-
Posts
3139 -
Joined
-
Not a moment later, Commander Cynic felt the heavy tap of a back-armored finger upon his shoulder. Silence fell dramatically as the man prepared to turn about.
Or at least, that was a way things could have gone - the odds against this possibility were, however, quite staggering indeed.
The Ultra had no inclination to let anything by in pursuit of the Chief, and since its bulk filled most of the command and control center's entryway, getting past it would be no simple feat.
As everyone took to the air to avoid the heavy infantry's ground-based strike, the cannon mount atop its back sprang into action, plastering the gathered forces with an airburst munition that contained a rather dynamic adhesive - in other words, a glue grenade on steroids.
Luckily, the unexpected projectile assault didn't allow for an immediate follow-up, the Ultra instinctively raising an armored arm to ward the nettlesome material munitions from the gaps in its compound helm. The effect didn't last long though (but perhaps just long enough for its adversaries to figure a way out of the gunk that stuck them to the ground by their shields) and it quickly became apparent standard-caliber bullets weren't going to cut it. True, the things hurt, but they wouldn't be enough to cause any debilitating damage - at least not so liberally applied.
Meanwhile, the Ultra didn't step off the offensive, the second barrel of its artillery mount roaring forth a coherent beam of bright-orange energy at its opponents. It was a thermocannon, and though normenergetic, could be utterly devastating simply due to the sheer power the raw reaction that spawned it could transfer. The metal of floor and walls ran to slag, then vaporized within mere moments of contact, leaving behind an irregular trench of liquefied and re-hardened material wherever it made contact in its broad arc of sweep.
Still, the Ultra didn't leave its position, blocking the path with the same efficiency as before. It was now quite clear its mission wasn't just to strike at the enemy, but primarily to prevent them from pursuit. Considering how cocky the two intruders had been just seconds before, this didn't leave very many conclusions... -
Trust me, it's not just the Americans.
-
Nice work, but it looks like this isn't going to be quite my cup of cheku. Don't get me wrong, it's a great idea, and will probably benefit a great number of people, but I work better when I can think things through alone and a little bit at a time - like in Worlds Apart, where each part of the story is collaboratively written, but each author still retains personal independence.
However, I'll certainly be reading along. -
OOC:
Okay, now things are clearing up a bit. Just need to know a few more things then: 1) Is Paragon still existant in its ruined state under that shield for the purposes of this RP, meaning are there people there? Or is is basically a big black box that nobody knows what's going on under? And 2) If there aren't, how's what other people have written so far going to fit into this? -
OOC:
M'kay, now I'm confused. If most of this isn't taking place in PC, then where is everybody?Might be a good idea of you to describe in detail just what you're imagining the place to look like, otherwise people'll keep running into these things.
-
((Hm, was hoping our AA battery would come in, but I guess not.
))
Questionable effect wasn't as questionable as questionable judgment, which was quite questionable indeed. Not only had Tamesis placed himself right in the line of friendly fire (if the scatter was great enough, that was, and Cynic's armaments of course not accounted for in this respect), but there was also the matter of a certain arm not far from him that carried a literal handful of rather nasty claws.
At respectable speed.
Indeed, the Ultra wasn't as slow as its size suggested. Though of course it was by no means comparable to a martial artist, it could definitely move with speed comparable to an average-sized human, but logically with a good bit more force. The Ultra's right arm came at the Arbiter like a hydraulic ram, and the blade bunker upon its wrist didn't hesitate to hew its Kaiser blade at Tamesis as this took place.
Still, the Arbiter's immediate assault bore fruit. The Ultra's blood-red scales scorched and rotted under the assault of fire and nether, showing quite clearly that the monster was indeed not immune to attack.
At least not all sorts.
The energetic assault met a radically different fate, ricocheting from the Ultra at incident angles, meaning anything that described a ballistic arc almost certainly came straight back at the Arachnos forces one way or another.
The Ultra's armor was a reflective assembly - and not only that, but the composite of material and immaterial also brought its energetic workings to bear where matter did not. Finding a way through this defense would be very difficult indeed.
