Kasoh

Only thing on between Chuck and Castle that interested me, so I tuned in. It was kind of fascinating, but short of the male lead there just wasn't enough likeable characters.

...now I have to find something else to watch.

The Darkseid fight was pretty cool. I love me some Andre Braugher. The animation was really slick, and I could see the Michael Turner inspiration. Wonder Woman always kicks so much *** in these animated pieces where Superman just brawls and her fight scenes always seem to outshine Supes.

Aside from Wonder Woman and Superman knocking on a door in suburbia, What was most amusing is that When you put Superman, Batman, and Wonderwoman in a team setting, Batman is the one cracking jokes. I also liked how he stayed out of the heavy fighting and his contribution was to stare down Darkseid. Totally awesome.

The Green Arrow short was also very well done. That's how I wish Green Arrow was always done.

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both”

Nobody else got it, but Robert Frost was a pretty misanthropic son of a *****. “Road Not Taken” indeed. The apathy, the death, the pointlessness of it all. Did it really matter which way she went? Death was at the end of every road anyway.

His hand—his real hand—grabbed her shoulder. She saw it coming, allowed it. He knew that she knew and took pleasure in the trust. “Rose. We can bring her in without killing her, to see a jury, have a trial. She’s not worth it.”

Even here in Paragon City, the sun-shiny bastion of heroic derring-do she couldn’t see the point of it. So what?

He collapsed against her, his single blue eye staring into hers, the fool just got stabbed in the chest and he was happy about it. Because it wasn’t her. Stupid sentimental quack. Jameson felt the warmth of his blood spilling onto her armor and he just smiled as she started to toss his heavy mass aside to lunge at the figure in black already trying to fade into the shadows.

Operative Rosemary Anne-Magdalene Jameson stood at such a crossroad, much like Frost did; complex decision metaphor and all. “Why?” lingered on her thoughts. Why was it even a question?

Blood was all she could smell, her entire torso plate was dripping with it, overpowering the usually sweet smell of her Widow poison. When she wetted her lips, she could taste the bitter red liquid. She was straddling her opponent, a slightly woman dressed in black spandex decorated with ridiculous red slashes that did a fair job of covering the actual wounds Jameson had cut into her. Thigh, upper arm, knee, gut. Jameson shifted, putting more pressure on her knees, which pinned the woman’s clawed hands to the ground. Her long Widow blades were crossed over the crazy woman’s throat.

Janice Sanderson, aka The Astral Assassin stared dully back up at Jameson. The poison did it, kept her slow and sluggish, and it would wear off soon. Crazy people often didn’t know their own strength and this was most certainly the case in relation to Sanderson.

Further out, the bodies of three people she didn’t know or care about were cooling, three punctures deep in their chests to their hearts. One blow executions, the Astral Assassin’s trademark. Sanderson had just finished her latest work when they had arrived on scene. The report was half written already, the plain and neutral language came to her just as easily as her action in combat.

At approximately 2343, Operative Jameson, Rosemary received and interpreted a Class VI psychic event. Initial accuracy rating according to PSYOPMAN 12.331 was a 67%.

At approximately 2351 Jameson acquired local intelligence from a reliable source and utilized OPMANARAC SI 478.32c to gain the assistance of local freelancer: Dr. Onnoroc, Kasoh---

Jameson didn’t have to glance the few feet back to see Kasoh crumpled on the ground, slowly bleeding from a similar wound to that of the civillains that the Assassin preferred to target. The future was her domain, often living minutes ahead of the people she encountered. He was still alive, but death was lingering on the edges of perception.

She pulled her suit up, checking the poison sacs as she arranged her blades on her forearms. “There is only one sentence for those who murder an Arbiter, Kasoh.”

Sitting up from the bed, Kasoh zipped the back of her uniform up, taking the time to run his hand up and down her side, “Sure, if you go back. How about a place that doesn’t require blood sacrifice to keep its system in check?”

As the understanding came back into Sanderson’s eyes, the serial killer struggled briefly, whining about the song she heard that compelled her to kill those squandering the power of the stars. What kind of justice did Paragon City have for people like this? A little pity, some disgust if they could be bothered to care at all. Righteous rage was something their due process couldn’t fathom. Leave her here and Sanderson would enjoy some padded white walls, and an escape attempt and several dead bodies when she skipped her meds. She was doing the world a favor, and acting in Recluse’s will.

