Kasoh

From the Crey Nerva office, there were not so many options. The ferry, of course, old Reliable. As she walked out the door, Dynamo Rose checked the Ferry Schedule, and was not impressed.

Rather than risk teleport lag, Rose went straight to the Black Helicopter and demanded a drop off at the Four Suits. Arachnos Pilots were some of the most accomdating pilots she had ever met, and a part of her was always suspicious about it. At the moment, she had no time to waste on thoughts like that.

She waited a minute to let anyone else using the transportation get on, and then told the pilot to move it.

Seven minutes later, Rose jumped off the Flier onto the roof of the Casino.

The Four Suits Casino was by far less gaudy than the Golden Giza, but in a strange Neon lights fashion, it was dimished by that.

The Marcone at the roof access held up his shotgun, but quickly stepped side, "Dynamo Rose! Tell Basse we're paid up already!"

Ignoring the outburst, Rose stepped inside, charging up her armor, the red electrical field crackling to life as she started working her way to Room 1209.

Keying her comm, she said, "I'm at the casino, top floor."

Rose stifled the laugh that tried to escape her throat. Her? Lead a ragtag crew of mercenaries on a investigation? Who did she look like, Hannibal? Leading the characters found in the Etoile Islands was like trying to herd cats. If Manning was going to shove that load on her, she'd need more money.

Shrugging, she handed over the paper copies of the file Manning gave her to Dr. Lore. "This is what we have. I'll transmit electronic copies to anyone capable of recieving."

Rose thanked Manning for his time, collected the files and made her way back down to the lobby. It had gotten considerably more crowded since she arrived.

Looking at the mixed group she found herself in, Rose nodded to her fellow rogues, "You guys here for Missing peoples contract?"

The redhead pointed her thumb at herself, "Dynamo Rose. If you want to talk to Manning he's free. I'd go as a group though I'm sure he doesn't want to tell the same story a dozen times. I've got the basics of the case, they'll be ready for electronic perusal in a few minutes."

Rose sat down and began to hold each sheet up her eye plate, the microcomputer wired in her armor digitized the sheet into a handy .pdf and she moved through the rest of the file with ease. After she was done, she began to peruse the information, trying to decide on where to start.

While a large part of him was dissapointed he hadn't gotten to see any Kheldian Energy Blasts, Michael Velsnir instead had witnessed an impressive bout of verbal judo. It had even given him flashback to his time in Catholic School.

The power of guilt. He considered the applications for several moments, psychological factors and whatnot. His mind had already weaponized it and built three bombs and two ray guns on the principle, but as he stood next to the group, a little warning in his head starting going off.

The laws of improbability had to be responsible for this. Using the brain that had gotten the label 'child genius' forced upon him, Michael did the quantom calculations, carrying the 3.4--everyone always forgot to carry the 3.4 in improbability calculations.

Yes, yes. This place was now a zone of improbability. That was the only explanation his mind was willing to accept. He had best make a hasty retreat to observe any other effects of the zone before it collapsed upon itself.

Michael walked forward, shook Mrs. Troy's hand, "Very impressive Ma'am. Took me back to the nuns at St. Agnes." as he walked off he called out "Best of luck with the milk, sir."

He walked down to a Bus Stop and sat down, pulling out a notepad and pencil. A part of his mind began to theorize why he had never actually seen a Paragon City Bus at a bus stop, but he focused most of his not inconsiderable brainpower on sketching the improbability zone.

After all, they didn't give degrees in Applied Pseudo-Science for nothing.

((Ah, my bad for having a scene with two similarily named characters. totally escaped me. Rose is just a brute, The Nightwidow was just there to establish a monetary motive and hint at Rose's backstory))

Dynamo Rose took the offered seat. Touching a small keyboard on her gauntlet, she activated a note taking device. "Metas with Regenerative powers are missing. Heroes and Neer'do'wells."

"Any other contractors I should be liasing with?" She offered her communication links.

"Names of the missing persons and known associates, if available. Witnesses to said dissapearances."

