DeviousMe

Kings Row

She stepped from the rift and into the alley, a mere shimmer in the air, all but invisible to the naked eye. The thermo-optic camouflage rendered her rifle just as unseen as the rest of her armor, the full-body suit treading ground with carefully guided and thus near-silent steps. It wasn't perfect, but being invisible to more than just the naked eye wasn't something to be taken lightly either.

The others came through a few seconds later, after she'd sent confirmation. So the rifts were passable. And they could be stabilized. That was good. Very good. Now she knew why the Admiral had asked for her team specifically. Kri was a genius in this field, and the Cerosians were still its leading authority. Sure, these rifts might not have been Oblivion Gates, but from what she understood, they came close. The rest could be bridged by the Rulusian shaman.

Now it was time to link up. As her team fanned out and secured the area, the local contacts established communication with the overhead satellite. In short order, she had a complete picture of the area. What she did next now...well, that depended on what happened next...

((I have no idea what an Ultimate Nullifier is, but considering the CoXverse is full of Ultimate Somethingorothers, all of which tend to have some sort of Ultimate Unsomethingorother, I don't think it'll 'mess up' anything. If you'd still like to discuss it beforehand, I'd like to think that my Like a Ton of Bricks OOC thread is still viable, but of course I can't be 100% sure.

Now then, I think I'd like to try a slightly different form of storytelling for this thing, so let's just see how this works out...))


Highland Falls - Rulus


She fell into the tall grass by the lakeshore with a deep sigh of relief. The bright rays of the morning sun tingled warmly upon her face, and the gentle cool of plants and soil wrapped snugly about her back. She watched the wispy-white clouds dance slowly through the deep-blue sky with their endless patience, their gradual drifts driven by the same wind which played in the grass about her ears.

She was exhausted. From the river still rang the joyful shouts of the fishermen, and with a deep breath she took pride in their accomplishment. It had been long, hard, back-breaking work, and now her muscles ached in places she'd plain forgotten they could. But it had all been worth it. With a muffled grunt of pain, she peeled her spine from the soft earth and pulled her legs close to sit, bringing her hands into her lap as she looked to the others up at the river, blissfully tossing the catch from the nets upon the bank.





She smiled. She'd have gone on longer if they'd let her. She loved every minute of it. The rush of the water about her legs, the give of the riverbed beneath her soles, the twitch of every fish's tail in that cool, clear stream so full of life. Of course, they were probably right. She'd been out here since the sun had risen. Still, she couldn't help herself. It was simply in her nature.

And yet...

She had to admit it did feel good to take the time to sit and take in the fruits of her labor. It was rewarding to see, to feel, and as she surveyed, her eyes gradually meandered along the upriver bridge and across the water to the other bank, where the great fire already burned brightly and the cries of the upcoming celebration grew.





This evening would be quite the occasion, of this she was sure. The village in torchlight, the great fire blazing brightly with the pleasure of the people and the spirits alike...and that lazy Cerosian would be sleeping it all away. On second thought, no. No he wouldn't. She'd do something about that. The shaman could probably help her with that. He'd probably like the idea too. After all, he had that mischievous streak about him that she couldn't say she didn't find attractive. A more than appealing partner-in-crime.

But not now.

No, not now. Later. Right now, her body complained too much. So she settled for another sigh and letting her sight follow along with the flow of the river, fixing the fish within and the gravel below, picking at their details through the crystal-clear waters while her eyes traveled to the lake at its mouth and the falls to the other side.





Suddenly there was a ring in her ear. Three-toned, high-pitched. That meant urgent. She closed her eyes a moment and commanded her AR interface back online. Her implant snapped the grid display of the augmented reality module across her vision like greased lightning. By the time she'd completed the blink, everything had linked back into the grid.

The circular image of an oscilloscope graph popped into being in the air before her face - at least figuratively speaking. The picture, the text which slowly circled about the rimming perimeter outline, even the blurb below and to the side proclaiming AUDIO ONLY, they all existed only in her head. And within the network. A communicative mass delusion, designed and re-designed over many generations of cyberware and biotechnology, and still evolving to this day.

