LoupGarou

Wow, mate, I'm very impressed, that's awesome work.

I think it's safe to say everyone is running around with a character that isn't so very original on the surface; what makes it original is the way it's played and progresses. A mere background story can be quite misleading, and I find actually rping with a character is the only REAL way to tell what the character is like, regardless of whether or not people feel the need to pass judgment upon the character before they've even interacted with it. When I first created Loup he was a lot darker, and I took a considerable amount of hate from people who felt the need to "inform" me a reformed streetfighter was not worth playing, let alone interacting with. I just decided to get on with it regardless, and the character evolved in a rather new direction which I haven't seen in other, similar characters (the cocky, apathetic ex-street fighter character seems a dime a dozen these days).

There's so many ways it could go, really; I've toyed sometimes with the idea of creating a super-suit which the character had absolutely NO control over (akin to the Greatest American Hero), which of course is still something lifted from another concept, but it would be the playing out and the evolution which would make it interesting.

CoV entertains me namely BECAUSE of its rather over the top cliche types like one rather finds in comics (the rich-becomes-hero, the tragic-death-and-haunting-past hero, the secret-demi-god-sexbomb hero and so forth). The difference to me is ingame, you have potential to be a lot more indepth in a character personality if you should choose. The background in the end just sets the stage...the rp itself is what defines a character and that often has quite a few surprises in it.

Give it a play, and enjoy it! There's no copyright police around that I'm aware of.

Jean-Luc began to tighten the noose even further round the TLF by meeting with a young hero who had been kidnapped by a member named Masked Angel. He put forth his plan to attempt to hack the super-AI, O.R.A.C.L.E and asked for assistance, though he was reticent to discuss the matter with the entire Militia. However, his plotting was cut short by his being alerted by his heightened senses to the presence of an enemy watching...

He made his way back to the Fourth Wall and then went forth once more into a match in the illegal underground cage-fighting ring, though he vowed to himself it would be his last bout.

The sirens hadn't sounded in King's Row for days. At first, people in Paragon City were hesitant to believe the Rikti had retreated from their main assault, and then, a sense of elation spread across the populace. They had won; the Rikti were beaten back, and save for the odd skirmish and the Warzone activity, they seemed cowed and defeated.

Celebrations broke out in the bomb-wrecked streets, and politicians made speeches. Jean-Luc opened his club in a Jazz-festival style of elation, and pots simmered on the stove with plenty for everyone to eat. He watched civilians dance with heroes, and heard the swagger in the voices of the victorious; filled with bravado and daring as always was the case in such matters, but for one or two pairs of haunted eyes here and there. One or two who had already seen too much, one or two who were haunted by nightmares and screams. One more orphan, one more widow, one more statue to a hero who had come to the end of the line.

And Jean-Luc watched, and cooked, and smiled, and nodded...but he couldn't join the festive spirit.

Dat weren't right...nonna dat was right. Somethin' goin' down, we was bein' tested...an' now dey gonna jus' be quiet an' wait....

Jean-Luc brooded, and drank, and thought, and tried to blow bubbles but even that didn't work. He paced, and he thought some more, and then finally one evening, he stuffed a small metal box into his pocket, clambered onto "Wife Number 1", fired up the beast of a bike and made his way to the nearest Vanguard DPO.

The DPO was abustle with activity, and he was rather surprised at how parkish the place looked; Atlas City was rather flash to Jean-Luc's mind anyway, but the image of the Vanguard office was almost like being inside a fancy Parisian salon - or at least right up to the grey-armoured contacts moving hither and thither; a strange contrast of paradise and war with jarred his senses slightly.

The office was crammed with heroes; many of them very young as well. Like young people signing up to the military, they'd had a small taste of action and thought merely of the rush - the reality hadn't sunk in yet. Even though they were encased in armour suits, the body language of the Vanguard staff hinted they'd seen it all before, and viewed such bravado with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

Jean-Luc elbowed his way through the crowd toward the main desk, where the Vanguard operative turned his/her armour-encased head toward him with a rather terse, "Oh, another one."

Jean-Luc's golden eyes narrowed slightly, though there was a smile on his lips. "I 'spose sayin' I'm here to sign up would jus' make y'all throw your hands up in de air an pray for mercy, non?"

