Zortel

Ooooh, give me a moment... I think it's somewhere among the Unity Tower thread...

Aha!

http://uk.boards.cityofheroes.com/sh...age=1&vc=1

Also, something for you to look at Ravenswing considering Annette: http://www.asexuality.org/wiki/index...tle=Demisexual

I'm a little bit actor, a little bit method actor, and a lot of the things about my characters come from a little known recess in my mind.

Let's take Cindersnap. I rolled him out of need for wanting a Fire/Fire blaster, came up with a costume, set him loose in PD. He started talkng to someone, bam, his backstory of being a troubled teen arrested and put on a rehabilitation scheme came out of nowhere.

He made friends, enemies, friends into enemies, enemies into friends, and soon I noticed the oddest thing happening. The character was chatting away with girls happily and flirting, but when it came to trying to flirt with them or getting interest, there was none. And he was rather interested in his male friends too. He got set up on a date, went home with her, then she just asked him if he was [censored].

He was shocked at first, thought about it, then came to the same agreement. Came out to his friends a while later (having talked it over with a Traditionalist Rikti in a rather fun story), made friends with some other heroes including Crimson Archer, who after having people tell him not to fall for the guy and keeping on wondering why, eventually did fall for him, and then things happened and he realised it was just a crush, fell for a guy his age who was a liberal Christian, took on students of his own, and things went from there.

I can try and sit down and plan a character out and thrash out his life story, but sometimes? Going with the flow and just chucking myself into RP works as well, and letting my characters hit the ground and start running.

Boring work also means I switch off my mind and let my charactesr interact. That's how I keep so many alts histories and activities up to date. Just getting them out of my head onto figurative paper is the tough part.

WTB Rooftop Hoverboard chase in Kings.

It's rather how I envisioned it. Now go, fight for diplomacy!

WoW is my Fantasy MMORPG. It's polished, slick, there's some fun quests in there, each class feels different, and while people can mock the kill x/get y quests (I know I do) there's some other real gems in there, especially in Burning Crusade/WotLK content. And I've never set foot in a raid and only done a couple of instances with friends.

CoH I play mostly for the roleplay and my friends now. Mission structure and play style never really changes too much between the classes in my view, other than leveling Defenders being more of a bore, and the lack of things to do in city zones make me a little eh about the game.

... D:

Okay, that's an awesome one of Zortel. Impressive shading!

Zortel's a CEO, or was, yes.

But she's also a hero. The first meet at GG was called for heroes in the city to get together and strike a blow against the newly formed Council. Afterwards, heroes began to congregate there to meet up, socialize and gain friends and allies.

Zortel doesn't go to GG as former CEO of ZorTel Industries. She goes as the Battle-Hardened, Armoured Zortel, a tech using hero and leader of the Unity Vigil.

T'was one reason for writing. Another was I wanted a change, and tried a few different things stylistically.

Ironically, while I -really- enjoyed writing this, seeing as I lost track of time completely, I think the things that made me enjoy writing it were detrimental to readers. One person noted that it didn't seem to flow as well as others I've written, which I could agree with I'm guessing, especially closer to the end.

Still, was nice to have an old NPC doing something, and nice to get a character out there (and give her a really big sword. )

((I think it's sods law, you know? The one story I don't send to anyone needs more proof reading, yet all the others that I have sent to people have just been commented on the story and no proof-reading errors ever pop up. :P ))

((Damn. Only just got this finished.

This is a tale of two women, Arachidamia of the Unity Vigil, belonging to Gideon, and Natasha Sheers, one of my NPC's of several years now. Doing what Damia does best. There's also more than a few Rocky Horror references in there for some reason, so... here is Mythos and Mayhem.))

11/11/08

It was early.

Ungodly early.

But as a reporter for the Paragon Metro, Natasha Sheers was used to having to make small sacrifices like a full night of sleep for her work. The twenty three year old already had her own column in the paper. Or did have, till the Editor pulled it for a particularly damning piece she did on the War Walls and the administration that keeps the 'ineffective prison walls running, less to keep invaders out and the populace contained'.

She waited on the corner of the small street in Talos Island's Chinatown outside the Hun Lo and Son Butchers, dressed in black jeans, brown leather boots and a thick sweater, with a long coat with a hood pulled up to try and ward off the chill. At the lower levels of the island, closer to the sea, the chilling wind you got from the coast was particularly biting. The addition of a cashmere scarf and lambswool lined gloves didn't give her a noticeable effect in warding off the cold weather. The cup of coffee in one hand certainly helped though.

It is by caffeine alone I set my mind in motion, It is the beans of the Java, that my mind acquires speed-

Natasha shuddered and tried to push the mantra out of her mind. Just another remnant of Paragon City University culture.

It had just gone half six, a glance at her watch told her. Natasha was hoping that the reason for her being up early would arrive soon. Tucked under an arm was her camera case and an A4 envelope containing some critical information. Hmong Tsoo fighting Warriors belonging to Actaeon, and stealing magical artifacts off them. What made this story more interesting, and thus more appealing to get in on the action with exclusive photos, was the fact that having had the information checked out, it seemed like the artifacts had 'Bad' written all over them on one side, and 'Lovecraftian' embossed on the other.

“Quicker than expected.” A woman's voice came from behind her, the hint of a smile with the words.

Startling a little, Natasha span round to see Mary Lewis, the aquamarine haired and firmly built fighter, looking at her with a slight smirk. “I don't half-[censored] these things, M.” Natasha replied with a shrug, peering over the top of her glasses at her friend. “And I thought I'd compare the exterior to the blueprints.”