"Cap-tain." the curt, choppy, and monotonous voice of a machine she knew quite well demanded her attention with its usual, stockily brief manner, "Orders to all ships: recall crews. The fleet is moving out."

Her eyes narrowed. The carefree fisherman made room for the hardened soldier. She rose to stand, the aches of her body forgotten. They were minor now. The fisherman may have groaned in pain, but the soldier had endured so much worse. They didn't matter anymore. What mattered was her duty. Her oath. She'd sworn to protect this land, these people, and all else what and whom was to be found within the empire. Across the river and past the ridge, up the falls of crystal streams that rained from the titanic pipes, and over the walls of stone and metal her eyes roamed, fixing that which glinted and gleamed in the rays of the morning sun.





Highland Falls. Spaceport, depot, nexus of the planetary defense system, and source of over half the water in the region. Looking at it from down here, it was almost inconceivable that it was but a waste product of the isocardial plants that powered the city. The designers had truly created a masterpiece.

And they would make sure it remained safe.

She sent confirmation to the ship's AI. Then she started giving orders. Reactors up. Engines hot. Crew aboard ASAP. The AI acknowledged. Transmission terminated.

Her eyes snapped over and across the lake, mustering where the falls had dug deep troughs into the rocky ground. There was no time to do this gently. The detpack was in her fingers as if it had been waiting. It hummed online gleefully upon the first click, and beeped happily upon the second. Upon the third, it sailed across the waters with the mad, mechanical cackle only a bomb could make. The splash wasn't large. It didn't have to be. All that mattered was what came thereafter.

A thump of thunder accompanied the sudden appearance of a white mass of churning, roiling water below the surface, and a tremendous cacophony the plume that burst from the formerly so gentle waves and launched its spray nearly all the way back up to the pipes from whence it came. It didn't take long after that. Even before the fountain had collapsed again, a sharp head of sapphire scales and ivory teeth burst from the water, dragging with it neck, body, wings and tail of the easily house-sized dragon to which it belonged as quickly as its legs plodded the mighty mass of muscle ashore.

"Already?" the beast grumbled in a stern male tone when its claws touched land, water slicking off and draining from between its scintillating scales, dripping long swaths into the long grass, "It's barely been three days. I hadn't even really gone to sleep yet."

"I know, I know." he rumbled out a sigh before she could say anything, "The responsibilities of a fleet officer are not bound by the declared blah blah blah. I remember. Go on ahead. I'll get Kri."

She smirked. Truth be told, she would've loved to banter. But he was right. Time was of the essence. Besides, there'd be time for that later. Kri and he would be at the ship by the time she arrived - and if he dangled the shaman from his teeth by the tail...

((Well, more Genericverse since I've got about as much clue about the Virtueverse as I do what happens on Union, but I'll see what I can do. ))

Fiji

He raised an eyebrow. The comics gradually wandered downward as he slid the newspaper off his face. Deep-green lids half-closed over ice-gray, slitted pupils, the eyes to which they belonged only slowly coming to rest upon the 'face' of the battle drone that seemed to tower over him into the clear, deep-blue sky by virtue of standing right next to his shoulder in the sand.

"What?" queried the sharp-toothed, saurian jaws of the long, lanky Khelari, the bipedal reptilian that had about as much in common with reptiles as humans with giraffes still lying half-buried in the beach with the heavy paper on his chest, "They did what?!"

Despite the practical roar directed toward it, the robot didn't flinch of course. This may have been unwise, as roughly a second later, the slim greed body that had been lying before it was up and out of the sand and clutched both sides of its sensor head with ten clenched, clawed fingers.

Still it repeated.

Off went its head.

"Sorry." the Khelari grumbled and let out a sigh, placing the machine's head into its waiting hand, "I know. Don't shoot the messenger."

The drone didn't reply.