Or not.
Tamesis had already proved the material fist could handily accomplish it. The smell of cordite still hung heavy in the air, and gutter wounds could be observed on the Ultra's body here and there - well, if the smoke and flashes didn't obscure everything, that was. The monster certainly didn't seem to have any problem seeing its opponents even in the flashpulses of the seeker drones.
Then again, it wasn't exactly relying on its eyes.
The left arm wasn't idle either, its blade bunker crackling with violent energies before a fist crashed into the floor with thunderous impact, sending its charge rocketing across the ground, just like before. Yes, the Ultra had been the source of the energy wave that had bowled everyone over and reduced the auto turrets to slag.
The blue-scaled draconian and his robed compatriot, however, had no intention of joining the fray. They were already on their way out, using Cynic's detention fields to keep them safe from stray fire.
"Always complications." the dark saurian hissed despondently, and decidedly not in English. He had no intention of letting everyone in earshot knew what had transpired, "I've half a mind to toss a shield disrupter back there."
"No worries, it's just a delay." the draconian retorted, towering over the other as they walked beside one another, "They usually set the backup timers for four minutes. That's more than enough time to get to an open space and take off. They won't be here in time..." -
Oh, very nice, BB. Consider me impressed.
And yes, part II is in the works. Actually, it's not in the works, it's been done since I put up part I, but I'm still not satisfied with it.So be patient.
Meanwhile, since I can't edit my arc post anymore, I'll tack the souvenirs on here:
--------------------
Souvenir: Lieutenant Bears Arrow
This is one of the Wyvern mercenaries high-tech arrows, specifically one that once belonged to a Raptor Agent named William Bear. You remember this projectile well especially just where Lt. Bear stuck you with it in a rather painful manner in one of your many exploits you remember as:
Mess With the Best
It all started when you stopped to speak to an odd reptilian named Acid Zero (whom incidentally youre still not quite sure is real or just a figment of your imagination). Still, he stated to be working on something very covert and in need of good help, which is never easy to find, whom he could trust to work with him, not for. Good thing he found you when he did, as things certainly became very heated after he sent you to Paragon City to cause a bit of mischief with local law enforcement.
Wyvern had observed you, and was now locked hard on your trail. Both you and your contact knew theyd follow you like bloodhounds now, and this was simply unacceptable. You set about to discourage them, but with the intelligence theyd gathered on you came an attached string by the name of William Bear. A powerful foe, you defeated him nonetheless, but it almost appeared the Raptor Agent would have the last laugh hed sent a copy of your intel to the Legacy Chain, a secretive enclave of heroic mystics whose hideaways nobody had been able to track down in centuries.
Luckily, your contact happened to know nobody. Unfortunately, nobody went by the name of Blightlord, and wasnt about to help you out. A powerful necromancer, Blightlord fought you with vile toxins and henchmen of the undead, but in the end you prevailed and managed to get the location out of him. Now all that you had left to do was pursue and destroy. Oddly enough, when you came to tell your contact this, he considered it as understood that you would. He stressed youd be working with, not for, him but he wasnt about to give up any of his secrets just yet.
Still, you placed your questions on hold for now and pursued the Legacy Chain mystics into the hidden base the Wyvern agent had sent his information to. It was of course heavily guarded, but nothing you couldnt easily handle until a slew of Paragons heroes arrived to foil you! You prevailed yet again, handing them a crushing defeat and handily pinning the blame on Blightlord, but still you couldnt help but notice they werent from the Freedom Phalanx, Vindicators, or other groups of heroes that constantly warred with Recluse and his minions. These were the sort of heroes that filled paragon City by the hundreds, perhaps even thousands, and if these types came after you in numbers, youd surely have a fight on your hands that you couldnt hope to win.
Your contact, however, dismissed these notions before you could even thoroughly voice them, explaining it was only natural you messed with the best, and theyd want a piece of you. Still, you couldnt help but suspect there was more to this scheme than your contact let on; especially if it drew the attention of more than just a few select hero groups...