Mary was dressed in... well, one could consider her outfit to be pretty normal for the City of Heroes. Dark red, form fitting leather pants with belted running across the legs, a thick belt with a Talsorian blade-hilt slipped into its 'scabbard', a matching leather bustier with buckles running up the middle, covered by a black trench coat. The tips of her bronze bracers could be seen, and a black diamond half mask was smoothed into her place over the middle part of her face.

She'd forgone the polished, winged headpiece and the shoulder pads on this occasion, but the MAGI-liaised ex-Warrior known as Arachidamia the Warrior Princess; Xena (but never to her face) and “Ohgodit'sherrunbeforesheAAARGH!”, cut an imposing figure. She regarded the reporter with her greenish-brown eyes before speaking.

“Remember your promise, Nat. If I say we bale, we bale.” She reminded her before sighing with a smile, holding her hand out. “What've you got?” She wasn't quite expecting Natasha to pass over the half drunk cup of coffee.

“Plain ol' Americano.” Natasha grinned, before going for the blueprints. She'd taken the liberty to make a photocopy, and then a second one that she'd scribbled notes on. Motioning her escort... guard... accomplice? Over to a small dip between buildings, she laid it down atop a barrel and took out her LED keyring.

“All this area outlined in orange is the storefront part. There's only one door in from the shop to the warehouse, though 'meat locker' might be a better term.” Natasha gestured, tracing a Ember Red painted fingernail across the diagram.

“Should be a secure one then.” Mary murmured, taking a sip from the cup.

“I've not seen anyone inside yet, so that's something. Round the back, the meat locker and warehouse proper I've marked out in yellow. There's a loading door to the rear of it, and there's this door here,” Natasha gestured to one facing onto a side alley, “Is our best bet.”

“Those will be close quarters if we have to escape...” Mary mused, before shaking her head. “I trust your intelligence though.”

Natasha's cheeks flushed a little from the prai- ... From the biting cold air. Of course.

“Only other thing I think we can add is that they brought all four relics in from a second hand UPS van. That's still round the back, so I can... uh, commender it to whisk them away if you think it's needed.” Natasha -felt- Mary's eyebrow shoot up before she even looked. “... Girl learns a few things growing up in a home.” She said, referring to the... commune, perhaps being the best term, of mutants she'd spent her teenage years with after she lost her family in the Hollowing.

“Especially when Isaac Anderson is involved, I suppose.” Mary said with an arch smile. The owner of The Pits, one of Paragon's popular Alternative and BDSM nightclubs and venues was a 'character'. Best leave it at that.

“You're not wrong there, Mary.” The reporter laughed. “So... are you ready?”

“Always,” Arachidamia nodded, her next sentence cutting off as she reached a hand up to touch a finger to her earpiece.

”Good morning Mary, this is BODICIA speaking.” The AI of the Unity Vigil said to one of it's veteran members.

“Morning Bodi. Something the matter?” Mary replied carefully. This wasn't a Unity Vigil mission, and after the zombie uprisings she had decided to spare telling MAGI that a gang had the artifacts that could bring Hell on Earth to... Earth. There's only so much excitement researchers and administration staff can take.

“I am sure you can answer that question accurately, Mary. I just felt I should let you know that, as your benevolent and loving OverAI, I feel it is my duty to set you up for the day to face any challenges it may bring.” BODICIA said with her usual bemused tone of voice. “A good hearty breakfast, fresh clean clothes, the morning newspaper of your choice... oh, and If you need it, I have a Class A Arcane Implement for you to use, ready to transport.”

“... I see.” Mary said. “I'll keep that in mind for if we need it. Class A, you say?”

“Class A. One from the vaults. If you need it. I just know you'll quiver in anticipation.” BODICIA chuckled. “If I have to send it, good luck.”

“Sure thing, Frank-n-Furter.” Mary laughed, removing her finger from her earpiece.

“Some days, M, some days I really worry about the company you keep.” Was all Natasha said, before tucking the blueprints away into her jacket and getting her camera to hand. “Shall we?”

-

Natasha smiled a little as Mary calmly jimmied the lock and let them in. The side alley was littered with the junk of 21st century life, trodden into the ground, and Natasha was rather relieved once they could get into the frigid room, not much difference in the temperature. Most of the chilled room was dominated by packing machinery and a motorized conveyor to hang carcasses from, and there was the undeniable scent of blood in the air.

Her finger found the shutter release button with practiced speed, snapping pictures as she followed Arachidamia through the warehouse, carefully edging round machines and avoiding the various implements and containers that littered there way.

“There!” Damia hissed, her hand going to her sword hilt. Set up not far from the shutter doors was the already grim and foreboding ritual site. Set at each cardinal position around a rough stone altar were several obsidian pillars, twisted and gruesome shapes and beings carved into the thick pieces. Something had carved runes and symbols into them, that had managed to take a dried-blood brown staining.

The eyes and the features on the pillar unsettled Natasha's stomach enough. The hung body of a young man, who had to be not even in his twenties, pushed her control to the limits. Working in the press in Paragon though... the sight of a body hung by his ankles like poultry, sigils daubed in ink onto his body and his throat slit, blood having ran out to soak the altar?

And they say TV violence desensitizes people.

Arachidamia tried her hardest not to shoot a reprimanding look back at her friend as she heard the click of the camera button, preserving the scene in digital. On the plus side, having photographic evidence to take in to her superiors would come in useful after this was resolved. Hopefully.

“You know I said the Tsoo were having a Fox Hunt last night?” Natasha whispered, keeping rather close to the warrior. “Those symbols... looks like this is the Fox.”

“You're good, Nat.” Mary nodded, having seen it before. The act of the Fox Hunt was, if possible, more barbaric than the blood sport. A member of the Tsoo considered it an honour and would volunteer for the role. For their enemies, being the 'chosen' one to be pumped full of Rage and released to be hunted by the gang members to be caught, beaten or worse? That was a nightmare.