Jameson shook her head, slicing the woman’s throat open, severing the neck with a second swipe. The killer’s blood splashed on her face, but Jameson had already forgotten the insane stalker. Retracting her blades, The Nightwidow stood up moved to her wounded lover.

She flipped Kasoh over, annoyed at the extra mass his cybernetic arm gave him. Said arm was pressed over the wound, some blue-ish medical gel seeping into the cuts. His eye took in the blood, but she shook her head, “Not mine.”

“Accomplish the mission then?” She winced as he labored out the words, not from how terrible his voice sounded, and terrible it was, but the judgment she heard behind them.

“Its done.”

She had been keeping track of the outcomes. After Sanderson was dead, a few flickering visions of Paragon City faded as the future leaned towards a tower in Grandville, where her terminal awaiting the report she had half written was to be typed and filed. Bracing for the rejection had been easy.

Kasoh grunted, “You gonna help me back to the clinic before you go?”

“And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.”

Jameson pulled Kasoh’s arm over her shoulders and eased the man up, “To hell with Frost.”

“Eh?”

Satisfied at the chaos in her foresight, Rosemary Jameson pulled Kasoh towards the door. “Nothing. You gonna make me waffles for breakfast?”

“Woman, I’ve just been stabbed!”

“Wuss. I want raspberry sauce too.”

Bigness in City of is not an idea that thrills me.

The first and most obvious problem for me is that no matter how big you make your guns/swords/fists, they do just as much damage as the person with regular size weapons. (Unless we get a BigMcLargehuge Melee/Blast set)Seeing a person dual wielding Sherman Tanks for Dual Shot's damage just makes me raise my eyebrow and wonder "Wonder what he/she/it is compensating for."

Of course, I'm shallow and judgemental, so thats more of a personal problem.

On the other hand, seeing someone dual wield Sherman Tanks would be absolutely hilarious. The first time. Usually, A character who wields overly large weapons is unique in his doing so. He or she is an aberration amongst combatants. Either because the weapon is tremendously difficult to use or physics just get in the way. The more people who do it, the less interesting it becomes.

Bigness is good every now and then, but it shouldn't ever become commonplace.

I've enjoyed the first two episodes. To this day I can barely watch an episode from the First season, but the second and third seasons really grew on me.

The show's focus changing is one of the best things about it. The status quo changes and the characters and plot progress. I like Chuck's progression from reluctant hero to spy, mostly because I enjoy capable main characters. Though, his abilities are likely to plateau and the focus has to shift to from Chuck's professional development to something else. Also a plus was the show's refusal to milk the will they/won't they for a considerable amount of time.

At the rate of progression, assuming the writers don't drag their feet, I do see Chuck finding a nice point to end at this season or the next.

If I recall, one of the April's fools jokes was the removal of Sound FX from City of to be replaced with Visual Sound FX, as in, the Batman esque "Bam, pow, etc" and there was a screenshot of Energy Blast going 'Freem!'

I'm a little nebulous on the details but I think it became some sort of meme on the boards that has currently fallen out of use, or just not present in the places I frequent.

I don't much care for the rearranging of the powers as my single corner case example is that I took provoke on a character who already wasn't taking stamina, so if I ever need to respec the character, I'm being punished a power pick.

My most major contention is the notion that somehow, Arachnos is incompetent. I understand that Recluse's biggest schemes are somewhat nutjobby, but I readily believe in the ability of the Arachnos Forces to maintain the minimal amount of peace neccessary for the Rogue Isles to survive.

Somebody inside Arachnos, apparantly through sheer force of will and duct tape keeps the troop population high and maintains training standards. Public Works facilities are not in disrepair, the threat of Arachnos retaliation keeps most of the various factions from all out war. Currently, Arachnos is the beating heart of the Rogue Isles and trying to label the organization that does so incompetent, is in my opinion, ludicrous.

Before Marshall Blitz went nutso, The Etoile Islands were a nuclear state, for crying out loud. The spider theme is silly, the politics rediculous, but somehow, somebody on the inside is making it work and keeping it a real threat.