"Just regeneration? Magical, Tech, Muties, whatever?"

"When did the pattern start?"

"Who is the competition in this mess, I mean--who else wants to know this and would like us to fail."

"Since Heroes are missing as well, can Crey arrange a cover and transpo to Paragon if needed?"

"What's the deadline and how often will the office want updates?"

"You the primary contact for said updates?"

Most of the people she knew didn't like Nerva Archepeligo. It took forever to get anywhere, Longbow hassled everyone, and you couldn't go out to buy a pack of smokes without stepping over a mutant freak or demon begging favors.

Rose O'Grady snorted as she passed by a group of mobsters blatantly tossing one of their ilk into the salty waters. The Capo of the group looked up and stared at her, probably wondering if she was carrying anything valuable enough to kill her over. The redhead turned to face the Capo, hoping he would recognize the distinctive faceplate that covered one half of her face. She had no mind to let some Marcone scum try and take anything from her.

All the gangsters stopped what they were doing to see what was up. A simple bio electric pulse activated her armor, sending thousands of volts of angry red electricity dancing over her body. Clenching her fist, the heavy multilayered gauntlets on her hands drew excess energy from her body, forming bright red balls of power.

They turned back to their work.

Several blocks down the street, Rose stepped into a small diner, immediately spotting the Nightwidow sitting in the back of the place drinking tea. Walking over to the Arachnos Agent, Rose sat down opposite the assassin.

"Operative Jameson."

"Dynamo Rose."

"The files?" Rose asked.

Handing over a thumbdrive, the Nightwidow shrugged, "Not much. GW or Scicc didn't have anything to do with it. It'll take more care to access The Capn's kill list. Its more risky."

She narrowed her eyes, this was a familiar song and dance, "How risky Jameson?"

The Nightwidow sipped her tea, "100,000 risky."

It was an outrageous sum, especially for information that might not even pan out. But, it was hard to find an honest Spider. Operative Rosemary Anne-Magdelene Jameson was the closest she'd found.

"You only get half until I get results."

"I can live with that. The usual account, eh Red?"

The Nightwidow tossed some change onto the table and left. Dynamo Rose pulled a letter from her pocket and stared at the name. Well, she'd need money again, and if this Gregory Manning was offering Medical and Dental, it might be worth her time.

It was a short trip to Crey's Nerva building and signing the contract took even less. They handed over an access pass to the Medical facility and laboratory, and Rose made an appointment with Manning to get real details.

Hopefully it would be more interesting than robbing Paragon's 1st National Bank Peregrine Branch again.

((Dynamo Rose, Technology Energy Melee/Electric Armor/Leaping/Fitness/Medicine/Mu Brute))

Don't make eye contact, its a sign of aggression. Don't walk too fast, you'll make youself a target. Don't walk slow either, Just...act casual.

Casual. Right. That might be more difficult than it appeared. Michael Velsnir didn't know what casual would even look like to the brutes who endlessly loitered on the city streets.

Keeping his head down, his hands shoved into his pockets the tall, lankey man quickly--but not too quickly--walked down the street.

Council soldiers spouted their 'espirit de corps' from--was that a soapbox?--as he passed, and Michael paid them no mind. When he was a boy, he used to enjoy sitting on the steps of his apartment building where everday three Fifth Column soldiers stood and yelled the same thing. Some days nothing happened, but most of them A hero would come and beat them up. Michael wondered idly if there was a way to beat a fascist unconscious he hadn't seen.

As he was walking he caught the sight of an older gentleman conversing with the most garishly dressed woman he had ever seen. Several things came to mind, but he dismissed his opinions. He kept his mind open, as it wouldn't be polite to draw conclusions without suffcient empirical evidence.

He heard the voice from above, approximately 15 feet above them on a window sill, and it piqued his curiosity. Ah. Alien metahuman. Could be Kheldian, if he remembered his alien species correctly.

Michael had very few examples of Kheldian powers, so it might be interesting to watch and see what happened.