--------------------
Souvenir: A Wrecked Desert Eagle
This heavily modified handgun almost no longer resembles its original design. This was the weapon of an elite Malta Gunslinger code-named Whiskey Tumbleweed 3-4-9, which you acquired after handing the Malta Group a painful defeat after theyd made off with a certain item youd been tasked to acquire in a world-traversing scavenger hunt you like to remember as:
A Series of Peculiar Parts
After settling your mind from your first exploits at the side of Acid Zero, it seemed that what youd done so far hadnt even been the beginning. When you chose to continue working with the strange being, he instructed you to gather for him several components to what ends he would not say, citing that you might well be captured and interrogated. You chose to let him keep his secrets, at least for now.
Apparently, this was a good decision, as when instructed to head for a Siberian base by means of a submarine provided by Viridian, the counter-intelligence specialist prodded you quite a bit that he knew something you didnt. Still, a job was a job, and thus you set out to retrieve the first component from an icy Spetsnaz base near the Arctic Circle. You of course met with resistance, including one operative practically overflowing with enhancing drugs and chemicals, but it wasnt something you couldnt handle. Still, the component was already gone. Someone had gotten there before you, nabbed the macguffin, and made off right under your nose. Guessing who wasnt hard: the Malta Group.
Returning to your contact, he acknowledged their professional manner in the art of sneak, and decided you could do the same. But instead of going in under the radar while a super-powered force raided the Warburg base where theyd taken the component, he set Freedom Corps upon them and told you to go to town. Oddly enough, he also knew the Malta you were now after by name, and told you to keep an eye out for some help from a member of the FC raid force: an ex-Gunslinger named Pete.
It didnt take you long to link up with the man and storm the base, but when you encountered its leaders, they gave you pause. It seemed Malta had more up their sleeves than theyd been letting on all these years. Even with Petes help, getting the component involved a brutal brawl, and even as it appeared youd already won, the Malta activated one of their Kronos Titans in an attempt to subdue you.
Still, you made it out in once piece, and with the prize, which looked like a metal rod encased in a very regular block of ice. It was neither cold to the touch nor did it melt, but your contact once more changed the subject time was of the essence, as the second component was in the hands of a mad roboticist named Midas Phillis, who just then stood in confrontation with his heroic teenage nemesis, Billyboy. After wondering for a moment whether youd suddenly entered a world of clichés, you headed off to defeat both of them (as well as Dr. Phillis horde of rather odd Phillisbots) and made off with your gains while the two blamed one another for your intervention. The component itself didnt look very special yet again, but a holographic CD solid to the touch was somewhat amusing to handle as was the talk with your contact in which you told him of the antics of Billyboy and Dr. Phillis.
But things werent over by a long shot, and just how long it might be became apparent when your contact sent you to Praetorian Earth by means of Operative Grillos portal. After warding off the mad scientists request for a specimen from another world, you entered the parallel universe of the Freedom Phalanxs sinister doubles, and of course encountered two of them while in pursuit of the third component. Still, the operation was a success, and with you returned another metal rod in nevermelting ice.
As if traveling to other worlds hadnt been enough, youd be encountering the denizens of one retrieving the next component as well. Thankfully, this time you only had to make your way to the relatively close Rikti War Zone. There you encountered not only the first signs of cooperation between humans and Rikti, but also Vanguards field commanders Faultline and Fusionette, as well as a rather bored Rikti Warmaster named Chertak. You handed them defeat, but the component had already been moved elsewhere by Vanguard, along with other items on a list you discovered. Worse yet, the Shield had called for backup, and the Sword had obliged, ambushing you with forces great in both number and strength. It wasnt easy getting out of there in one piece.