“Do we-” Natasha went pale, gripping her camera tightly as she heard voices from the far end of the warehouse. Arachidamia heard them too, her eyes looking to her partner before flicking about the room. Trained senses pointed out that their escape was cut off...

“Hide, Nat.” Was all she needed to say, before leaping up into flight, her movement a mere fluttering flicker as she darted into the rafters to prowl.

Natasha moved back as quickly as she could without risking footsteps, jamming herself into the dark recesses between loading machines for the shutters, camera still to hand as she switched to film mode. Quality be damned, she was a story hound, but wasn't going to risk messing up and getting caught. Not with Mary watching.

Stepping out of the grove of carcases and engineering were the Tsoo. Ink-painted Hmong warriors, their flesh inscribed with magical inks to tap into the forces of magics of all varieties. Their number, costume and even the Eastern-style weapons they carried noting them as being fairly high in the ranks. Green Ink Dragons, Blue Ink Eagles, Yellow Ink Tigers and a pair of sakkat-wearing Sorcerers. The hint of red clothing could just be seen at the backs, and floating impassively behind the Sorcerers was one of their Ancestor Spirits, hovering between ethereal and prime planes ready to strike.

Knowing none of the Hmong language made understanding what they were saying a little tough, but she could definitely pick up the gist of it as she watched. They were pleased with themselves, observing their handiwork. They were waiting on someone... or something. And they were definitely- was that a flicker? The shadows almost twitched around the ritual site... No, it was just the light.

Distracted as she was, she jumped a little as new, hollow voice was added to the mix. Hooded and scarfed, the latest addition to the group had an oddly green tinge to his skin, and was dressed in a black gi and pair of pants, tucked into thick leather boots. One of the Death Moon.

She was just zooming in the camera when the machinery to either side of her grinded and screeched into life, drawing a startled scream from her as her jacket was caught in the gears, jarring her backwards before she got free. Natasha was in trouble now, she knew even as she tucked her camera somewhere safe, that it could still record even as she stumbled out towards the attention directed at her.

If they didn't kill her, Arachidamia's chastisement may just be even worse.

They grabbed her, pulling her in by her scarf and tugging her hood down as they argued amongst themselves and directed angry language at her. Was she a Warrior spy, or from another gang? Those were the kind of questions she thought might come up. One slapped her around the face, palm bound in bandages, before the Death Moon roughly shoved her back, snarling at her and from hist gestures demanding she raised her hands.

I can't do it, not with Mary watching, I can't risk her... but I need to give her an opening... just a little fire. I can do this. I can control it, not give in... The thoughts raced through her mind, trying to shove aside the primal desire to indulge in conflagration, to burn brighter and hotter and torch the men before her. Raising her hands slowly, she kept a grip on that need, that want...

The Tsoo stumbled back, rubbing at their eyes as a bright flash of fire sprung forth from the girl's hands.

“Kuv tsis pub koj ua li no, Outcast!” She heard the Death Moon shout out, a blast of darkness sending her tumbling to her feet as the chill nether energy rippled past her and hit the altar. Natasha scrambled back, trying desperately to shake off the cold numbness that had set into her limbs, even as Arachidamia dropped from above, Talsorian Sword surging into life.

She looked angry. She looked fierce. She looked intent. Natasha wasn't sure who Arachidamia was angry at more, her or them, but she knew one thing. There would be blood.

There was certainly groans and shrieks of pain going on amongst the crowd as she lashed out with feet, fists and her blade, searing energy strokes forcing the gangsters to drop their weapons, or rendering them incapable to. Sai and claws lashed out and darted in towards her, but Natasha watched as her friend shrugged off the wounds, starting to close up as soon as the blade left her flesh.

A Sorcerer, beginning to chant deeply was soon shut up as Arachidamia smashed the pommel of her sword into his face, before driving the edge of the crosspiece into the side of his head, felling him with a satisfying sound of collapse. Her teal-coloured blade of light sizzled against clothing and flesh, and another camera was already out of her jacket, in her hands and snapping away as she watched her friend fight.

Something was shouted in Hmong. And those that weren't down began to scrabble away. Too scared of Arachdamia to even think about fighting, so they ran from the... oily black tentacle lashing towards them.

The two women turned in horror towards the altar. The dark energies had empowered it, and the Ancestor Spirit had been lost to his descendants as he was dragged into the rift. Vicious looking tentacles were forcing their way out, forcing the portal around the stone open. Reaching out to drag more souls in.

“NATASHA!” Arachdamia shouted, her blade glowing brighter with her own magical energies as she tried to battle through the oncoming wave of tendrils and limbs.

Natasha had lost her voice, anything she wanted to say to Mary... just wouldn't come as she watched the villains who had been harassing her slaughtered and dragged away, finger clicking at the shutter release of her camera again and again on autopilot. The tendrils were starting to close in on her...

“Mary...” She whispered in fear. The malignant aura in the air sapped her will and drained her spirits.

She blinked. She felt warm again. There was the sound of screeched agony in the air after a slick sound of slicing. The tentacles around her spasmed before trying to grasp her again, that feeling of cold starting to set into Natasha once more.

But she saw it clearly, and she always would. That one image, that animation.

Blazing brightly with the energy of life itself, Arachidamia somersaulted through the air, hacking away at the incoming tentacles with a long blade that was almost twice the size of her, the long blade shaped like a knot at the crosspiece before the metal seamlessly blended into a long, curved blade. She held it as if it was nothing, lashed out with it as an extension of her own body. She wasn't one with the sword, it was one with her.