The Vanguard operative sighed, slapping down his clipboard. "Yeah, you may as well get in line. Every kid who slapped a Rikti last week has been coming in here wanting another shot. If they don't panic when they finally get in there -"

"Dey will be dead in six weeks, oui, I know." Jean-Luc nodded. "Still, I sorta obliged." The Creole reached into the inner pocket of his leather jacket and held the metal box in his hand. He couldn't see the Op's face, but he did see the helmeted head do a double-take.

"Whoa - is that -? That's classified priority, Mister, how did you get ahold of one of those?"

"Classified," Jean-Luc said with a wink.

The Op picked the box up and placed it beneath some sort of scanning device on the desk. Jean-Luc had no idea what it did, but a scroll of numbers flashed across the Vanguard soldier's visor, and the Op nodded.

"Ah, right, Loup Garou, right? You're registered to this. Huh...guess they're expecting you, my friend, so you get to shoot to the front of the queue, may your deity of choice have mercy on your soul."

"Mesi bien," Jean-Luc replied as he took the proffered cube and tucked it back into his coat, turning toward the portal entry to the Vanguard HQ.

"Hey."

Jean-Luc looked over his shoulder, his brows raised. "Quoi?"

The Op nodded to him, his voice quiet. "You take care."

How many people he see come in here? How many he know ain't gonna make it out? Don' look at dere faces, don' ask dere names...half of dese kids are walkin' dead, and dey don't even know it. So...don' think of dem as people...don' talk to 'em.

Jean-Luc nodded solemnly back. "Mesi...bonswa, man."

**********

The next twenty four hours was a haze; he met a sea of faces, half of them he forgot within a few hours, though he had already memorized their scents and their offices. He marvelled at equipment whose function he could only guess at, and noticed with some surprise there were villains from the Isles here as well. There was tension in the air from the new recruits who eyed one another with vitriolic gazes, but the vets came and went without even a glance askance. It was true enough - this was war, and it really didn't matter who was out there as long as they were willing to help.

As eager as he was to get started, he had to bide his time; he was put through test after test, both in human form, in his lycan shape, and in the suit. The suit was tested and retested, tweaked, adjusted, modified and then tested again. He exercised till he was sore and weary, but his nerves were singing. In here, his suspicions were being confirmed.

Somethin' goin' down...somethin' big. I'm gonna be a part of it.

Ragefang...you watchin'? You see dis...de Creole gonna do his best, man, or die tryin'.

I can't even begin to grasp what to do yet, the potential is astronomical. To be honest, I'd just be thrilled taking part in these rather than creating something which focusses upon my character implicitly. But who knows.

roleplayer BLISS, this is.

Group Name:Fourth Wall

Server/Game:Union/CoH

Theme: The nightclub for the hero community and its admirers!

Webpage:Fourth Wall

Contacts:@LoupGarou, Same on the forums

Usual Activities:The Fourth Wall is more a concept than a supergroup, and therefore is mainly a meet and greet area for likeminded roleplayers away from the Pocket D. This is a great supergroup for people who are just learning their way around the RP community and would like a place to meet others who enjoy rp, as well as giving them access to storage facilities and invention machines if necessary.

Other Activities:The Fourth Wall opens its doors to other roleplaying Supergroups by offering coalition "memberships" to the club. This entitles SGs to visit the Fourth Wall and interact with one another in a space other than their own bases, thus doing away with the rather difficult grouping issues.

Background & Structure:Fourth Wall is privately owned technomagical club that is targeted for metahumans and people interested in the hero culture in Paragon City. There is no hard requirements for membership, but recommendation from a current member is preferred.

The idea and concept for the club comes from @Blackdove aka Wild Thyme who has also designed the interior (with the kind help of Doctor Temporis). The club was originally managed, IC and OOC, by @Coile aka Stratocaster, but this has now changed hands and is now managed by @LoupGarou, aka Jean-Luc Santeres.

Admission Notes/Requirements:
The IC rules:

To become a member an applicant has to agree to these rules.

1. You are free to enter the premises at any given time unless the club has been closed down for maintenance.

2. You may bring guests with you but you are responsible for their actions in the premises during their stay. Guests have to be aware of the rule and agree to abide by them.

3. If you are asked to leave by a member of the staff do so immediately and without quarrel.

4. The management reserves the right to terminate any membership at any time if they deem it necessary. Probations are also possible.

5. If you get a drink while no service staff is around place your glass on the bar counter for billing purposes. Your tab will be deducted from your account at the end of each month. Hosts are responsible for beverages of their guests.