Still, that left the component not in your hands. You pursued the convoy carrying the component and managed to reach it in the field. Destroying the lead tank to put a permanent stop to the transfer, all seemed to be running smoothly when Wyvern ambushed you out of thin air. Not only had they apparently recovered from your earlier thrashing, but so had Lieutenant Bear and this time, hed brought his boss along: the hidden source behind Wyverns mercenary tactics; Manticore. You prevailed yet again and completed your task, but your globe-hopping wasnt yet over, for after you delivered the tech-hardware-looking component to your contact, he sent you off to another parallel universe: this time one where the Clockwork King had taken ultimate control.
However, the King wasnt your objective. Although your contact welcomed you to take him on, the metal behemoth already stood embroiled in a small task force of heroes from this world. Your target was someone else entirely: a chaos elemental called the Scarlet Eye. Cornered by some manner of lawman from who-knows-where, known as Commander Cynic, you knew youd have to take them both out before you could claim the component. Unfortunately, the battle ended with the escape of the Scarlet Eye to unknown territory, and only once you spoke to your contact again did you discover hed fled to the psychic plane where hed be quite a bit more powerful indeed.
Still, it wasnt something insurmountable. Vanessa DeVore of the Carnival of Shadows had always considered the psychic plane her playing field, and your contact informed you shed come there to carry out some plot he didnt care about, which the Scarlet Eyes arrival had interrupted. That didnt mean shed help you willingly, but it did leave the chaos elemental somewhat unprepared for your sudden arrival, courtesy of Psymon Omegas mental tracking skills and Technician Naylors portal. Using the element of surprise, you disbanded the empowered being of chaos and disorder (though hed be back; they always come back) and took from him the final component: a transparent page with illegible symbols upon it.
Returning to your contact, you could only wonder how all this would fit together not to mention be somewhat suspicious of what was going on. It was big, you knew that much. But now that youd brought him this series of peculiar parts, would Acid Zero divulge to you the secret...? -
"What, you think your gear can prevent us from leaving?" the dark-scaled being retorted bemusedly, but his smile quickly disappeared as he saw the Sky Commander was still there.
"Uma Rom." the towering draconian answered the questioning look, which caused his black-scaled comrade's smile to somewhat return - as did the sudden and unorthodox of a Bane Spider Decimator.
With a loud, drawn-out scream, the powersuited man rocketed into and through the chamber in a course that could barely be recognized as a ballistic arc, tearing through Cynic's force bubble thanks to his still-active suit shielding. In less than a second, he'd cleared the CC center and crashed out the last intact window, then speared the tail of the Black Hawk that had been descending outside in twain.
The helicopter's rear went up in a brilliant fireball, shrapnel speeding away in all directions as the fuselage spun madly out of control, trailing a long plume of thick, black smoke as the aircraft hit the tarmac in flames, its main rotor chewing into the ground and right through a support van, utterly shredding the hapless vehicle.
Outside, the newly arrived heroes likely stood in perfect view of the spectacle, and thus may also have born witness to the second Malta helo pulling away from its cousin's fiery demise, the gunners partially out the main side doors hanging on by the skin of their teeth. The pilot had pulled a harrowing maneuver, heaving the heavy aircraft back up and skyward by a truly mad tilt of its main rotor that caused the craft's machines to echo within the CC with even more horrid tones than before.
Inside, however, the helicopters come to bail them out were now the least of the villains' worries, for in the entryway to the chamber now stood a monster.
Truly, the Ultra couldn't be described as anything else. Rising to nearly five meters, the armor-plated giant caused even the Sky Commander's stature to appear quite small, possessing almost twice the height of the blue-scaled draconian - and that was with the large, leathery wings, which the Ultra certainly didn't have any of. Indeed, the barely two meters of the dark saurian seemed almost dwarven in comparison to this thing.
If it hadn't stood hunched over forward, the Ultra might very well have had something in common with a certain Field Commander; double-sized to boot. It probably carried just as many spikes in about as many places, and the scales that more resembled a further coat of armor than anything else carried an almost blood-red hue.
However, that didn't mean its posture was the only difference to Groul. This thing wore more than just a sword strap and a few limb guards, and the pieces of protective plating that covered the Ultra almost like medieval armor could have stemmed right from the House of the Dead.