"C'mon." said the reptilian thereafter, snatching up the crumpled paper and setting himself into step toward a grove of palm trees, "I'm guessing this is gonna mean we've got work to do..."

<- likes this. A LOT.

((Whats this now? Looks intriguing. Bit skosh, but intriguing. Is there a specific character requirement here, or can anybody join?))

Well, to be honest, I'm not sure if this thread is even going to stay alive at this point - though either way, I'd say Hood Ornament id very definitely 'worthwhile' by himself, heh. I was asking more due to us not having had a chance to finish up the artifact plot than anything else. Just wanted to gauge your interest in that.

And speaking of interest...well, let's give it a try...

Where'd everybody gooooo???!!!

Techbot? CB? You there?

Dante, if we managed to get a few more people for this, would you be interested in going on?

Really, I do want to continue this, but I'm just no sure what to do. It's like that huge discussion of ideas and potential after the Isla de Muerte plot never even happened. >_>

While I sure hope so, I have to admit it's not likely. The people I usually RP with seem to have their fill of threads currently (or aren't posting at all for reasons I don't know), and the Europeans are notoriously gun-shy when it comes to threads they didn't start themselves. They're kind of a clique that way. So yeah, I'm afraid this isn't gonna go anywhere.

The rains had come. But they could not cleanse. That was the task of fire.

[00:02]

[00:01]

[00:00]

North Gate

The immaculately polished logo of Crey Biotech burst apart in a hail of fire and shrapnel, white-hot metal rending the heavy blast door apart like the fists of a titan.

South Gate

The thick metal came undone by force and flame, violence unchecked unleashed upon those it had meant to protect, leaving its efforts but naught and slag.

East Gate

The detonation tore through the door like the wrath of hell itself, spewing forth a synthetic malevolence that matched any fire and brimstone had concocted in all the ages of Man.

West Gate

The blaze shredded metal, flesh, and bone alike, and still the great tongue of the churning inferno licked upon all within its reach, expunging every life and every soul that felt its rage.

All Gates

The power failed. Darkness assaulted the flickering flames' light.

And then they came.

They came seeking. They came marching. Their heavy boots crushed what cinders remained to ash, flattening crumbling chunks of shattered armor, grinding apart smoldering fragments of flayed flesh, and crushing charred bits of bone into the ground.

They came wanting. They came hunting. Their weapons found their marks. Blazes of bright blue pierced the veil of darkness, their visors glinting coldly in the hue of each and every plasma bolt that burned through those brave enough to show them face.

But just like the blast doors, each failed and fell, one after another, and they kept on the advance, undeterred. Round after round bounded from the smooth plates of their armorsuits, ringing helplessly against the floor in concert with their jackets raining from the speaking guns. Fire blazed against them, darkness of the nether worked its vileness, and spines of bone and claws of steel came with viciousness untold. Power of the body and the mind, force of science large as life and smaller than the atom, all roared its might and fury 'twainst their marching numbers, and their weapons spoke in kind.

They fell in ones. Too slow. They pressed their hold. The tide would not be stemmed. Losses were acceptable. Defeat was not. In their helmets sound was silence, in their eyes purpose penned, in their hearts conquest nigh. They would not be denied.

And he watched.

He watched them march, he watched them take. He watched them fight, and he watched them fall. It hurt. It hurt them all. But it was necessary. Things were different now. The pain of the fight fought he could lock away, could give to the cold. The pain of the fight not fought he could not bear, he could not face. It was better to fight than to hurt, better to take one in place of the other.

For the Empire.

He stepped forth. His weapon awoke. Gloved fingers grasped the hilt of the plasma pistol and brought it forth from beneath the billows of his cape. The iridescence of neon blue danced across his visor. He would face them. Like the others, he would face them. Face them all. Face them now.

"For the Empire!"

And his weapon spoke...

((Thanks Dante, but I'm afraid 2 involved people an adventure does not make. With everybody else gone silent even in the OOC thread, it doesn't look like this is going to go anywhere.))