6. Take fights outside. While Fourth Wall does not employ such means as Pocket D does it is strongly wished that no fights occur inside the club. Breach of this no violence policy may result in a ban from the club, pending management review of the case.

7. Maintain general order. People come to the club to relax from the hassle outside. Respect that.

The OOC details:
Stored Enhancements, storage items, and the use of the crafting tables and vaults are open to members of the Fourth Wall, but please use need before greed. Only take what you'll use, not merely because you "need" the influence you'll get by selling them.

The Fourth Wall is not a typical supergroup in that we don't organise hunts or function in a hero capacity. It is primarily a social outlet, allowing players a way to get to know the other supergroups and get a foot in the door. This means members are not locked into obligations with the Fourth Wall and can interact and hunt with whomever they please, allowing for a greater amount of flexibility in playstyles. However, if a member happens to find a supergroup they'd like to join due to their Fourth Wall interactions, members are welcome to join up or leave at any time if they should so choose. Being a member of Fourth Wall means it's easier for you to bring friends in via a group if you'd like to have a rp session in a quiet space.

Holding gigs, meetings, or special events in the Fourth are greatly encouraged. Just seek me out ingame or on the forums and we'll arrange what we can for you.

Primarily, the Fourth Wall is about provided a tool-free space to rp and interact with others. It's merely a stage, and as a result everyone gets out of it what they put into it.


Please be sure to read up on the Fourth Wall page for the fine print!

Aye, there's the difference; giving your character an accent because it's "cool", and trying to have at least a working understanding of your character's culture. Just saying "kwai" and "nyan" all the time and yet being completely incapable of understanding sake is served warm or what an obi actually is tends to make me wonder why someone chose to make their character Japanese (usually just taking the name of their favourite anime-toon).

I suppose it's the difference between having at least a believable familiarity with a culture and just using a stereotype rather inexpertly. There's nothing more embarassing than being caught out for me (hence wincing when fluent French speakers have started trying to communicate with me in tells), so again I stick with the "go with what you know" rule and don't try and overstep my own knowledge, or expand it when I can.

Of course, there's the EU/Americas idea as well - in the EU, people all try to be rather accomodating and speak in the language of the country they're currently visiting as that's considered polite. But in the Americas, it's quite opposite. People there are fanatically proud of their culture, and they won't shift it for anyone. It is therefore not even remotely odd to be speaking to a Cajun or Creole who is using half English and half their own patois. It's not considered rude there - it's just the way it is, it's part of their own cultural paradigm.

With that said, however, I do keep to certain phrases - there's zero point in me using entire sentences of Kreyol as no one would have a clue what I was saying, and in that I do agree. But this influence isn't because I've read comics (because *gasp* I don't). It's because I have Creole heritage and for me it makes my character stand out a bit in the sea of English speaking Caucasians. After all, m'friend, you've got a cat-chick who extends her "r's" a lot. Why bother? It's obvious they're a cat, why bang on about it? Because it adds flavour, and gives a bit of inflection which is unique. So by all means, roll on with 'em.

As an aside: There's all sorts of quirks from Hawaii, for example - the wearing of flip-flops is sort of mandatory there. And SPAM...they eat SPAM all the TIME, man...they make sushi rolls out of the stuff. I'm not kidding. Little things like that give so much believability to a character, even if people aren't quite certain where it's coming from - it's cultural and thus unique.

I'm quite certain this post could have been much more coherent...but I'm not firing on all cylinders at the moment. So I apologise if I flew wide of the mark.

Actually everyone has their own cultural quirks in real life, even if they're using the same language as everyone else - more often than not they're not even aware of it. You may speak Portugeuse, but you probably do so in a French accent. When you speak English, it's probably the same. There are certain foods you probably like, or maybe even detest, due to cultural idioms.

A lot of the time, it's expected we're supposed to erase these cultural differences as they're somehow considered rude, but in many cases, they're so much a part of ourselves we never even think about them. My love of Tobasco sauce, for example, is very American South. When I get angry or excited, my voice almost goes immediately into a Southern drawl. I have a habit of putting cardamom pods into my coffee before brewing due to quite a bit of time spent with Persian families. So I'm sure everyone has those little inflections which one never quite is aware of, and I wouldn't see anything strange with those coming out now and again.