Though clearly artificial, the sections of armor bore an almost organic, flesh-grafted appearance that could very well have turned a weak stomach - and if that wasn't enough, chances stood high that its armaments certainly were. The dual artillery mount upon its back didn't sting upon the eye nearly as much as the blade bunkers that sat on the wrists of the Ultra's four-fingered hands; not to mention the piercing glare of its four pupilless eyes, arranged in pairs above one another where one would have expected single, normal oculae. Held in proportion, they appeared almost as slits through the sockets of the thing's scalp-guarding helm.
With no hesitation, the monstrous creature bellowed a titanic roar into the chamber, rattling anything not firmly attached to the floor in a seeming attempt to intimidate Cynic and Tamesis. A droplet-storm of drool thrashed from the gaping, tooth-rimmed maw, and not a second later the Ultra thrashed forward and into Cynic's force bubble, ignorant of the consequences.
What would happen now? Was the bubble rigid as a wall, or could it flex and give? Could the field even hold its own against such momentum? And if so, would the Commander be flung into the air as said momentum transferred to him?
Or would something entirely different come to pass...? -
Or not.
"Is what now?" the second intruder commented aridly at Cynic's attempts ot move either of them, then began to gradually step to the side of the smoke-filled entryway, "Oh, you were hoping these would immobilize us? So sorry to disappoint you. I'm afraid normenergetics aren't enough for that."
An odd sound now arose within the chamber, extremely faint at first, but growing steadily. It resembled that of some overdimensional propeller mixed with that of a base drum and a faulty silencer.
"Now then, if you've got any other bright ideas," the intruder continued smugly, "you've got about six seconds before the first Ultra notices you..."
--------------------
((General warzone - lancer teams are creating general chaos to make sure nothing takes off, with ATCs providing CAS. There would also be troops of the villain groups at the airport, mainly the paramilitary ones. As for characters, they're all in the Arachnos tower right now: Arbiter Tamesis, Commander Cynic and his robots, and of course Ken and Arek.)) -
((Eh, I think I'll wait and see what Dogma and Krazy's charges have to say on that.
))
"Brilliant decision." the dark saurian remarked on Cynic's course of action with dripping sarcasm. As he detention field enclosed him, his hands had once more merged with the folds of the vestment, "So, now what are we going to do? Just stand here until the timers expire? Personally, I wouldn't be opposed if you cared to do so, but I think the TDS approach syndrome is too close for you to change your mind..." -
"That's probably because when you were five, you probably weren't concerned with galactopolitic situations and cosmic factories either." Acid returned with a much-saying and very toothy smile, "And since I imagine you'd like to know now, Khelari reach the morphological status of young adults in about four months. Kerat was a little less than a year of age when I took his form."
"Of course, that part's a story for another day." the reptilian opted to not delve into this aspect of his past, "The main thing is that we grow up fast. Kind of practical, actually. The planet wasn't forgiving, and if you didn't grow thick skin quick, it'd burn you. Ah, we're approaching the atmosphere. Hold on, this'll be a little rough. I'm gonna drop us straight down."
Acid wasn't kidding - in a few moments, things would shake and rattle all about, as if an earthquake had chosen to make its new home in the ship. There wasn't any time to lose, and the Khelari had no intention of slowing the ship to a proper decent speed. Instead, he'd build a force landing, Arcon style... -
"I'm game." Mitch gave answer with a grin most wide, accented even further by his sunglasses, and began to bounce the ball upon the ground, "Goin' for doubles, right?"
"This ought to be amusing." Thermoplast remarked as he too stepped forward to join those already on the court. He turned for a moment to the others of his group, giving them a nod, "Next week, same time?"
"You know it." Mica replied, flashing a metallic smile. This quickly disappeared, however, as her gaze passed the scaled-down dragon, "Hey Mitch, who's gonna keep an eye on Nrev?"
"I...I can do that." Mordes fell in with a bit of a stutter before the other man could respond, "I'll just...I'll just be a little while."