A lot of problems that come out of alignment systems is the assumption that the labeled alignment is a straight jacket for the character. Alignment is a label for a characters general tendencies, like saying "He's a happy go lucky guy" or "He's a jerk." People are not universally one thing all the time, but over time, their past history gives way to patterns, patterns that are identified and labeled.

Planet Hulk and World War Hulk were my favorite Hulk stories in years. The whole Red Hulk thing kind of lost me, but that's wrapping up soon, so who knows where he'll be in the next year.

Its not uncommon in Paragon City for some random villain to come roaring into town on some kind of jetpack, killing and blasting all in the way of making a name for themselves. So, when a bright blue glowing man shaped thing landed in Eden, Kasoh Onnoroc took notice, rising from his campsite. Investigating was the responsible thing to do, and though he grumbled to himself rather loudly as he strolled over the hill Kasoh did it anyway.

He knew he was out of his league as soon as the first punches were thrown. Three of his ribs were broken, the edge scraping against his lung in what should have been immobilizing pain followed shortly by blacking out, or a trip on the Medicomm system.

Unfortunately for Kasoh, the combat stimulants he fed himself kept him from feeling the pain. He most certainly noticed the damage. His own punch had also broken three connections in his cybernetic hand—while leaving a smear of synth-flesh along the cheeky bastard’s jaw line.

Clenching the fist, the doctor noticed how he had trouble maintaining the fist necessary to try a second time.

Tucking his artificial arm close to his chest, Kasoh slowly circled his foe, who watched him with a churlish fascination. In a place separate from the immediate concerns of a random fight with a much more powerful opponent, he built a slim profile on his opponent.

Humanoid, over two and a half meters tall. Some kind of containment suit that was either incredibly dense, or protected with a force field. No obvious gender. He didn’t see any tubes or toggles, so it was a self contained device.

“Curious. You know that you cannot trade another blow with me, yet you remain. A tactic to buy time for assistance?”

Voice was synthesized, or artificial. Sithspit, this thing might not even be alive. “Nope. Just thinking how much I hate cosmically powered jerkoffs like you who come crashing into town to bum around.”

“You are declaring assumptions in the hopes I will correct them….the term is…fishing, is it not?”

Kasoh darted forward, ducking the body blow the thing tried once before. With his good hand, he launched an uppercut into its jaw. Broke two of his fingers. He pictured the breaks like they would be shown in his X-Rays later, and a medical textbook under ‘Things people don’t notice when high.’

To his credit, he saw the backhand coming, but rather than get closer to this…thing, he tried to duck, and caught the blow on his temple. As he tumbled to the ground, he noticed his eyepatch had been caught on the thing’s hand. It looked at the piece of fabric for a second before vaporizing it.

“That was foolish, but I understand. Do you wish for death? Is that why you will continue to fight me?”

“Pfft.” Kasoh muttered as he tried to keep the earth from spinning. Now there were two of them. What was he going to do with…wait. Nevermind. Concussion. Double vision. He had a pill for that somewhere…

“Not death then. Curious. You are not like the rest of these creatures.” A light washed over Kasoh that emanated from the tall stranger. As he covered his eyes, Kasoh felt something beyond the dullness of his stimulants and alcohol. A scan of some sort. Pretty deep too. Probably touched his nervous system somehow. With a grunt, he pulled himself to a sitting position.

“It is clear to me now. You are extra-dimensional. But…more than that. Not from the standard dimensions Portal Corps explores. Somewhere else. There is no going back and unlikely you will ever see your friends and companions again.”

“Got all that from a deep tissue sample, did you?” Kasoh muttered, though he wasn’t sure how clearly he was speaking anymore.

“Of sorts.” The thing paused, its head turning to look down at Kasoh. “I copied your brain. Different from natives to this dimension, or any I’ve encountered. And it’s muddled underneath your brain altering substances. A novel anti-psychic tactic.”

“Glad you approve…” Kasoh fished around in his jacket, pulling out a bottle of pills, Rather than mess with the lid, he used his artificial arm to rip the top off. He poured most of the contents into his mouth and chewed the bitter pills.

“Ah. I see. Naboo. Talus. The NGO. You connect these memories with varying emotional responses, though a common theme is regret, and wistfulness.” The creature paused, as if considering something, “We are not so different. I am a dimensional orphan myself. Though, I destroyed my home dimension and yours rejected you like a cancer.”