Not because he enjoyed garish violence. But...for science. Yes. Science.

"If I knew how to work this stupid thing," Alana replied, shaking the hand with the bracelet on it in front of him to indicate what 'stupid thing' she was talking about, "then I would have already invited you. But I don't, so I haven't"

Cinderstorm rolled her eyes. They came with instructions. A ginormous .pdf manual, searchable and indexed. Why did people bother to even make manual's anymore if no one would read them? It had been three years since she'd been promoted from Tech Support--so she decided to frame it as On the Job Training.

She jogged after Alana, speaking up to explain, "Its easy, once you figure out the buttons. You select the hero, using your friend list, manually entering it in the data entry, or tagging the hero's comm unit the same way you manually select targets." Cinderstorm looked down at her unit as Alana burned the Hellions.

"There are certain actions you can select while interacting with a hero's comm unit. Adding them to your friend list, Supergroup interactions, linking the comm units to form a team. Like so." Cinderstorm pressed a few buttons, sending out the invites.

Alana's, Justin's, and Vortex's comm units all chirped with the invite.

Cinderstorm eyed the group of Hellions Alana had been burning and she framed another fireball.

Watching Alana burst into flames, Cinderstorm almost yelled out. How could somebody do that to themselves? Remembering that not everyone was as neurotic as she was, Cinder shook the feeling off and eyed the situation again. Alana had caught their attention, but whatever arcane power fed them, allowed Hellions to resist fire too. Don't be petty, she told herself. Be heroic.

She didn't hide the scoff.

Cinder had been a Pryokinetic since she was 14 years old, and hadn't consciously done anything more than light cigarettes and drinks with the ability for eleven years. Concentrating on her hands, a trickle of flame danced on her palm. Framing the group carefully, Cinder calculated the gaps she'd need and tossed her hand forward, the small flame growing in size as it traveled until it exploded in the center of the Hellions, catching their clothes on fire as the Hero Interface calculated their remaining level of Hostility Percentage.

Ignoring her shaking hand, Cinderstorm approached the fight, staying out of Alana's fire as she threw a burst of flame at a Hellion, who ducked the blast.

One of the Hellions turned from the mob, a pistol in his hands. Throwing herself to the ground, Cinder drove some gravel into her exposed mid-rif. The shot went high, and Cinderstorm scrambled to her feet, unconsciously stepping towards Justin and Alana.

A long beam of fire appeared in her hand, hardly resembling a Fire Sword as the technique was commonly known, but even that much solid control made her feel better. The Hellion closed, getting back in range of Alana's blazing aura.

He didn't need to say anything, because a new hero arrived on the scene. Cinderstorm said his thoughts directly, and he nodded to her, extending a hand. "Nathan Retz, although I guess you guys can be calling me Vortex"

Shaking Vortex's hand, Cinder smiled a little, at least one of them was polite. "Vortex it is then. Feel free to chop Cinderstorm down if you need to. Cin, Cinder, Cindy, I've heard'em all."

She watched Justin run off, intent on healing his masculine pride through violent combat. Yeah, she could have handled that better. Did she care? Noticing that she hadn't stormed off in a direction of her own, that must mean more than she should. Still, just goes to show what happens when you stick your neck out for total strangers. You get hosed. One thing was certain, Justin had just given her a big red button. Push, push, push.

Shrugging at Alana, Cinderstorm avoided looking at the short woman's flaming hands, "I suppose I could have been more subtle with the name, but yeah. Fire powers." Cinder sighed, she was doing it again. Never going to make friends at this rate.

She could have ran after Justin, but she kept her pace a clipped walk. Cinder saw him talking to those Hellions, getting ready to fight. She tabbed through his opponents, weighing the odds. Maybe he'd beat them, maybe he wouldn't. Vortex was backing him up, unless those Hellions leveled up in the time it took her to get there, they'd be fine.

It wasn't odd to see heroes around Miss Liberty in Atlas Park, though it was a little strange to see one argueing with the interactive holograms.

