DeviousMe

Why? Do you remember everything that happened at your school in real life? I know I sure don't.

Some Dude: "Hey, you remember that unforgettable event last year when X flipped the Y and Z spilled all over, so Q slid into W and Mister L went nuts and tore down that whole deal?"

Me: "...No."

I think it'd be fine to just set this one year later or something. Heck, actually we could just start it in the present, which is already several years removed from the old thread.

By now, Acid had noticed the arcane energies building as well, said streams of power straining his focus on the bubble he protected the area with beyond the breaking point. He had to take it down, and so it went, vanishing into nothing in the night air. Unfortunately, that also meant nothing dispersed said energies any longer, granting them free passage to the congressman.

Now he had to be quick. The tip of his long, whiplike tail shot up, wrapping itself about the necklace that held the man's pendant in an attempt to rip the thing from his neck and fling it off the bridge. At the same time, the Khelari did something like likely even Rosie hadn't seen coming.

He bit Congressman Alistair Wolfe II on the side of his neck like a vampire!

Meanwhile, a certain monstrous mechanoid didn't much appreciate a specific group of mercenaries haggling its boss like this. Turing its attention toward Balgair's crew, the assault bot's arm covers moved once more, closing off its cannon barrels even as the machine's arms switched to other nozzles.

The heavy stomp of metal feet reverberated through the pavement as the mechanical monster set course for the mercenaries, stretching an arm ahead and spraying a gout fom its plasma-based flamethrower toward the troop. Depending on their combat experience, the men may have noticed it wasn't actually targeting them, but more the area just ahead of them in the direction of the reptilian. Still, plasma packed a good amount of radiant thermal energy, which meant things got pretty hot for them...

Valor Bridge, 02:35
Listening? Not so much. Looking? Most certainly.

"Looks like this is our chance, boys." said the unseen source to the unseen receiver, the only current trace the young male tone upon the air, "Go get 'im."

Upon that command, a second trace added itself in the form of a reverberation in the road deck. Then another. And another. With slow, steady, purposeful gait, the heavy footsteps closed with the site of the attack, the owner of those feet drawing closer with a sense of frightening inevitability. Each step was measured, each impact precise, and only time itself seemed to bear witness to what came.

Until it did away with its concealments.

Still walking, still advancing, ever-closing was the mechanical monstrosity of just under three meters, the glowing-red strips of luminescence that served as the eyes of the cold machine that so many in Paragon City rightly called an 'assault' robot seeming to fix each and every moving thing within the hulking mechanoid's sight and writing 'target here' all over it. Indeed, that seemed to be the very thing the machine had in mind as it decloaked, a faint shimmer wrapping about its frame for the briefest of moments, indicative of some form of protective force.

"Targets acquired." the mechanical monster stated coldly, monotonously, its voice carrying naught but that unfeeling emptiness of the pure machine as came to a stop. Its knees bent slightly in preparation for a missile volley from the minirak modules that jutted from its shoulders, "Targets locked."

"Hang on there, big guy." chuckled the same voice that had initially commanded the machine to move, its owner stepping from the figurative shadow of the 'bot - and looking rather unimpressive next to it.

He stood at roughly two meters, a quasi-reptilian creature of slim build and deep-green, scaleless hide, and thus looked downright scrawny beside the mechanoid. Being plantigrade didn't really help that picture, though the claws that tipped the long, flexible digits of his five-fingered hands did offset that just a little in combination with the heinous number of small, sharp teeth that graced the grin of his raptor-, perhaps even deinonychus-like jawline. In contrast, his rather average-looking ensemble of black work boots, cargo pants, T-shirt and a jacket that would've fit more to a biker didn't add much at all - especially since the T-shirt was white as snow. Then again, that may have said something after all, considering how hard it could be to keep white clothing clean in his line of work. Still, for all the lack of physical imposition that he was (especially next to the assault bot), he did have something that could frighten even the most hardy of souls.

His eyes.

Irised gray as the very surface of the lifeless moon that orbited this planet, icy as its very darkest spots, their large, black, almond-like pupils spoke volumes of the terrible intelligence to which they granted sight upon the world. Cold, calculating, considerate of every factor, and yet caring for none, this was the picture they painted of the mind behind those eyes. A heart appeared entirely absent.

But perhaps appearances could be deceiving.

"Howdy, boys." he casually greeted the initial attackers with a nonchalant wave of fingers, "We all know how this is gonna end. How 'bout you fellers step aside?"

Or they could be spot-on.

"'course..." he smirked toothily, "I am still workin' on Weed Whacker..."

I'll say. Those are fantastic.

Same here. He probably should've said 'make a mention of it' rather than 'lampshade'. If you hang a real lampshade, he'd hate it becuse he's got beef with those.