Hm. So by the looks of it, this has gone and spectacularly failed. Anybody else feel up to writing up a crossverse thread?

Someone who'd seen something indeed. He saw Karnac too. He wasn't happy about that. The PPD were supposed to have cleared out. Hero beats gangers. Case closed. So what was this guy doing here?

An unassuming man in nondescript clothes, he stood on the skyway above in conversation with his partner - a nondescript man in unassuming clothes. It was farce, of course. They spoke of the weather, but neither said anything even remotely connected with that subject. Their discussion was of the broad bulk of costumed muscle sniffing about down by the alley. Of Karnac. Who was this man? Was he connected? Not? How...?

Land of the Lost

The steady rumble of traffic above echoed through the pillars of the overpass, giving the concrete jungle that was Skyway City its ever-present curtain of resonating background noise. Dirt, grime, and loose, aged newspapers blew about the gray-on-gray cityscape as always, and if it hadn't been that the crews who'd carted away the unconscious the day before had moved several boxes and bins to clear the way a little, few people would've guessed that anything at all had happened here. After all, this was Paragon City, and scenes like this weren't too uncommon.

Or were they?

The investigators hadn't found much. Then again, they hadn't exactly looked for much either. To the PPD, the situation was fairly cut-and-dry: a lone hero took on a little more than he could handle. It happened. They'd get the details from him when he came to. Sure, they'd gone about and done the usual, sniffed for Shift and other drugs, confiscated weapons, wondered once again where the heck a street gang got their hands on Rikti hardware, cursed the black market suppliers and swore they'd get them one day, but all in all it was just the usual routine.

Their findings had been fairly quick and conclusive, and matched the scene well. The ice they'd described in the reports had by now melted, but the scorch marks from what they'd declared fire powers and plasmatic energy remained, blackening walls and ground in apparently random intervals. Some of the blood was still there too.

But not all of it.

Or rather, too little of it, for the crews hadn't removed any. The stuff was dry by now of course, but to a canny observer, it wasn't impossible to discern the subtle patterns that still existed: blood dotted the concrete where the unconscious had lain, but there were barely any splatter patterns, such as those that came from baseball bats and bullet wounds. If this brawl had both started and finished here, there should've been more.

And that was just with senses mundane.

If Karnac's connection to the Earth carried within not only its strength, but also its sight, things would look very different than they appeared indeed. For even in this unnatural canyon of concrete and steel, the Earth had seen. It had seen men that weren't men, wearing suits that weren't suits, driving trucks that weren't trucks. It had seen this happen elsewhere. It had seen this brought here...

It sure doesn't, heh.

So then, 's Karnac headed for the site of the incident, the hospital where Frostfire's been hauled to, or somewhere else?

They say everything has a time and a place. The time is the present. The place is a city called Paragon.

That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.

Strange events plague the land. Strangers have come. People are missing. Fear haunts the streets.

Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed.

But where there is darkness, there will always be light. Where there is fear, there will always be courage. When the stalking shadows tread this ground, they are not unwatched. When the children cry out, they are not unheard. For Paragon City...

But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.

...is a city of heroes.

Liberty Quay
Night

Running. Running for his life. Tobias Knight was running for his life, weaving through the maze of shipping containers as quickly as his feet would do, and his thoughts ran with him. How had it come to this? Heh.That one he knew. They'd found out. Too bad, too. He'd really enjoyed working for Crey...until he'd discovered what his division really did. No, a much better question to think about was why the hell the cops weren't here to take down the thrice-damned goon squad at this heels.

He'd given them data. He'd given them papers. Signatures, dates, locations! And they weren't here! No, instead of meeting with the police, he now ran from a pair of black suits intending to snuff him out - or worse.

He wasn't afraid to die. He'd known the risk when he chose to blow the whistle, and he'd accepted it. What he was afraid of was disappearing, of his and him vanishing without a trace, and that all he'd uncovered would simply be swept under the rug.

