guy Steiblah

Pivoting his gaze between Carla and Edison, he asks the burning question, "Does that mean we have another assignment lined up for our respective teams?"

Dawn Breaker · Post by **Dawn Breaker** » Sun Nov 17, 2024 9:16 am

Jeremy wrote: "Hi new people."

""Hey, how are ya?" she replies with a nod before the big speeches happen. He seemed social too. That was three people she could put up with.

Sinner G wrote:Gideon replies seriously, "Keeping an eye on each other is what team members are supposed to do, it is a major part of teamwork. The idea of specific training for common situations is sound."

"Great, I'll add that I am bringing a friend? The company will pay for it. Its a big company so you may want provide your own gear. They tend to get the standard stuff only and not the good field medic armor. that stuff is pricey for non-BBMR staff." she nods and turns back to Barricade. the idea of having a buddy was good. In all that training for breaching they said bring a friend. Now if the mark V's don't scare him away... she thought.

"Not bad, I can adjust my usual patches to fit that if you use them." Seeing the insignia she was deciding if it was a bit over the top, but she was also a black ops operative so flashy was not her preferred method. Still they looked good.

Edison · Post by **Edison** » Sun Nov 17, 2024 10:51 am

Perception: 1d100: [90] = 90 /56%
Just in Case: 1d20: [15] = 15 ; 1d100: [8] = 8
Conditions: None.

When Edison is summoned by Carla for a mid-afternoon meeting, he heads up as soon as he can and finds a seat to listen to the boss lady talk.

Carla wrote:"Due to recent turnover, we found it necessary to reorganize our Alpha and Bravo squadrons. This is something we didn't want to rush given the influx of new members, as well as our sudden departures."

"Barricade will remain in charge of Alpha. His squadron will include Dawn Breaker, Maia, Shazbut, and Sinner-G."

"After a strong recommendation from Barricade, Edison will take charge of Bravo. His team will consist of Diomedes, Jeremy, and Steiblah."

Edison nods. "Thank you, I hope to do the position proud." Edison says to Carla, before looking to Jeremy, Steiblah, and Diomedes. "We should have something resembling a group meeting in the next few hour I think. I'll let you know the details in a few minutes." Edison says to them as a group, before waiting for the meeting to end. Well not surprising i got the job after what has transpired, here's to hoping i don't mess it up. Edison thinks as he considers a good time and place for a quick meeting. Might as well be here in the war room in like two to three hours. Not like I have much to say except a quick hello and a brief note about myself for them. With his mind set, Edison forwards a message to Bravo Team, stating just that.

Code: Select all

Meeting in the War room, 3 pm.

~Edison.

With the message sent, Edison makes his way to the kitchen to eat lunch and wait to meet the others.

Once the appointed time comes about, Edison finds himself waiting in the War room for the other. Once they're all gathered, he'll speak up. "Thank you all for coming, this will be brief. My name is Marcus, My callsign is Edison, and I look forward to working with all of you to bring some peace to Century Station. If you have any questions, I would love to answer them." Edison says to the collected team.

Once all the questions are answered. "Thanks for meeting with me, I guess we'll here when we have some sort of mission to take care of soon enough." Edison says, effectively dismissing them to do as they want till Carla or Trent call on the team once more.

Diomedes · Post by **Diomedes** » Mon Nov 18, 2024 11:06 am

Perception: 1d100: [36] = 36 vs 41% +30% vs Vampires/Undead, +20% Demons/Monsters
JIC: 1d20: [3] = 3 , 1d100: [79] = 79

Diomedes walks into the team meeting half undressed. He is in his Omega Uniform (is the Omega uniform a unitard?), his upper half bare exposing his tattoos on his arms and torso. The top half is either hanging loose or the arms tied in a makeshift belt. His hand is absentmindedly massaging the new tattoo. Ah, new tattoos are always itchy. He swings his arms to loosen the muscles as he moves around to find his seat for the meeting.

Lost another one? Well, at least she didn't say there was another death. He looks around and sees that Jeremy is still present. Good, I am glad to see that he is not the one who has run off. His eyes continue to scan the room until he spots Steiblah. His nose crinkles a bit. If he had just left, I would have been forced to track him down, though I am not sure what I could have effectively done if I'd caught him.