"Most agreeable." Sal nodded, still twisting her arm about a bit, just to make sure everything had gone back together just the way it should, "Very well, we'll see you in a few."
With that, the lich snapped her fingers, and then Mica and she were gone in wisps of icy wind. A flurry of tiny ice crystals fluttered serenely in the air for a short time, then vanished as they melted once more, ending the sparkling dance of crystalline reflections.
The skeleton meanwhile silently took the strange animal over to the bleachers, then took a seat not far from Kruth'T. The reptilian creature turned back toward the courts for a moment, then lay down with its gaze still directed at them. An almost metallic rasp could be heard as its scales scraped along the bleachers for a moment, then fell silent as the being ceased to move significantly... -
The lance commander let out a sigh beneath the cover of his helmet's visor. Behind the armored man, another of the fire team now knelt beside him in the open deployment hatch of the ATC.
"Is it just me," the lance commander murmured to his comrade, "or are they heading right for the airfield?"
"They are."
"So they just fought something really nasty not even a short while back, and now they're heading right for the plainly visible satellite beam?"
"They are."
"Well...do we have to follow them?"
"No." the armored lancer turned his head to the side listlessly, looking back in the direction he knew the Dark Rover, "But we should."
"Hmf." the lance commander uttered gutturally, "Fine. Pilot, get after 'em."
And so in short order, the aerial craft began to pursue the jumpers. Chances are it wouldn't keep up with the rapid succession of teleportations at its current low speed, but the decision to keep the hatches open in case rapid deployment necessitated itself didn't allow for another option...
--------------------
"What's the matter?" the thick-robed figure inquired mockingly, hands reaching to the sides of his hood, "You guys' spit disappear?"
With unexpected leniency, Ken threw back the hood, somewhat begging the question of its point if he could cast it off so laxly. The visage underneath wasn't anything, on the other hand, wasn't anything unexpected. Still, the structure seemed quite a bit more saurian than draconian, and didn't resemble that of the blue-scaled creature one bit - the jaw sat neatly integrated with the rest of the skull, and the spiky appearance concentrated solely upon a few of what were more blade-like plates than spikes. Roughly curved rearward, they began just above the eyes and ran down the back of the neck, presumably to continue down the back and tail beneath the slate-gray vestments.
Like the hue of the clawed hands, the scaled hide of the head stood almost pitch-black, and didn't merge with any keratin plating until the pectoral region, somewhat observable by the wide neck of the robes. Unlike the more draconian intruder, however, this one's plates carried a tint of almost midnight blue, which along with the darkness of the surrounding scales formed a stark contrast to the ornate silver necklace that dangled there, representing who-knew-what.
Still, something about this intruder may well have been surprising - the great number of scars he carried. From the largest right across the face to several smaller ones running here and there, it almost appeared this being had gone through a meat grinder at one point or another. The instincts of any experienced combatant would take this as an instant warning of the highest degree; this guy was dangerous, no doubt about it.
"Or are you just trying to formulate some elaborate plan with which to save yourselves?" the intruder went on, tilting his head a bit in the direction of his blue-scaled comrade, "Sky Commander, I think you're good to go. The Ultras and I'll handle the rest."
"Understood." was the response, the towering creature then placing a hand to the side of his head, "Spearhead Alpha to Control, requesting recall..." -
Gunslinger Pete
Species: Human
Age: 44
Height: 198 centimeters
Occupation: Theoretical Physicist
Likes: Shooting stuff, lazying about, shooting stuff, teaching people things, shooting stuff, pursuing the great mysteries of theoretical physics, shooting stuff, reading a good book, and...shooting stuff
Dislikes: Math, forgetting things, people who think they know better all the time for irrelevant reasons
Favorite food: Steak
Dr. Peter Guggenheim sprang from my mind during a random bout of thought concerning the topic, "What would I be like if I was a perfectly normal human worm-baby?" I blame Zim, myself. Well, you guys know how well that turned out - poor normal went out the airlock, and some demented madman stayed behind.