I actually get rather annoyed when people feel they need to erase their own cultural customs in order to "fit in" more with the common herd. I have always lived in culturally diverse areas or portside towns and I love hearing the new languages, seeing the new clothes, trade recipes or pick up the odd phrase here and there from sailors (usually swear words, I admit) when they come in from Ghana, Finland, Portugal, or Spain.

It's actually rather fascinating to note there is a Portugeuse "creole" - I was aware there are many different inflections in the Carrib but that particular type was unknown to me.

Aw, cheers, everyone, I'm glad to know Jean-Luc's Kreyol doesn't have everyone scratching their heads, though after thinking about it I have thought up something else; merely because someone uses certain inflections or words to give their character flavour doesn't necessarily mean the PLAYER is fluent in the culture they're steeping their character in. I'm reminded one of my characters was once talking to Red and made mention of a samovar - the player obviously had no idea what I was talking about. I'm played through even so, and made a note not to be a [censored] and aim a bunch of Russian at him and expect him to understand it (unless I gave a 'tell' translation.

Because I'm such a perfectionist, I chose a culture I'm familiar with ('write what you know' being the whole of the Law), and I did a fair bit of homework as well to make sure Jean-Luc makes the certain cultural inflections a person of Creole heritage would do (everyone is bel, everyone is mon-ami until they prove otherwise, and of course he's always trying to feed people or take them in). That's straight up Creole-Southern. Yet I'm rather vague when it comes to where Jean-Luc is from exactly as I don't know the bayou well enough to make anything other than a hazarded guess.

A lot of people believe I'm fluent in French, which of course I'm not, but I can pick up the inflection and can construct a reply on Kreyol accordingly. However, I am very aware there are people who have no idea what I'm saying, and as a result I don't use as many words as I could be - they're just flavour, not really to confuse people.

Quick Dirty Guide to Kreyol

I posted this a while ago in the NHU forums, but I decided to post it here as I'm sure I'm confusing people, and I have had some people ask why my character's French is so terrible, or they attempt to correct the spelling.

Louisiana is dear to my heart, while I've only a few ancestors there and only been there once myself. I remember hearing Kreyol used now and again, and I picked up a bit myself. Creole isn't Cajun, by the way, neither is it French - the actual language (optionally spelled Kreyol, Kreol, and Creyole) is a form of phoentic French and a fair bit of Afro-Carribean inflection. As a result, "Bonsoir" becomes "Bonswa", "Bonjour" is "Bonjou" and so on. However there are some huge differences - the term for girlfriend is "negresse" - which isn't so surprising considering the Afro-Carrib influence. To most people, the term just means "black", so it tends to make people blink a bit when Jean-Luc uses it - I switched to "bel" instead or even m'chere (though in reality he would be saying "monchoux" or even "choux-choux").

Now while I doubt this will stop the ragingly pedantic from continuously correcting my "French" (with a bunch of smartaleck smiley-faces at the end of each correction), or for those dear folks who do speak French and then try to communicate with me in French (at which point i have to admit I've no idea what they're saying), I figured I'd post this up for the even mildly curious who might want to have an idea what Jean-Luc is saying, especially when he starts getting angry or doesn't want to say what he's saying in English. I will say with a fair bit of pride and amusement people in the NHU were using Kreyol better than I was after a few months, which made me smile.

I will readily admit I am not hugely fluent in Kreyol, to my shame, and for ease of understanding in a European community, I mix it with classical French just to help people understand what he's saying, as straight Kreyol would be incomprehensible to most people.

I know there's a few other players who use languages here and there to add a bit of flavour to their own characters (Lady Cobra is Thai, for example, which is rather interesting). It's a break from the nearly-constant Japanese stuff, at the least.

Anyway, if there are people using other languages, I'd like to know out of my own linguistic curiosity, which ones, and if you've a link, that'd be great.

P.S. - I didn't post the swear words, for obvious reasons, but trust me, they're there!

((Well played, man! Nicely done! *bows*

Now as far as how you manage, and how close you get, you're probably going to have to wait until hates comes back from holiday as I do not know O.R.A.C.L.E or what it's capable of, so assume your character is at the moment rather busy. This does give you time however to concentrate on the Corp going after NHU, and I'm sure JL will pop into that now and again.

Thanks again for getting involved!))

Jean-Luc downed the drink in his hand, closing his eyes and then opening them once more, his eyes gleaming wolf-bright, slightly refracting the light. The smile he gave was all teeth, feral and not quite human. This was what it was all about for him, after all..baiting the trap, setting it, and all he had to do was sit and wait.