Diomedes speaks up when the new teams are announced, nodding in agreement. "I concur with this decision. This is good; friend Jeremy and I have already work well together. I look forward to friend Edison's leadership." Diomedes makes a point not to look over at Steiblah, "And, where Steiblah goes, I should go as well." He taps the table a couple of times to keep attention on him. "Although, we would do well to recruit more psychics and mages to be a part of Alpha squadron."

Steiblah · Post by **Steiblah** » Thu Nov 21, 2024 1:30 pm

((rolls carried over))

Edison wrote: ↑Sun Nov 17, 2024 10:51 amOnce the appointed time comes about, Edison finds himself waiting in the War room for the other. Once they're all gathered, he'll speak up. "Thank you all for coming, this will be brief. My name is Marcus, My callsign is Edison, and I look forward to working with all of you to bring some peace to Century Station. If you have any questions, I would love to answer them." Edison says to the collected team.

An open-ended offer like 'If you have any questions' is perhaps a bit dangerous to someone with Steiblah's feline curiosity. And so he brings up the main question he had ever since lack of finances was mentioned.

"How is Omega funded? I am concerned that if the organization does not have finances appropriate to repair or replace equipment, perhaps its fundamental existence might soon be called into question. Has the organization suffered political blow-back lately? Like perhaps either pariah status or maybe there has been a chance in the leadership of the city? The title is 'Mayor' right? And new political leadership wishes to go in a new direction?" Steiblah inquires. Then thinks that he needs to explain further.

"It's just..." Steiblah isn't sure how to rationalize experiences from his past life, so instead of hiding or sugar-coating it, he takes the opposite tact and is bluntly honest, "When clever demons are confronted with do-gooders, it is often not necessary to engage in primary combat with them. Instead, it might be more expedient and thorough to dampen or eliminate the heroics by starving their livelihood. And so one manipulates the political landscape. If there is a new political agenda in place, then it might not be much longer after the funds dry up that the organization is then disbanded. Demoralized and underfunded heroes are easier to defeat or bypass than organized and well-funded ones."

Diomedes wrote: ↑Mon Nov 18, 2024 11:06 amDiomedes makes a point not to look over at Steiblah, "And, where Steiblah goes, I should go as well."

The Atlantean remains mistrustful of me. Understandable.

Steiblah smiles politely in Diomedes direction. But the 'polite' part morphs a moment later. Targeting for a moment of levity that will likely instead risk the slayer's wrath, the reformed Raksasha can't help but take a playful poke at the hero, "Duly noted. I believe my bladder is full and will need to relieve myself at the conclusion of this meeting. Shall we make the toilet date official?" He offers the Atlantean a Cheshire cat grin.

Edison · Post by **Edison** » Thu Nov 21, 2024 2:01 pm

((Rolls Carried Over))

Steiblah wrote:"How is Omega funded? I am concerned that if the organization does not have finances appropriate to repair or replace equipment, perhaps its fundamental existence might soon be called into question. Has the organization suffered political blow-back lately? Like perhaps either pariah status or maybe there has been a chance in the leadership of the city? The title is 'Mayor' right? And new political leadership wishes to go in a new direction?"

Edison nods at the question, his tongue working the edges of his mouth to think of how to best answer the question. "I believe, and it's possible I am wrong, that OMEGA is funded by government funds. I can see where you have concerns, and I would say to not stress too much on it. The issue with replacing or repairing the hover trucks is more one of red tape. Accountants are very diligent on where the money goes, sometimes to the detriment of efficiency. As for the city's leadership, there hasn't been a change recently. After the events known as Bloody Monday, the old mayor stepped down and a new mayor was voted in. But since then things have actually been improving." Edison says, trying to be helpful.

Steiblah wrote:"It's just... When clever demons are confronted with do-gooders, it is often not necessary to engage in primary combat with them. Instead, it might be more expedient and thorough to dampen or eliminate the heroics by starving their livelihood. And so one manipulates the political landscape. If there is a new political agenda in place, then it might not be much longer after the funds dry up that the organization is then disbanded. Demoralized and underfunded heroes are easier to defeat or bypass than organized and well-funded ones."

"I'm not sure if that is what is happening here, but there certainly is some sort of issue going on among the various agencies. But I won't start just slinging out conspiracies, because that's what got Bravo in trouble last time. Needless to say the previous team leader made some 'interesting' decisions that have put a few black marks on us specifically. We've been working on rebuilding our rep with social works and the such, so hopefully we're on the mend." Edison says, trying hard to not disparage the dead.