Still, he was a likeable madman; the kind of guy who's just fun to hang around until he starts thinking about something complex and won't shut up about it until he finds a reasonably satisfying conclusion. It then dawned upon me that Pete had become the scientist in me, more concerned with why something worked than particularly how to make it work. He found enjoyment in simply the fact that the universe is a pretty cool place and deserves to be appreciated for its coolness.
And firearms. He found great enjoyment in firearms as well. So along with the scientist side of me had come the gun nut aspect.
Now, this happened quite a while ago, but even so the actual creation process took place surprisingly quick: about an hour in the CoH costume designer. By the end of that, I'd suddenly brought to life an ex-Malta Special Qualification Marksman who in addition to being a gun-toting physicist also happened to be a Texan.
Why? To be honest, I'm not quite sure. All I know is that out of all the places I've been to, Texas just kind of grew on me. I'd never been sure if I belonged somewhere, and I'm still not 100%, but if it's anywhere at all, then chances are overwhelmingly positive that it's Texas. I like the size of things (not everything, but a good many things are bigger in Texas, it's true), I like the people, and even the climate is hot enough to be to my liking for 2/3 of the year. It's just a great place, and I really feel comfortable there - so oddly enough, it would seem I've been a Texan all along and just never knew it. Go figure.
Malta was quite the obvious choice as well. For starters, who else would have the proper line of work for someone with such...um...unique qualifications? A Desert Eagle generally doesn't mix well with a particle accelerator, but thankfully the Malta Group has the good sense to look past such minor discrepancies.
Too bad their ideas weren't on par. So I decided Pete had quit; just like I would have had I found myself in such a situation. And just like I would have been, he ended up being quite sneaky and [WHOA! NOT A PLEASEANT IMAGE!], which quickly curbed any would-be rehiring efforts.
Pete's story somewhat stopped there for a while, partially because beyond this little scope here I had difficulty imagining life under these conditions - especially without my job! I mean, I can't really see myself ever doing anything else, and so the rock blocking my path there just kind of sat there and laughed.
Well, some time later I spoke about Pete with a friend of mine - and just as always, this friend delivered to me an insight like few others can even begin to muster. Chances are this was because this friend is just as much a madman as me, if not even a little bit more.
So Pete became a teacher, just like the professors here at my university. Okay, so maybe not 'just like'...hmmm, wait...'just like some of'. There. Dr. Fleck certainly has more than one thing in common with his fictional colleague.
Not only that, but at that time I'd already taught marksmanship at the academy for a while, and though I'd never considered doing that more than part-time, teaching really made perfect sense in the end. Funny how things work out sometimes, isn't it? Yep, the universe is a pretty cool thing. -
It's a door, Khell. It does not need to digest something to eat it.
-
((Pst - the ATC's still right there.
))
-
Hm, I do think you're right. Indeed, I shall scribble that on my to-do list.
-
Oh, that's an easy one - the door opens when I'm not looking. Then when I look, it's closed again, and whatever came out is in the status of "Theft - runawayyy!" prompting me to chase after it, during which time I am of course not looking, so something else comes out.
See? Simple. -
Silly professor, you should've known better than that - it's never safe here.
So then, where are other people's already? Not that I'd care, you understand. -
Why, my do-not-open door, of course. Do you live in a cave?
-
"Ouch." the blue-scaled remarked morbidly as Cynic's squad stabbed their would-be rescuers in the back, clawed fingers scratching along the keratin plates beneath the draconian chin, "Very ouch. Hm, well. Takes care of my problem."
The towering creature planted his staff-like weapon vertically beside his feet, Cynic's detention field closing about him rendering him unable to participate further. Still, he'd done so beforehand, which stood suspicious to say the least.
Only the Zeus Titan had survived the betrayal with functionality, quickly swinging about and picking the first-best target for its terrifying signature strike: a quad plasma blast. If it had to go out, it'd do so with a bang.