His vision cleared a little as the drugs began to work on him. Kasoh pushed his fingers around, hoping they were mostly in the right place. He’d likely have to break them again at the clinic when he got home.

“Out of—I guess it is pity—I could return you to your dimension.”

“You’ve got my brain on tap, you already know the answer.” Kasoh stood up, and some popping could be heard as he did so. The newest drugs were making it hard to think clearly, he could no longer identify the damage he was doing to himself.

“Yes. How sad. You do not desire it. What is it…” it trailed off. “How banal. For a moment I thought you different, but it appears there is nothing we offer each other.”

Clenching his fists again, Kasoh tried to shrug, but the movement didn’t come, “You can speak wookie now.”

“So it seems. You bore me. This place bores me. I do not expect we shall ever meet again.” The creature raised its hand and a lance of energy shot Kasoh down, slamming the mostly human hero back and Kasoh stumbled off the edge of the hill, where his body finally gave out.

“---soh.”

Pain filled his nerves as consciousness returned. His artificial eye adapted immediately to the new light while his other was still blurry, and Kasoh noticed immediately the sterile white walls of a hospital. This one fairly high tech.

He also noticed the blonde to his left, shaking him. The black and purple outfit was bringing conflicting emotions, memories. Right, right, Arachnos. Nightwidow. Annoying. This one was different. Unique. His head buzzing from pain, he just could not place her name, but she was important somehow… “Kasoh, oh finally. You’re back.”

“Thingy…punch…ow…got away.”

“Yeah, the blue cosmic guy. Someone—actually 24 someones—took care of it. You’re a damn fool.” She grabbed his good hand—his real hand, actually. “The smartest dumb guy I know.”

She held his hand to her chest, and his eye met hers. Ah, that was it. The blue brought it back, “But you love me anyway, right, Rosemary?”

She opened her mouth to say something when her attention got diverted. She put his hand down and patted it, “Rest up. I’ve got to go.”

Picking up her helmet, the Nightwidow faded from his sight, but Kasoh heard the window open and close.

I think it would be hilarious if they one month they put Wolverine in every single book they published, just to tweak people who don't like him.

The Lawful discriptor doesn't usually mean following the written laws of an area, usually it refers to a personal code which the character doesn't deviate from, or how fast they stick to bargains made. Order and Discipline are qualities of lawful characters.

Anyway, A hero is one who doesn't allow the sacrifice of innocents in pursuit of justice, The most likely to take a third option.

Vigilantes are the wankers who mutter 'Justice, revenge, justice' in their sleep. No qualms about killing, or letting people get hurt so long as they selfishly fulfill their perverted desire for justice.

Rogues are selfish opportunists who don't like to kick puppies on their way to the bank. They might occasionally take a stand, but are equally likely to just walk away.

Villains...well...like the song says, Anything Goes. You can't tell what a villain will do excepting that they plan to benefit some fashion from it.

And because I never have enough opportunities to post this...

Putting the Authority in the regular DCU would be a terrible, terrible thing.

Jack's You can't handle the truth. A little on the short side, but oh so nice.

Oh, and Hamlet in Klingon. Just Because

Because getting Primal earth embroiled in a multi-dimensional two front war (Rikti, Praetoria) is such a brilliant strategic move. That two front thing worked great for Germany and the US.

Its Vangaurd's job to protect Primal earth from extra-dimensional threats, sure, but why haven't they entered Axis-America Earth like they have Praetoria?

Its not quite pre-emptive, because Praetoria has already attempted an invasion once before, but that was solved without Vangaurd's intervention, it was foiled by a single (or up to eight) heroes.

No matter which way I look at it, Vangaurd entering other dimensions on the basis of protecting the security of Primal Earth by granting aid to the faction they like the most is discomforting. Perhaps Vangaurd will get tired of working with anarchist zealots and just assassinate Cole and put in an interim government while they foist a new government system upon the people of Praetoria whether they want it or not.

Heh. Funny.

Falcon at least, would have made sense because he's not, you know...a king responsible for an entire nation or anything. Falcon has been Cap'n A's sidekick for some time now, I'd like to see if he could carry a book, though in all honesty I doubt it.