There was a sickening chunk, squelch and splatter in that order as the warrior princess brought the blade down in a mighty cleave, before gripping it in both hands to begin laying into the surging rush of limbs darting towards them. Her back was to the reporter, but she spoke calmly. Conversationally.

“I need you to buy me some time, Nat. You can do it... you know what you have to do. And I have to close this portal.”

“I can't, M... you know I can't control it, I don't want to hu-” She cut Natasha off.

“If you don't, this might get lose. You won't hurt anyone. Promise.”

“... You'll stop me, won't you?” Natasha asked, hauling herself to her feet as she found the strength to stand up, casting her coat back behind her.

“Always.”

Tiny flames flickered into life in Natasha Sheers' palms. She looked at them, drinking in the golden flicker lapping at her hands. Warm... hot... God it burns... oh God it burns and it feels... A broad grin spread across her face, the flames starting to embrace her. Her cheeks flushed with desire, even as her clothing caught flame and burned around her.

Some people literally are drawn to the fire.

Some rare few? They become it.

Arachidamia vaulted into the sky, taking flight with her trench coat billowing behind her, the sleeves having been torn off in the earlier fight to reveal her well toned and defined arms, and those bronze bracers that clad her forearms and wrists. Her sword lashed out in front of and below her, slicing effortlessly as she felt that bright fire taking the vanguard.

Natasha cried out in pleasure as she whipped out with tendrils of flame, striking elder demon beast, carcass and machine alike. The glowed. They simmered. They burned. Even the sound of her roaring flames encouraged her onwards to burn brighter, a broad grin on her face as she took deep pants of superheated air. She kept her end of the deal though, surging forth and incinerating any tentacles that tried to go after her friend.

As Arachidamia descended to the core, she saw the eyes of the Beast gaze up at her. Hungering and wanting for everything and eternity. Beneath the now floating, blood-soaked altar that coursed with demonic energies, a multi-toothed maw descended into the abyss. Mary Lewis felt it call to her, offer her all kind of sweet things. She spat at the deal. Literally.

With a final surge, Mary and her 'one from the vaults' weapon glowed brightly and plummeted, the sword piercing the stone and digging deep down into it. Through it, she could feel the change in exerted force as it cleared the end of the altar and descended into something best not even left to imagination.

A primal, anguished roar filled the Hun Lo and Son Butchers premises, shaking it to its foundations as the Beast writhed and squirmed its way back through the closing portal that brought it to this world, drawing the dark obelisks that had helped to summon it back through. Those dark, oily scaled limbs that didn't make it through in time quivered and twitched as the void winked out of existence, slicing them off neatly.

Despite the blade penetrating the rock fully, it seemed that the long sword had lost its blade to some abyss within the heart of the good sized chunk of rock, still stained red. A thick black ichor seeped out of the sides of the puncture in the top, slowly hardening as it trickled down the surface to a stop. Mary set the blade down, her arms trembling slightly from the exertion as she looked towards her friend.

Natasha was in a frenzy, a dangerous lust for fire causing her to incinerate all in her path, just wishing to watch one more thing burn, one more thing dance with life and energy.

“That's enough, Natasha.” Arachidamia stated, walking towards her. The blistering heat was countered by her regenerative abilities.

Natasha's chest was heaving as she took deep breaths, looking towards the now unarmed woman. Another one to burn, another one to set-NO Natasha gritted her teeth and shook the flames off herself, forcing herself back in control, gasping for air as she shut the fires off. She tried not to look around at the carnage wrought in the attack, fearing for another onset of her darkest cravings.

She watched as Mary stepped around the now naked woman and picked her coat back up, before stepping behind her to cover her shoulders with it. Trembling had overtaken the reporter, and she looked close to tears.

“It's alright, Nat.” She heard Mary say. “Your cameras are fine. We're fine too... that's a bit more important.”

Natasha Sheers started to laugh, the sobs of crying mixed in with it as she was overcome by emotion.

“Damia here,” Mary said, lifting a finger to her commslink. “BODICIA, can you get MAGI to send over a clean up crew, and a few of their Demonic Investigations Report members? We had a situation. It's averted now. Then we'll be needing two to teleport to the Tower when they get here. It's all over, Frank-n-Furter.” She chuckled, placing a hand on Natasha's shoulder to squeeze gently.

---
--
-

[u]And super heroes come to feast,
To taste the flesh not yet deceased,
And all I know is still the Beast is feeding.[u]

Fin.

Thank you, banter, fluffy stories and sad fluffy stories are the things I do well, with a tendancy to focus on the times that characters -aren't- heroing. The man makes the powers, rather than the powers making the man.

I can be cruel to my characters, and others, but... well, Ravenswing covered that quota. Some say I'm a little cruel for having Cindersnap's decline like that, but a guy can't run around at high speeds for so many years and not start to wear down. Injuries build up, people age...

To quote the great and powerful Amanda Waller:

"I saw him save the day dozens of times, with nothing but his wits, body and will. But I saw something else as the years passed, he was getting older, slower, soon he'd have to retire or more than likely, someone would finally manage to kill him."

[ QUOTE ]

I mean, how many 'Magic Gravity Controllers' have you seen?

[/ QUOTE ]

http://union.virtueverse.com/index.php/Grav_Mistress

I've talked about roleplaying and MMO's to some of my dearest friends parents at said friend's wedding, to my psychologist (He told me the location of a really good comic store in London), to my beautician and with my work colleagues.

"Hey, Ellen, you got much planned for this weekend?"
"Well, hoping to get a few runs on Scarlet Monestary on WoW, do some roleplaying on City of Heroes with my friends, and catch up on some writing. You?"
"Oh, getting drunk, usual. Have fun!"