"Oui...I know dat, I know that fo' true. So I guess y'all better be as good as you say, cause if you slip up an' I die, you won't be gettin' paid, non?"

But even so, man...if it means I flush out the prey? I'll go for it.

"Y'all give me an update when you be done, oui? Mesi. Oh, an' when y'all leave, will you use de door? I don't need all the dam' nuts and bolts to m'bike blowin' all over de place."

Jean-Luc grunted, but managed a smile, even though continuously being called Wolfman was grating on his nerves. "J'accord? Bon, bon. An' what time you start? Well what time is it, man?"

Jean-Luc put the wrench back into his toolbox and ordered up a Red Bull and vodka from the auto-tender, swirling it round in his glass. "I'd offer you man, but you drivin'...an' I think y'all would need a crowbar to get dat mask off yo' head hanyway. So, you know where I be, when you got what I can use, you come fin' me. Don't use de phone or any o'dat fancy technical [censored], man, I don't have de head for it. Ain't such a inconvenience for y'all if you can just pop up like a daisy nohow. We good?"

Jean-Luc raised his brows again, studying the impervious helmet with a grin, but his nerves were wound up tight, watching Cyberspace with his golden eyes.

Somehow, Jean-Luc managed to keep a straight face. He couldn't tell what the guy looked like under the armour, but he definitely DID sound like a twelve year old. Defensive and smug...well, that would do.

Man oh man, de people I end up hangin' out with.

"Ain't no such thing as too much Pixar, man...hold on, dis sparkplug givin' me grief - ah, voila." Jean-Luc started to work on the offending piece of machinery, scraping off the carbon scoring as he surveyed the suited hacker in front of him.

"Dere's an AI in de Isles. Tres' magnifique. I need someone to...hm...confuse it fo' a while. Or at least find a way to do so. Open a tunnel so I can siphon several AIs in to give it hell, yanno what I mean? Gang up on it, mebbe even shut it down. Hard job, man, not so easy atall. An' since y'all's Kung Fu better 'n anyone else's accordin' to my source, I figger I ask you, oui?

"Of course," he continued smoothly. "A man wants payin', non? I 'spose we could work out terms provided you don't go askin' me to do anythin' too stupid fo' you, oui? We can haggle, but I tell you true - if y'all can' take it, I can fin' someone else. You de firs' point of contact is all."

Jean-Luc raised his brows as he made adjustments to his bike's mechanics. "...so. What y'all think?"

Jean-Luc reached for his wrench, and then frowned - the smell was changing, and the hair on the back of his arms was standing up. He narrowed his eyes, just as his ears started popping and a whoosh assailed his ears. He managed to put his hand down on the loose gas tank and scowled as something rather dramatically teleported into view.

If this a Rikti, I'm gonna blow dem sky-hi, allergy be damned.

He had his wrench up and over his shoulder to throw when he blinked at the armoured creature currently aiming its hand at him in a rather dramatic gesture. With a grunt, Jean-Luc brushed down his hair and managed to keep from grinning.

Check.

"Firs' of all, put yo' damn hand down unless you wanna eat it, boy, dat ain't gonna work in here. Do y'all wanna let me give you a few minutes to say somethin' extremely threatenin' and intense?" Jean-Luc snorted again, and turned to start working on a stuck sparkplug. "But if you say ANY version whatsoever of 'I am Syndrome, your nemesis' I WILL throw this wrench upside yo' head."

He managed to loosen the plug and eyed it appraisingly, frowning as he studied the completely blank mask of the helmet. "Nice suit, by de way...hanyway, I hear you good, an' I need someone up to a hackin' challenge. Provided he ain't gonna be someone lookin' to pull a fast one. No one likes a dishonest crook, man. You lissenin'?"

Jean-Luc muttered under his breath as he continued working on his Triumph inside the Fourth Wall. He was still recovering and there was little else for him to do in any event. He'd managed to have a discussion with HAL briefly in the morning, but now it was just a game of sitting and waiting.

<<After analysis of the patterns of the opponent, Jean-Luc, it would suffice to say his first step will be to access the Fourth Wall security.>>

"Oh yeah...gotta security mainframe back dere, I ain't got no idea what it does. Cameras too, but it's not like dere's anythin' major on dere....tell you what, don't block dat. Let 'em look."