Her shoulder length hair was dark red, almost maroon, pushed out of her eyes by a set of blast goggles resting on her forehead. Red tights with a flame motif running up and gold jewled belt made her at least look superheroic, but the angry expression in her blood red eyes was not that friendly

"So let me get this straight." the woman said irritably, "Even though they're my...powers and I come up with all the fascinating new ways to use them, I can't actually use new ones until I TALK TO A GODSDAMNED HOLOGRAM?!"

"Welcome to Security Level 6, Cinderstorm." the faux Miss Liberty replied in that sickingly sweet-holier-than-thou voice of hers.

"You gotta be kidding me. I'm twenty-five years old and I have to have my hand held by a hologram..." Cinderstorm mumbled as she activated the silent interface and updated her hero Identification.

That chore completed, Her ID card saying she could now run faster, so it was okay to do so, Cinderstorm took a deep breath and wandered over to City Hall.

She plucked at the red 'hacker' top she had been given at Icon as part of the HWP program 'Heroes Without Patrons' and it turns out fire retardent material was more expensive, so the credit token actually wouldn't be enough to cover her entire body. Lucky enough to get the bottom half of the bodysuit, she still considered it embarassing, she didn't have the chest to pull this off.

Stopping at the bottom of the steps, she saw some other heroes chatting. They looked a little lower in security level, and she overheard something,

"Well, every time I defeat someone," he looked around and beckoned for Alana and Nathan to get closer so he could whisper, "they disappear. And these origin guys make all this come off so real but... I'm thinking this might just be a training simulation before we get to the real stuff. Which is cool, "Brian stood up again and returned to his normal voice, "because I'm not tryna die anytime soon."

Cinderstorm watched for a couple of seconds in which the the woman wandered off and tried to tell herself it wasn't her business, but damn if she let another kid almost die because she could have done something.

Taking on way to much responsibility for one day sober...she thought darkly as she approached Justin.

"Hey, Keep this in mind. From the day you got that card, it is real. Real bullets, real knives, real fire. Hellions, Skulls, Vhazilok they want to hurt people, its our job to stop them. And...christ on a crutch you could have gotten that speech from the hologram...Sorry kid."

"I'm Cinderstorm, I've been at this probably a few more hours than you, but I'll help you out if you want it."

Explosions and gunfire punctured the air, leading Quex right to the heart of combat. It was well underway as she arrived, the downside of not being a god among mortals.

Frowning, Quex drew her sword as she examined the scene. Everyone looked scattered, chaos ruining the lines. Still she recognized the Skull tribe--she'd routed them before, and after a couple of seconds of observation she was able to conclude where the others lay.

Leaping from the rooftop onto a large SWAT van, Quex ignored the buckling of her knees as she collapsed the roof the vehicle in. Another short leap put her on the ground next to a couple of Skulls. One had a small axe, the other a gun. Cute toy, those guns. Makes everyone a warrior.

A two handed hack severed the Skull from his weapon hand, and she delfected the axe with her gauntlet. A kick to the other man's knee brought him down and she gave him a slow gut wound. It pained her to not give these warriors an honorable death, but her instructions were clear.

She picked up the severed warrior's hand and dipped her fingers in the blood. Quex smeared the blood across her eyes in a large X and raised her bloodied sword.

Quex bellowed the fierce battlecry of her ancestors, Though no man alive had ever heard the language spoken, its intent was clear enough.

Gunfire grazed her arm and she looked at another group of Skulls shooting wildly. Her face grim, Quex snarled and leapt like a pouncing tiger into the group, rising to the challenge they offered.

After a deep breath, Quex pulled open the door to the two six building and strode inside, bumping shoulders with a man dressed as one of the city's messengers. The man half turned to glare and say something, but she ignored him.

She approached the desk where a man was stuffing a manilla folder into a basket. Reaching into her belt pouch, Quex retrieved the crumbled ball of paper that she had been given and told to hand over when reporting in. It wasn't so different from when her tribe would offer a warrior to warring tribe as a way of peacemaking. Though they usually sacrificed the offering to the Wolf mother.