It's not something I'm ashamed of, and hey, I'm proud of it. Plus whenever someone asks how I know most of my friends? Kind of needs to be explained there. :P

It's easier on my liver too.

Zorielle has the technology for that. Genetic engineering, combination into a suitable fertalized zygot, IVF implantation.

'Schway' by the way, is a word that I picked up from Batman Beyond/Batman of the Future. Groady according to FFM is an 80's word, and Groadsome is some kind of evolution of that. Thankfully nothing is gnarly or bodacious.

And apparently 'groady' means gross and yuck. So following the fact that if something is sick it means it's good, and the case of a certain part of a dog's anatomy, it's not too unfathomable to think that language would swing that way.

Zortel points towards the story that spawned this one. It has a happy ending! Kinda. It does! It's fluffeh.

((Yo. This is the thing that inspired Ravenswing's Future Imperfect, and thankfully it's a bit more upbeat than the mixture of dark and light offerings he added! Not too happy with the way the fight scene was written, but I just need practice there. Most of the dialogue in italics means it's taking place over commslinks, with other members of the team or the AI's.

So hopefully you shall enjoy the humour, and the somewhat cute endscene. Those who aren't partial to man on man action in the none wrestling sense -may- want to skip that, but it's just regular domestic stuff. So for the first tale from the Glimpse timeline, set 22 years in the future... here's The Art of Warlord.))

---------------------------

[u]Glimpse – The Art of Warlords[u]

There was panic on the streets of New Baumton. Civilians ran to take cover as far away from the conflict as possible, cars were left littering the streets and dust filled the air. At the central crossroads of the Cannonade, a huge crater had been blasted into the earth by a terrific impact, and fighting raged on in and around it.

It had been a peaceful Monday morning in Paragon City, the rush to work had finished, children were in school, and the pedestrian areas of the Cannonade had been lined with tables and chairs for people to sit at as they sipped 'designer' coffee and caught brunch. The impact of a trans-dimensional flight capsule into the centerpiece of the Cannonade, a monument dedicated to those heroes who gave their lives evacuating people during the Rikti Invasion twenty eight years ago, brought some peoples brunches to an abrupt halt.

Dimensional aliens... so inconsiderate.

The villain of the day was the self-proclaimed champion fighter and feudal fetishist Warlord Krom, an imposing figure at twelve foot tall and about half as wide. Clad in the latest in alien technoarmour fashions, all an unsubtle paint job of black and red, the dark haired and bearded brute had wasted no time in some mindless property damage and in calling out the city's heroes to 'come get their [censored] kicked'.

Eloquence left a lot to be desired in some dimensions.

The blue skinned 'Slayer of Supers', other than having a horrible sense of colour co-ordination -Who wears red and black with that skin tone?- was in the process of chewing the bonnet off a sports utility vehicle, the popular Voulden Motors 'Rancher' 4X4 Model H, when a sleek black aircraft began to hover overhead.

“At last, some action! I don't know what to say about Earth, but your canapés are awful.” Warlord Krom bellowed up at the aircraft before, in a fit of bad eating etiquette, chucked the inoffending car at it.

As the SUV sailed up, the air around it shimmered, causing it to come to a halt before it was fired back down at him. Drawing his arms up, Krom laughed as the vehicle smashed into him and exploded, shrugging off the impact.

“We don't play with our food here!” Someone shouted up from above, as the hatch at the rear of the plane opened up.

“Did you see that thing detonate? Looks like Good Morning Paragon's always been right about those cars being unsafe.” Another voice said, a small crowd gathering on the rear loading platform.

“Why the hell did I ever let Azure Arrow start teaching a 'Heroic Banter' class...” Cindersnap sighed, the forty year old hero switching controls over to the AI before walking to the back of the Unity Wing.

Twenty four years in the business had changed the former teen actor and [censored] icon. Scars crisscrossed his arms like a convoluted road map of past injuries and skirmishes, several on his face, a broken nose that had refused to set properly and a small chunk taken out of his ear after an attack by mutant werekittens. Twenty -five- years of training though kept him in top, if now slightly battered and battle weary, form.

Dressed in a long black and gold overcoat, he nodded to his team, the New Vigilants. “Alright, fight to gauge his strengths and weaknesses at first. We're on the defensive here. Triage and Mindsync, you two are on crowd duty. Get everyone clear, then come and join in. Mediport those who are injured.” The veteran hero trainer said.

“Are you going to come down here, or am I going to have to find some more things to destroy?!” Krom called out form below.

“OH HOLD ON A MINUTE!” Cindersnap yelled down. “Patience, learn some!”

With a disgruntled mutter, he shook his head and looked to the team of eight with him. “Chaingang, Aconite, you're on control. Try and get him locked down. Silver Saber, try and flank him. Energen and Energette, ranged assault. Fletcher? Hope you got your trick arrows with you today. Remember your training, look out for each other, don't do stupid things. Got it?”

His students nodded. This batch were rather well behaved compared to some of the others he worked with. “Alright, hands in.” He grinned, putting his hand out to the middle of the circle. With all hands in, they brought them down to a fist before rising up.

“New Vigilants!”

“Let's move!” Cindersnap called out. “BODICIA, activate gravity geysers!”

”Gravity Geysers enabled, launching. Good luck, and please try not to sprain anything on landing.” The AI's voice came from around the rear hatch.

The platform they were standing on started to glow with an almost lilac hue, before with the sound of a heavy energy discharge it launched them towards the ground.

Even in midair, Cindersnap facepalmed as some of the students behaved like this was an appropriate time to act like they were on a roller coaster. Excited whoops, hoots and hollers weren't exactly the image of a select team of teenage heroes.

... Well, maybe it was. And if so, that image needed to be changed.