<<It would mean he would manage to have a running knowledge of the club's defences and how to combat them.>>

"Not everythin', mon ami. Fileosaurus ain't online an' ain't nevah been. Ragefang, he did everythin' old school. No cameras in de back, jus' at the door, an' on de bar. No audio nowhere. Even so, de Fourth, she has a trick or two up her sleeve. 'Sides, I don't wanna beat de guy, I wan' him to take de job. Tell you what...we gonna build a cul-de-sac."

<<I do not understand the reference in this context.>>

"Well den...jus' lissen..."

Jean-Luc grumbled again as he started to remove the Tiger's gas tank, turning the catch mechanism on the fuel hose and running the bike till it stalled, all the while having one ear turned toward the door even while he worked. HAL was busy plugging away at the NHU base, but as far as Jean-Luc in the Fourth was concerned, even his cellphone was switched off.

"Let's hope y'all don' just come in 'ere wantin' to monologue..." Grunting and lifting off the plastic tank, he set it down carefully beside him and got elbow deep into the guts of his machine.

The Poshest Soup Kitchen in Paragon

This weekend, while the Rikti attacks raged, Jean-Luc Santeres,the manager of the cosmopolitan hero-club, Fourth Wall, opened his doors to feed the masses of Paragon City.

Jean-Luc, a retired registered hero of Paragon City, moved his club to King's Row several months ago, in what he called a move to "get back to his roots and do some good." While the club would be considered an anomaly with its rather posh interior and clientelle, Jean-Luc himself hasn't forgotten "his people", and when he isn't out fighting the Rikti bombs which have sometimes landed literally outside his door, he's hiring more staff to cope with the demands of making food for people who lost their homes in the attacks.

"People don't fight well on empty stomachs," Jean-Luc says with a smile as he stirs a massive pot of heavenly-scented gumbo and rice. "There are people still without power, heat, and water. The least I can supply them with is food. King's Row isn't uptown, and as a result it tends to be sort of forgotten. And I can't have that."

No indeed...refugees of the attacks are crammed in everywhere, eating princely repasts of the finest Creole-fusion cusine the cooks can manage. Jean-Luc has even taken to hiring on extra staff, and surprisingly, there's even a few Skulls members wandering around inside, serving, clearing up, washing, and of course eating.

"A few months ago I'd be arresting them," Jean-Luc laughed. "But when I was out fighting Rikti yesterday, I passed a huddle of them, most of them looking scared to death. They're just kids...I peeled some Rikti off them and told them to go home, and a few showed up to help. Earn their respect, speak their language, and they're just fine."

However, it might be Jean-Luc's generosity is getting the better of him. "He told us all to go home, as he thought it would be safer for us," Ramon Manuco, the sous chef, informed us while he helped to serve up the evening meal. "But he pays well, and is a good man, so we said we'd help him. What else is there to do otherwise than wait for the bombs to fall, and worry? Still, we can see the cracks. He's pushing himself too hard - he never get sick, but lately, he looks tired, and he's coughing all the time...and those eyes."

Whilst Jean-Luc's glowing golden eyes and flagging health are indeed a cause for concern, it doesn't seem like he's willing to stop. Even while the alarms sounded outside - a sound becoming so familiar these days it's almost as if their silence is more strange - he immediately leaped up and headed for the door to dispel the invasion. If he's retired, he's managed to keep in shape well enough to send the Rikti packing, and still come back to serve up the final meal and close up the club for the night.

"The thing about being a hero, is people doing ordinary things. I don't think this is so very praiseworthy...it's just common sense. People are hungry. You feed them. Food is love, and you have to spread that around."

Things were heating up, perhaps a little faster than he'd have liked. To his great surprise and delight, he had found Sword of Redemption waiting for him at the Fourth Wall, and after greeting him exuberantly, Jean-Luc had managed to catch up and put forth his plan. If there was one person he could trust - and even better, trust to look the other way if need be - it was Ed.

I'm not goin' for an arrest. Oswald, he be mine.

Dr. Ed had brought him to meet with a young girl who had been kidnapped by the group, and it had taken a fair bit of control for Jean-Luc to keep from raging at the sight of the young girl-slash-robotic killing machine.

Dey did dis to you? Oh, no, m'chere, dey gonna pay.

He didn't entirely understand what Twilighter had said, but it seemed the TLF were planning something big. At least he knew he had to move, and fast - especially as it seemed through the up-link in the young girl's brain, O.R.A.C.L.E. knew of Jean-Luc's presence.