Looking up, the blonde man snorted, "Another one? Nothing for weeks and now look at all you roaches springing up. Hey, FNG--" He snatched the wadded paper from her hand, "There's a situation at the Kings Row Bank. Get there, report to Newton."

Quex rose an eyebrow at the rude man, though she wasn't familiar with effingees she was sure she wasn't one. Still her previous caretakers who had attempted to isntruct in her the basics of this era had been most adamant that respect wasn't taught at the end of a sword anymore.

He was obviously in a position of power here, and it would not help her situation to offend the current chieftain's agents. She took a short sniff to capture this man's scent, and turned around to stride out the door.

She began to run, and jumped onto a parked car, and from there leapt to a windowsill, the old brick cracking under her weight. Quex leapt from the window to a streetlight, and back up the building. In a few seconds she was on the roof, leaping rooftop to rooftop, looking for the telltale signs of flashing lights that indicated the police tribe setting up a war party.

As she ran and leapt, she noticed that others were tracking their way across the city. They could be heroes, maybe even this 'Newton' she was supposed to find, but she had no way of knowing.

Well she'd know soon enough. Foes tried to kill you, friends did not.

She stands an impressive six foot five, "two hands above her father." Clad in piecework leather armor, it covers most of her torso and stretches down to mid thigh, with a few fine pieces of leather mesh where the armor has been crudely patched. Grey metal plates armor her shoulders and heavy sinister armor cover her forearms and shins. Her look is usually fierce, a bronze tiara keeps her long hair out of the narrow gaze of her green eyes. Armed with the sword of her father and an indomitable will to live, she is Quex.

Crouched near an alleyway across from the old building Quex eyed the structure warily. Lo, on the side were the icons of the 'two six' the building she had been instructed to make her territory for the time being.

Taking an experimental sniff of the air, she stifled a cough. The tall brunette didn't like King's Row, all the tall buildings of brick and mortar kept reminding her of just how out of her element she was. After failing in Steel Canyon and lukewarm receptions elsewhere, the graceful savage was terribly aware of the city-chief's stern gaze. If she couldn't fit in here, they'd take her sword and armor and let the pokers and prodders hunt her.

Touching the bronze hilt of her sword that she securely strapped to her back, Quex, last daughter of the Skullplains tribes, warrior, and woman out of time stepped up to the door.

(Once a day? I should be able to handle that. Never coordinated via PM before so that's fresh for me.)

*edit to add description

Ceus floated over next to Noble and stared at the characters drawn in the sand.

"Moon, winter, darkness." she translated, speaking quietly. A sinking feeling creeping up her limbs to travel into the center of her torso, the proverbial weight almost lowering her to the ground.

"That's not what I just entered..." Ceus slowly spun, turning to look at the now quivering pillars. Their shaking become more and more violent.

Drawing upon the netherworld's chilling embrace, Ceus formed a faint cloud of protective energy around her.

With a push of her hand, Ceus transferred a vast amount of potential energy to Noble, it would speed up his movements and keep him from tiring.

The rings exploded in a cloud of sand as a giant ant pulled itself from the depths of the earth.

"Oops."

Doomtastic felt a strange jerk and looked around.

She could have swore she had leapt after Mr. Invincible, but she couldn't see him anymore. And here she was, feet flat on the ground.

She turned to Recylcer, "Huh. Mapserver."

With an exagerated shrug, she began to whistle, waiting for the next do-gooding interloper.

[ QUOTE ]
"Did you see that?"

[/ QUOTE ]

She never turned away from the puzzle. Turning the outer ring several revolutions, Ceus began to see the pattern. Quickly, she spun it and and the inner ring.

A deep ka-chunk was heard from deep within the earth.

Trying not to feel to satisfied, Ceus finally turned to Noble.

"No. What's it doing?"

Doom hated fighting scrappers. It was like looking into a twisted mirror of someone who loved fighting as much as she did, but somehow had the self control to be...good. Like her sister.

"Only half sister!" she reminded herself brightly.