“Finally, some action, and a chance to...” Warlord Krom trailed off, looking at the heroes he'd be fighting. “... Kids?! You send kids to do a man's job? What kind of [censored] is this?!”

Krom was soon shut up as Energette grabbed Energen's hand and blasted at the tall titan with a stream of bright blue energy.

“Oh shut up!” Energette yelled, firing another blast. “Calling us kids is bad enough, but 'a man's job'?! Talk about discrimination!” The dark red haired girl, dressed in the uniform of the New Vigilant's in a tasteful black and blue, was not happy. Kelly Rolando had inherited some of her mother Tessa's temper. Cindersnap idly wondered if it was a red-head trait, or simply her playing to the stereotypes.

“Oh come off it girly...” Krom spat out a glob of blue blood. “You call that an energy blast? Go back to school, where you should be!”

“Don't talk to my sister like that!” Michael Rolando, AKA Energen snarled. The darker haired twin had none of his other mother's restraint, bringing his hand up to fire a blast at Krom's chest.

“Sister? I would have thought she was your girlfriend, walking around holding hands like that.” Krom chuckled, before launching himself at the pair, fists ready to smash.

The mass of chains rushing up from the floor Krom didn't -quite- expect, nor did he then plan on having a Chinese dragon made entirely out of slightly rusted heavy duty chain surging towards him to smash into his chest. From the sidelines, Chaingang kept his focus, exerting his extremely selective telekinetic control over the links of metal. Dressed in black and grey, the young Iranian, his real name not even known to Ryan, had a determined look on his face, trying to force the man down.

From underneath, several dark green branches of thorns rose up from the broken ground, lashing out with limbs covered in thick thorns to try and snare the invader's legs. Crouched to the other side of the crater was Aconite, the pale skinned, pale haired and rather handsome young son of Alraune.
His arms surged with ripples as he fed his internal vines into the ground, enlarging them ready for combat. Torsten Ewers took his position and work seriously, with much the same work ethics as his mother, the Unity Vigil's Personnel Officer.

Flanking the Warlord and probing at his defenses was the black and silver wearing 'Silver Saber', nimbly darting back and forth and jabbing with her namesake weapons. The young woman's face was hidden behind a polished steel mask, finely forged with an expression of patience and calm.

”Alright, that's good. Fletcher, watch your arrows in use, don't want you nicking one of Aconite's vines again.” Cindersnap broadcast over his cybernetic commslink to the others.

“You had to bring that up now!” Fletcher called back, the black and red wearing young man leaping out of the way of a chunk of thrown rubble, before notching and letting loose several arrows. The tips pinged off Krom's armour.

“Is this all you've got? PATHETIC!” Krom roared, flecks of spit on his lips. With a massive bellow of rage, he wrenched one foot out of its bindings, his hands holding off the blasts from the Rolando twins.

Aconite grunted in pain as he was pulled in to the floor, trying to keep his grip on the vines that were being pulled out of the ground.

”Triage here, all clear!”

”Alright, go aid Mindsync, then both of you get back here to join in. Come on guys, you can do this.”

Cindersnap stood back from the battle, observing with keen eyes and the inbuilt cybernetics Zortel had given him. Data and combat analysis flashed up into his view, noting possible weak points and the style of Krom, which was mostly akin to 'smash it, if that doesn't work, smash again'. He didn't like standing back from battle, especially not when the New Vigilants were involved, but... doctors orders for one. For two, having the group reliant on the 'Pyrokinetic Powerhouse' as some newspapers had called him later in his career, was something he couldn't stand by.

Ryan winced in pain as he saw a backhand from Krom send Silver Saber flying, before groaning as Aconite stood up and started to let loose barrages of thorns and sharp tipped vines.

”Aconite, watch that temper! Silver Saber, report!”

”Ow... I'm fine, Boss. Just a few bumps... and one of my ribs is aching too.”

”Triage, go help Silver Saber, Aconite, work with Chaingang to get him back under lockdown.”

Blasts, explosions, and the occasional arrow-delivered burst of ice rocked the Cannonade, his team getting back up and hurling themselves, and other objects, back into the fight. Krom's stamina and resilience was impressive, and the teenagers were soon beginning to tire.

”Girls, status report. Can we get any other heroes down here?” Cindersnap sent his thoughts back to the towers.

”ALICIA here. Currently all group affiliated heroes are in operation elsewhere and cannot divert. Sorry Ryan... we can dispatch Vigilants if required?”

“This is BODICIA. As Ellie would say, you are 'on your todd' as it were. You may have to fall back.”

“CLAUDIA calling in, nearest ETA for hero support is ten minutes at best, a team is operating in Siren's Call fighting Twilight Men.”

Ryan muttered a not particularly nice word, rubbing his chin as he watched Krom pick up the Rolando twins and hurl them over his shoulders. Teamwork was a powerful force, but Krom was simply overwhelming them with sheer force and grit.

”Girls, begin monitoring vitals. Display warnings at heart rate disturbances. Audio and visual. Bring essential monitors to right side of HUD.”

“Ryan, please tell me you are not contemplating-” BODICIA was cut off in reply.

“Yes, yes and yes. Time for new tactics, and looks like my work isn't done yet in the field.”

“Your husband is going to kill us.” ALICIA sighed.

“Zorielle is going to chastise us.” BODICA groaned.

“Hey, at least your kids will think it's cool.” CLAUDIA giggled.

“CLAUDIA! Don't encourage him! Don't make me log out of my AI Core and spank you!” ALICIA threatened.

“Promises promises.” CLAUDIA could be -heard- grinning.

“Why did I ever decide to saddle myself with these two...” BODICIA lamented. “Alright Ryan, you win this one. Take any foolish risks and I swear I will have you out of your bed every morning for the next month to do crossing guard duty.”