"They know your face now, mister. You should be careful."

"Dey only know one of m'faces, 'chere," Jean-Luc replied, as he began to shift into his lycan form, leaning down on all fours till he was eye to eye with the surprised young girl. "I got many. So, it's hokay."

However the information concerned him. O.R.A.C.L.E hadn't seen him before in his human form, and now it was going to make things difficult for him. Pocket D was no longer a safe place for him to hold his liason, as it seemed the TLF was trolling the club, looking for members. While he really didn't want to have to do it, he was going to have to bring the hacker somewhere else.

Jean-Luc paced back and forth in front of the mainframe that was HAL.

<<Their redirection was rudimentary, yet skilled, Jean-Luc.>> HAL said in his measured, inhuman tones. <<I could pinpoint a direct location but it would take a considerable amount of time, and might also open me up for a counter-attack. I therefore advise leaving a message in plain view, much as they have done.>>

Jean-Luc frowned, then shrugged. "Hokay, can do dat. You tell 'em to meet me in de Fourth Wall."

<<I must question the logic of such a course, Jean-Luc. It does mean you might put yourself at considerable risk. This particular human Cyberspace is a blackmailer and a hacker - I am sure if you give him an advantage, he will use it.>>

Jean-Luc grinned, his elongated fangs glittering dangerously. "Oui...if I knew anythin' bout computers, mebbe. But I don'. And if he a computer geek, he prob'ly ain't nothin' once you actually get him away from a computer. It's hard to be cocky when dere ain't no screen protectin' you from a punch in de face.

"Still," Jean-Luc continued, thinking to himself. "See if you can play chess with de kid's hown AI. Yanno, sorta a friendly bout. Try an' pinpoint where de kid is, where he lives, how to track 'im, jus' in case he decide to do somethin' stupid. I don' think it be too hard, actually. I know where he live, he know where I live. Checkmate, non?"

<<I can comprehend the logic of such a move. However it still warrants a considerable amount of risk.>>

"De whole thin' I'm plannin does," Jean-Luc said grimly. "Fourt' Wall, on Tuesday evenin...after I close. Send de message out. He will come. Now," Jean-Luc turned to face HAL's blank, imposing "eye" lens. "How bout a game o' Tetris?"

<<It would be an honour.>>

It's definitely a good idea, the only issue is that in my case I am utterly [censored] at PvP - however my character is a former Cage Fighter, so it doesn't make sense for him to lose as often as he does (and I lose every bout, even though I'm always game to enter into the pvp arena with my incredibly naff PVE build). I've managed to explain this BARELY by saying he's not quite as good at non-lethal fighting, but it would be stretched considerably if I had to take anyone on consistently ingame. From an rp standpoint, as much as I rather cringe at the concept of protecting my character's ego, it doesn't work for him to lose so much, though I really would like to see more bouts like this.

There's several different rings which are sort of along these lines for roleplay purposes, but all are just a bit of background flavour (The Chinese Superhero ring, Death Ring, there was a Fight Club at one point I think). However as I've had some people tell me time and again, Paragon City itself would have no use for such a cage as we're all supposed to be shiny happy heroes who would never find anything so barbaric as entertaining. Hence I suppose watching monkeys beat the snot out of each other is okay...or something. While I personally have no objections to it as a friendly-bout sort of thing between people, it might take something more than a "just for grins" background to make it fly.

Maybe it would be like a rather campy "cage wrestling match for charity" which various heroes could participate in? Really whacked out spandex costumes and all? That might even allow some villians to "gatecrash" and attempt to actually put some more permanent hurt upon opponents (hey, they're in a mask, who would know?).

I say the idea has considerable potential, and could be a whole lot of fun, but yes, if it's done, I'd say do it big, do it camp, and make it look like some sort of WWF visits Paragon City.

Nice idea *thumbsup*

(Wow, seriously, you did a great job with the layout on this, it really does look like a magazine. Thanks again for giving me the shot to get in there.

Cheers!))

Jean-Luc muttered and burrowed his head deeper underneath the pillow, fumbling with one hand for the alarm which seemed to be ringing in a rather muffled note. He slammed the offending piece of machinery with his fist, and frowned, snorted, yawned, and didn't budge an inch.

Then he frowned harder - the alarm was still going.

Quoi?