So she pointedly ignored the new hero. If she didn't acknowledge him, he'd go away. Like hiding in Siren's call.

She did see Mr. Invincible loaded for bear trying to get the jump on Grahn. Grahn was not as big a stick in the mud as Recycler, and a fellow connoisseur of the fight. With a push of her legs that cracked the ruined street pavement beneath her, she leapt right towards Mr. Invincible.

"Tsk, tsk. Sneaking up like that. Inexcusable. And you're a good guy! I'm am absolutely appalled at your behavior. What would Ray say?"

Heading on a midair collision course, she reached back her right fist, a huge grin spreading on her face.

"One of these days, Alice, one of these Days!"

For the most part Doomtastic ignored her radio when working with other people. It was rare for her to be in a group large enough to split up and take on multiple objectives.

Still she acknowledged the chatter that the inside team had found the MacGuffin so hopefully in a few minutes they'd be on the escape portion of the day's activities.

She backhanded the last standing Longbow flunkie. With a glance at the longbow at her feet, Doom checked the burning building where the remainder of the Longbow were still working on containment. Content to ignore them, she nudged the Officer whose hands she was sure would never be able to pull a trigger again.

As second takes went, it was okay. A little anti-climatic. Most of them toppled like a long game of Jenga. That last flamethrower had some spunk though. She only broke his leg and arms.

The emergency forcefield generator was quickly dispatched, allowing Jameson to drive up in a Wentworth's rig with tractor trailer.

The Arachnos assassin got out of the vehicle, "Not that this isn't fun, but I've got to get back."

Doom nodded and patted the assassin on the back, "I'll call if I need you."

"Don't." and she tossed down a small glass capsule, which exploded in a cloud of purple smoke. Before the smoke faded, Jameson was gone.

Walking over to Recycler she noted Grahn had temporarily relieved himself of Mr. Invincible.

"Look at that. A moment of piece and quiet. "So..." Doom put her arms behind her back and rocked on her heels, "How does Hitler tie his shoelaces?"

The perpetually cheery brute didn't even wait, she learned that most villains had no discernable appreciation of bad jokes, nor the inclination to humor her, "In little knotsies!"

Doomtastic lurched forward and vomited as her body reacted with the Recycler's vaporous tiberium. While retching was preferable to being unconscious or arrested she regretted having already paid for the lunch she was heaving up. If the building was still standing, she'd demand a refund as the food wasn't there anymore.

She carefully stood, patting her body down in wonder at the flawless skin forming where shredded skin had been just moments before. Doomtastic was pretty sure the possibility existed that she simply could not die, a previous run in with Manticore's teleport arrow led her to the idea that her organs were even more indestructable than her skin. Though bleeding out would have been bad she supposed...

"Well, that was embarassing. Sonic Grenade 152-Doomtastic 7032..." She said cheerfully. "I 'preciate the wake up call boss, though I'm also a little sad you didn't think I was good enough to be a zombie minion. I'd be a pretty smokin corpse."

She gave the crystallic necromancer a quick hug and walked off towards the Longbow again.

A dry chuckle escaped her lips, still stained with her own blood. Female zombies. Hah. Women were never mercenaries or ninjas either. the very idea was laughable.

Doomtastic waved at the Longbow, "Hey! I betch'a can't do that twice!"

((Edited to not use the same personal pronoun so many times))

The sun had risen to midday, the effect of the scorching heat lost on Ceus as she focused on the magic puzzle in front of her.

The massive pieces of an ancient combination lock stared back at Ceus as she stared at them. She didn't have eyes, and it wasn't alive, so the winner was hard to determine.

She spoke to Noble didactically. Not to undermine his intelligence, but it made her feel more comfortable for the people she interacted with to have a role in relation to her. Teacher/Student, Master/Slave, Boss/Minion. Being someone's equal was a concept long foriegn to her.

"Seventeen spaces on the outer ring, twenty on the inner. With the runes and the centerpiece there could be as many 2040 combinations."