“Thanks girls. Wish me luck!” Cindersnap said, before switching his comms link to broadcast to the team. “Alright. Change of plan. Fall back and recover, Triage, get Kelly and Michael on their feet ASAP, then get them to Krom's transdimensional ship. Tell them to send him somewhere nice on vacation.”

”Mother's going to shout at me for letting you do this, isn't she?” Aconite replied as they began to fall back.

“Oh yes.” Ryan grinned.

“Hey, Krom!” Cindersnap called out, beginning to walk towards the hulking giant. “News flash just in, not bad, but not good either. You've got strength on your side, and you're tough, but man, are you dumb.”

“WHAT?! You dare call me names, after I kicked your little kindergarten class's [censored]?” Krom growled.

“Oh yeah, I mean, no style whatsoever. It's all 'Krom Smash' and 'Krom Bash'. That shtick went out of style with Lou Ferigno!” Cindersnap laughed.

Meanwhile, on the sidelines...

“... Who the hell is Lou Ferigno?” Chaingang remarked to Silver Saber.

“Not a clue. Must be some old villain? One of those Family guys?”

“Ouch... no... that's Peter Griffin.” Energen said, hauling himself up.

“She means a member of The Family, not that lowbrow show.” Aconite facepalmed, shaking his head in despair.

“I knew that.” Energen grinned.

Back to the fight. If a fight could be considered a slanging match of banter...

“So, I think that's all the formalities out of the way with.” Cindersnap grinned, unzipping his trenchcoat and casting it to the side. Underneath, he wore a sleek black and orange bodysuit, various devices clipped to his belt and tucked into pockets.

“You're right. Time to mulch you!” Krom charged, bringing his fists up. There was a slightly puzzled look on his face as he saw the blond haired man charging back at him, grinning pretty much like a teenager.

Slugging a fist out, it missed with the space Cindersnap's head was in, the hero ducking in close before leaping up in an uppercut. Twenty four years of hand to hand combat experience and training from different heroes had left him a skilled fighter, though his blows were mostly ineffective against Krom's size and armour.

“This all you have? No wonder I creamed your kids!” Krom laughed, before a boot caught him in the teeth. Backflipping away from the kick, Ryan landed on the ground. “Actually, yeah, about that, see... you basically suck. You want to know why?”

“Enlighten me.” Krom grinned wickedly.

“Sure thing.”

From the heavens, a bright flame shot down, coalescing into the form of a long, fiery winged phoenix. Darting about, the flaming bird plummeted straight into the Warlord, clawing, pecking and flapping its blazing wings over his body.

“... Did you just see that?” Energette remarked, the young woman working with her brother at hacking into the ship's control unit.

“Okay, that? That is schway cool.” Mindsync grinned.

“I didn't even think the boss -had- powers anymore.” Fletcher remarked.

Cindersnap had leapt back from the phoenix's descent, flames coursing around one scarred arm. “I don't think you're deserving of my other fighting style, so... you get this one.” He remarked offhandedly. Then that off hand raised up and exploded with flames, a Chinese dragon constructed out of white, yellow and orange fire surging out to drive into Krom's chest.

The Warlord raged inside the inferno, lashing out ineffectively with his arms, his screams unable to be heard over the roar of Ryan's attacks.

”How's that alteration coming?” Cindersnap threw his thought over the commslink.

”Almost ready here, Kelly, get that relay primed. If we... remember Mom's lessons right, we should be able to send him somewhere he won't bother anyone. Ever again.”

”Keep going then. I can't do this all day.” Ryan remarked. His heart rate was stable for the moment.

Raising his hands, he began to lash out with construct after construct of fire-formed creature. Blazing tigers dashed forwards to go for the throat with fangs of pure flame, while smoldering wolves snapped and tore at the back of Krom's knees. Sweat prickled on the hero's forehead, but practice makes perfect, right?

”Done!” Energen called out. “Set to autopilot, next time the ships door closes.

“Excellent. Michael, Kelly, get over here with me. Triage, Mindsync, Aconite, Chaingang? Your goal is to get that door closed. Silver Saber and Fletcher? Get clear please.” Cindersnap sent the message across. They moved without question, following his orders. He was glad that they didn't argue.

“Right, Kelly, Michael? Time to blast this guy back into there. After the Liberty Kick, 'kay?”

“Got it!” Energette called out, grabbing her brother's hand.

“Count on us.” Energen replied with a nod.”

With a flash, the flames around Krom died out, even as Cindersnap began his charge into super-speed.

”Heart rate increasing. Chance of palpitations rising.” BODICIA reported.

Gritting his teeth, Ryan pushed forwards with all his might, before propelling himself through the air at top speeds. With years of practice, having adapted a technique from Liberty Girl, the move was devastating. His foot, braced by kinetic shields and supports in his uniform, hit Krom's chest at the speed of sound, flames shooting around it in an almost bell shape.

Krom blinked in surprise as his feet left the ground and he began sailing back. The twin blasts from Energen and Energette pressed against his body to guide him towards his ship, slamming into the cockpit. The ready members of the New Vigilants lashed out with their abilities to slam the door shut, before getting clear.

Hammering with his fists against the door, Krom cried out in rage, the ship's engines charging up before it blinked out of sight, sent hurtling across the multiverse.

Cindersnap had dropped to the floor, clutching at his chest. His heart pounded behind his ribcage, missing a couple of beats before finally starting to settle down. He laid on the broken concrete and rubble, staring up at the sky as he caught his breath. A pale hand was offered to him.

“Ryan? You are certifiably insane for trying something like that.” Aconite sighed, shaking his head a little.