Even so, the surprises today just didn't seem to want and end to them. Not a moment after the machine had roared off its blast, a pulse of crackling blue energies that much resembled some sort of seismic shock wedded to an ocean wave rushed into the CC chamber and picked up the Titan, smashing it against Cynic's force bubble with no hesitation.
This sudden contact of something with a good deal more momentum that Commander Cynic likely caused the man to now sail backwards, or at least it would if his force bubble acted like a solid wall of such. In either case, however, the energy pulse seemed rather undeterred, slamming into that field, continuing on, ramming the dispersion bubble, continuing on yet again, and finally flinging everyone that it happened to catch within its semi-radial, semi-conical field of impact a small distance back, and of course to the ground.
Thankfully, Cynic's shields had managed to protect their charges from the worst of it, but force was force, and the impact of such certainly wasn't something to be taken lightly. Nobody had suffered any direct harm - except perhaps a few bruises upon one's rear end - and while electronic imaging systems carried a fair amount of static for the next few seconds, Cynic's robotic force may well not have employed electricity in the first place.
Still, there wasn't anyone left standing right now, this was a fact. With all that had been going on at the time, the wave had come much too fast to avoid, even by esoteric methods, such as teleportation behind the thing.
The auto turrets a few Malta engineers had managed to place, however, hadn't been quite so fortunate. They'd been torn to pieces and molten to slag - a good indicator of what could have happened if Cynic's protective fields hadn't been there.
Then again, things could always get worse.
With the characteristic clacks of claws upon metal, a cloak-clad figure emerged from the obscuring smoke of the hallway, the assembly of slate-gray vestments advancing into the CC chamber step by rather quiet step. Cynic and Tamesis of course didn't know this, but indeed the figure was the same being Energon X had met in the hangar of the Dark Rover.
"My thanks to you, gentlemen." the veiled saurian creature told them smugly as the black innards of the hood surveyed the scene, catching sight of the barely-alive TacCom fumbling for something that should've been on his munitions belt.
"Are we looking for this?" the new arrival extended an arm, pushing back the slate-gray sleeve to taunt the stricken man with his detonator in the palm of a four-fingered, black-scaled hand whose digits terminated in much the same claws as the towering draconian's, "Too bad. And you were so close..." -
Be patient, my good man. I couldn't put everyone in just the first half, you know.
-
((Fine, I see you either can't or don't want to see my point, for whichever reason don't want to sort it out. I suppose you leave me no choice then. Discussion terminated.))
The mind was a truly fascinating thing, especially with respect to the lengths it could go to delude oneself. City Hall was neither deserted nor was anyone sure if the MAGI vault was truly empty or not.
After all, the doors had been locked.
If someone wanted to know of the happenings inside, they'd actually have to enter and have a look about. Where Wonederful had gotten his delusions was a good question, but not exactly relevant to the fact that they'd been gravely mistaken.
"Must have been the wind." a Lieutenant remarked, shouldering his Storm Rifle with a shrug after he'd spied through the dirty windows of City Hall's doors. With indifferent demeanor, he returned to his previous station. There was still work to be done, after all... -
OOC:
Okay Draden, I can see you're not getting the point here. Allow me to clarify a few things:
1) The Nemesis Army soldiers are not my characters. They are, however, NPCs under my control. As such, they have a job to do with which they shall tell a story.
2) I see you took control of them. That is not okay. In fact, it is very, very rude. As I said, they have a job to do, which means they are performing actions under my discretion. For you to hijack them and have them do something else instead breaks the story I am having them tell. I would appreciate if you didn't do this in the future.
3) If there are people (and last I checked, Nemesis soldiers were still people) within City Hall that are close enough to barely hear someone crying outside, then logically City Hall is not deserted.
4) If City Hall is not deserted (which it is not), there is little to no chance that the people inside wouldn't notice someone entering the building. It's not exactly very large.
In summation, please do not take control of NPCs that other people are currently writing for, nor the environment in which said NPCs currently are. Also, I would appreciate if you remedied this situation by editing your initial post wherein your character entered the doors of City Hall.