He knew it happened. He'd seen it in the records. He thought he'd accounted for it. Apparently though, Crey's reach was just a bit longer than the arm of the law.

That was when it happened.

Turning another corner, he came upon a dead end. Another container sat between the two that formed the path, squarely blocking off his escape. Great. Just perfect. Now what? The damned thing was too tall to jump onto, and there wasn't any way he was climbing up smooth metal walls. Turn back? Find another way?

He chose to turn.

And there they were.

The pair of suits raised the guns in their gloved hands.

A sound of thunder shattered the night.

After about a second, Tobias dared to crack open his eyes. An instant later, they went wide. The goons lay dead, heads torn asunder, their blood spattered all over the concrete. One shot. Two kills.

"Mister Knight." he heard a voice from above and behind, a robust male tone with Slavic accent, "We have a proposition for you..."
__________________

Land of the Lost
Noon

Miranda Stevenson, ace investigative reporter, straightened her hair and cleared her throat as she turned to face the camera. A moment later, the little red light atop the device came to life. Recording.

"Thank you, Charlie. This is Miranda Stevenson reporting live from the scene here in Skyway City, where early this morning the valiant hero Frostfire subdued a vicious pack of the street gang commonly known as the Lost. Having no so long ago been a member of the very same criminal underworld, the redeemed former gang leader risked life and limb to ensure the safety of Paragon's citizens, in the process sustaining severe injuries that regrettably leave him unable to comment at the moment..."

The cameraman began to pan across the scene at this, showing the 'viewers at home' a collection of PPD squad cars and ambulances, officers and paramedics out and about, loading the unconscious gangers onto stretches and into the waiting vehicles. Eventually, the view reached Frostfire, bruised and beaten, and slumbering the sleep of the numb just as the Lost.

"...have announced his injuries as not life-threatening and his current condition as stable. However, he seems to have slipped into a coma from which it could take weeks to recover. Just what these Lost were doing here and how they will be prosecuted without an eyewitness on hand remains to be seen at this point, though Detectives are rumored to already have gathered more than enough evidence to..."
__________________

Talos Memorial Home for Children
Morning

Linda Meyer smiled gleefully as she picked up the receiver and began to dial the first number on the computer screen sitting beside her on her desk. It was a beautiful day. The sun shone, the birds chirped, and in less than an hour, she'd be able to file the bulk of the recent departees as 'adopted'. It was a good feeling. Nothing could make today a bad day.

Five minutes later, all that had been expunged.

"We are sorry. The number you have dialed is not in service. Please hang up and try again. This is a recording."

"We are sorry. The number you have dialed is not in service."

"...sorry. The number you have dialed is not in service. Please hang up..."

"...number you have dialed is not in service. Please hang up and try..."

"...you have dialed is not in service. Please hang up and try again. This..."

"...not in service. Please hang..."
"...not in service. Please..."
"...not in service..."
"...in service..."
"...in service..."
"...in service..."

"...is a recording."

For several long minutes, Linda sat in silence, perfectly still, pale as a ghost.

Then she called the police...

Okay then, so some of yalls probably remember a bunch of talk about trying a new American/EU combo RP a while back, and that Mechano and I were planning to get that rolling soon. Well, it looks like my esteemed partner-in-crime got WoWzered, so Imma go see what I can do about kick-starting this. But first:

Are there others still interested in this?

Moreover, does anyone wanna add a plot of their own to this? I've been informed that RPs in the Unionverse setting tend to revolve around one central plot line controlled by the person who started it - and if yalls prefer that, we can certainly go with that - but I think I'd like to try something more mixed and flexible. Thoughts, questions, comments, concerns?

And this is why you shouldn't try to overclock the Hami.

"Khhhhaaaaaaannnnn!!!"

Master run? I've been trying to get that for a long time now. If yalls're willing to go for it, I'm in with my bots/FF, hehe.

Ow! You inconsiderate jerk! Do you have any idea how much that stings?!

*loads pad woon sen into satellite cannon*

Suck flavorful cooking, y'dang Brit!