Accepting the hand up, Ryan climbed to his feet. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead, but aside from a slight trembling of his hands, he was okay. He flashed a grin at the young man he'd trained. “Torsten? I'm insane for still doing this job. Heck, most people who become heroes are a little nuts to do so, but... we still do it. Kelly! Michael! Where the hell did you send him too?”

“Pocket Dimension, with the ship set to destruct on landing.” Kelly grinned, dusting some debris from her uniform.

Cindersnap was supported rather discretely by Aconite as he looked around at his team. “You all did good... sorry for honing in on your action, but we were a few members down today, and he was -really- tough.”

“Hey, don't worry about it, Boss.” Fletcher grinned. “That was totally groady.”

“Groadsome, even.” Chaingang added. “And schway. I mean, big giant Phoenix?”

“And a wicked dragon too” Triage added, grinning up at the leader of the organization and group.

“That must take some control, to make those fire creatures so detailed...” Mindsync added quietly.

“Oh yeah. It does. And thanks guys... anyway. BODICIA? Let's get back to the Tower and get a clean up team dispatched here. And order in some pizza for these guys.”

Thankfully, for his ears, the loud sound of the teens and young adults cheering was cut off as they were teleported away.

----------------------------------------

Ryan Andrew's Unity Puma, the black car with the orange stripe that Zorielle had provided for him after he passed his test all those years ago, pulled up in his driveway in the outskirts of the city. The car, twenty one years old, was still going strong and had just started to be out-performed by latest vehicles for consumer use.

He'd changed into a black shirt and dark blue jeans, comfortable yet rather attractive on him. Feeling comfortable was important, Dinah and Torsten often took turns to drill into him, and right now, being in a comfort zone was something he needed. He began the walk round the front of the three story detached house, keys in hand. He had a happy, and rather well off home life. Two incomes, two cars. Three kids. Ryan carefully stepped over a skateboard, not wishing to break his neck in a reenactment of 90's sitcom plot points. With the front door open, he wandered through to the kitchen, past the living room that had the TV blaring out the latest kids shows, in search of his husband.

“You...” Robert Judge said, putting a hand on Ryan's shoulder. “What were you thinking, Ry?” He demanded.

Turning round, Ryan pecked the dark brown haired TV presenter and celebrity on the lips. “The usual when you speak to me in these tones of voice. Doing the right but stupid thing.”

“You could have killed yourself out there! I came off doing the morning show to find my crew gawking at you fighting some alien warrior!” Robert raised his voice along with his shoulders, before slumping. “You scared me, Ryan...”

Drawing his partner into his arms, Ryan brushed his cheek against Robert's, whispering in his ear. “I know... I'm sorry too. You know I made that promise to only step in when needed to, and that's what I did. I had to distract him long enough for the twins to get to work, and there was no way the rest could have got enough force to drive him back on their own.”

Placing a hand under Robert's chin, he guided his husband in for a gentle kiss. “I've taken the rest of the week off work, I booked tickets for us to go to the theater and at that place in Founder's you love, and on Saturday I'm taking the family out to Paragon Plaza Theme Park.”

“We're going to the Plaza?!” A young boy said excitedly from behind the pair.

“Schway! Dad, you should totally do stupid stuff more often if we get this.”

“Lina!” Robert raised his voice at their daughter, an eight year old girl with long blond tresses. “Don't encourage your father.”

“You were cool though, really. I mean, cooler than you are in the cartoon and comics.” The oldest boy, around ten years old, said as he grinned up at his parents. He made a bit of a face as Ryan ruffled his hair.

“You bet, Nick! In the comics, I don't even do half the cool stuff I...” He glanced at Robert, “Used to be able to do. But thanks.”

“Daddy!” The youngest girl giggled, running up to hug Ryan's leg.

Moving back from Robert, Ryan lifted her into his arms and planted a kiss on her forehead, before brushing some brown hair from her eyes. “Hey Natalie,” he smiled to the six year old, giving her a hug. “Right, you kids go and play nice, I need some help from your other father in the kitchen. We're having spaghetti bolognaise tonight.”

Setting Natalie down, he watched with a smile as his children went back into the front room, before slipping his hand into Robert's and pulling him into the kitchen to get a start on dinner.

“Hope I didn't interrupt work too much today.” Ryan apologized.

“A little, I took a quick break to worry about you...” Robert replied, slipping his arms around Ryan's waist, his chin resting on his shoulder. “You sure you're okay? No chest pains, anything?”

“Zori checked me out. I'm fine.” Ryan grinned, abandoning cooking to turn around and press his husband against the large silver refrigerator. “I'm back home, my kids are home, and my handsome lover is right here.” Ryan dropped his voice to a whisper, breathing into his partner's ear. “That helps keep me ticking.”

Whatever Robert was going to say probably didn't matter as Ryan cut it off with a passionate kiss. When a guy grew up learning sign language, what you do tends to be more important than what you say.

Fin.

And I said 'some'!

As I said, excellent work! Now to get my story finished, which is a bit more of a brighter future than some of the ones portayed here.

Suffering Sappho!

... Sorry, it had to be done.

Great work yet again, gotta say I love the Wonder Woman drawing.

There is a change to the base editor, actually. You can now intersect items, having them hanging off higher floor options, or even create a cross section by intersecting two lateral files.

That's odd though, because my character doesn't have Strength of Will. :P

What about on sets where there were two extra powers instead of one? Will they get both extra powers added, or just one?

As mentioned in my thread over on the Training Room Boards, Surge of Power makes you go red lightning mode. Red lightning mode man throwing out blue lightning bolts. Shabby. :/

Too much to even get a colour work around?

Awesome on the Alraune one, and Cass looks pretty calm as she pummels head. Only 39 to go!