"Could try'em all." she said, "But that takes to long. I'll try to translate the runes again, see if any of them make up some words or phrases. You get any epiphanies, shout out."

Calmly walking by the hero engaged in mortal combat with zombies and an eight foot tall wrecking ball, Doomtastic waved at the squad of Longbow trying to move in to secure the area.

She noticed the blue shimmering field stretching up, the Longbow must have erected an emergency force field. It would have to be the next item on her to do list.

"Hi boys! Looking for trouble?"

She quickly assessed her enemy. Six riflemen, 3 Flamethrowers, 3 Eagles, and a Longbow Officer in the back. No specs or Nullies, easy day. The all brought their weapons to bear on Doom.

She reveled for a moment in the thrill of rifle rounds bouncing off her skin, impacting harmlessly even as the heat of the flamethrower streaming over her body made her stomach clench.

Ignoring the ill feeling, Doom pointed at the rifleman closest to her, "So, what do you get when two marsupials duel?"

She grabbed his gun and threw it into the the officer sending him reeling backwards. She punched the dearmed rifleman in the face, breaking his nose.

"Trial by wombat!"

She charged into a cluster of troops, stomping her foot to the ground to knock most of them off balance. As she grabbed a Flamethrower and threw him into a parking meter, she heard the disconcerting 'thwump' of a grenade launcher.

Standing behind the cover of a large dumpster were two Nullifiers, and the screeching that was ringing in her ears was a pair of sonic grenades.

The sonic waves pulsed through her, and they would switch frequencies till they found one that would turn her indestructable skin into the Tacoma Narrows bridge

She slammed her hands together, creating a wave of hard air that slammed the two Nullies back.

Even with her ears bleeding from the sonic assault, she heard the distinct retort of a rifle burst.

The rounds punched into her back, shredding her skin like tissue paper, as she staggered forward, she felt several more bullets slam into her chest.

Her hands instinctivly clutched the wounds, the dark red blood hard to see on her red bustier and gloves.

She hadn't felt pain like this in years. She faced the Longbow Officer, his frankenrifle held up to his shoulder.

Blood dribbled from her lips, "Two--" she coughed wetly, "--two guys walk into a bar."

Doomtastic fell to her knees, hands falling helplessly to her side.

"The third one ducked."

and she fell face first to the ground laying immobile in a pool of her own blood.

Doomtastic eyed the DATA building carefully. She'd lost a bet with her sister and couldn't rob anything in Paragon City for a whole month. She figured beating up people and blowing up buildings wasn't robbing, but she probably should stay outside. Fortunately, rather than have to explain her awkward circumstances, she saw Mr. Invincible approaching.

"Jameson, be that sneaky little thing you are and steal us another getaway vehicle, won't you? Silos threatened to kick me out of Ouroboros if I didn't stop using it as a thoroughfare."

The Blood widow sighed in a way that implied her amazing talents were being wasted on Grand Theft Truck, but soon slinked away from the fight.

Pointing at the Hero flying in to save the day, or at least ruin theirs, Doomtastic raised her fist in the classic 'Rock, Paper, Scissors' pose. "Well, I'd get on with the minion making then, we've got company. You want the cape or the candycanes?"

((Not sure how it would work in a post by post method, but its rock.))

((See and here I was just making stuff up.))

Completely ignorant of almost ending the world, Doomtastic reached a hand out to help Recycler up, "I'm adding the cost of a Warburg Rocket to my fee. They represent a significant time investment. I was saving that one too. I was going to ruin this years Master's Tournament. Can you imagine the face on those golfers when their par 5 is full of dead grass and the water hazards are chemical baths?"

Doomtastic smiled brightly at the man who interposed himself between the chemical burn and herself. It was rather sweet even if he wanted to beat her poor Raymond into a pulp, "Life is so much easier when you stop limiting yourself to the sane choices."

She watched the dissolving Tiberium, "I just realized something. Ray is over there."

She pointed to the still inert form of Positron

"So...where's his sidekick? Val-something-norse-or other."