Jean-Luc blearily opened an eye and lifted the pillow off his head, scowling. Alarms - did someone break into the club? He sniffed at the air; no smoke, no unidentified scents, but still an ala-

He shot to his feet when a shuddering explosion rocked the club, and then another - they were coming from outside, and Jean-Luc cursed under his breath and snatched up his leather trousers, having no time to grab anything else. "If dat de Skulls I'm gonna rip 'em in two," he growled, sprinting out of his makeshift studio apartment, vaulting over his desk, skidding round the corner and barrelling for the door, flinging it open wide after punching in the code -

His senses immediately started reeling once he'd done so; the sky was black, tinged with green, alien shapes floating in the sky and dropping screaming, whistling egg shaped things from their bellies. The alarm was a howl in his head, and his sense of smell was haywire, colours and images exploding in his head.

Rikti. Right outside my door.

Jean-Luc grinned...or at least he bared his teeth. His eyes flared a brilliant gold as he flicked his wrists forward, the cruel edged claws slicing open the skin between his knuckles and locking into place. Already the skin on his bare chest and back was rippling, skinning over with rapidly growing silver-white hair as he strode forward into the blast zone.

"Oh heeeeellllno," he growled, though he felt a strange sense of elation as well. It was like meeting an old friend, eating a food one enjoyed, or a fine wine. Heroes all around started to converge outside Pocket D, one or two in bathrobes and nightgowns, having just been awakened by the klaxons, but all of them were grim, and all of them were ready.

"Not in my own you don'...oooooh no," Jean-Luc rasped at the drop-ships overhead, and there was a murmur of assent around him.

The first Rikti warriors began to jump-shift into existence on the ground, their rifles blazing, Jean-Luc was already on all fours, shifted into his full lycan-form, leaping at the first Conscript in his sights, slicing through armour as if it was tin and howling.

"Gowon den, bring it! Bring de rain!"

******

For hours, he fought them, sprinting on his paws toward the next tube line for the next city, aware in the back of his mind this was bigger than it had ever been. There were Rikti everywhere - every corner of the city, and they were in force. After beating them to a pulp in one place, the cry was sent up that two more forces had appeared elsewhere. Back and forth over all of Paragon he dashed; snarling, clawing, biting, rolling, ducking, diving, howling. The hunt-song was in his head and his veins, and for the first time in months, Loup Garou was enjoying himself immensely. The Rikti had always been his favourite prey, and he was so deep in the hunt there was little thought for anything else.

Yet, even so, once the forces finally retreated against the onslaught of the united heroes of Paragon, once he had finally burned off his rage and adrenaline, shifting back into his half-dressed, barefoot form, he frowned. This wasn't like the Rikti...they didn't attack in these numbers, not like this. He had no idea what was going on - but he warred briefly with his hunting mind; to have prey was all it required.

But for Jean-Luc, to have a solution was more important.

Gingerly - he was in an abandoned dockyard this time, and there was debris and glass all over the place - he picked his way out of the rather battered terrain on bare feet. He could have shifted and ran out, but he needed to think. He sighed, rubbed his slightly bloody face with a hand, and shook his head.

"Merd'...mebbe I need to come outta retiremen' a bit sooner 'n I thought...."

(One of my favourite activities ingame is battling Rikti; not sure what it is about beating up those guys, but it always puts a smile on my face, and as a result Loup Garou has a particular loathing of them, literally dropping whatever he's doing at the moment to fight them. I've been hankering for a fight in an invasion since my return, and what should occur but a HUGE invasion force, hitting nearly every city ingame. I managed to aid in fighting off not one, but three different invasions. Very cool!

Anyway, if you were in the fight, or even if you weren't there in the flesh, feel free to post the butt-whooping your character was doing at the time, or perceptions thereto.

Cheers)

Jean-Luc stepped into the NHU base with a bittersweet pang; so many smells he remembered, so many new ones he didn't. The supergroup base which had been his first home when he came Up Top had changed; he frowned somewhat at all the extra gun turrets as he didn't remember quite so many before, but with Hand of Battle recovering from kidnapping and torture, he expected extra security. That the people responsible for harming his friend were dead didn't soothe his heart however, and he glared at the turrets balefully, his anger mounting - not so much against their presence but their necessity.

M'chere, Jean-Luc nevah let dat happen agin.

The door was always open to him in the NHU, but a pang of guilt twinged at him as he made his way toward the mainframe of the group's AI, HAL. He didn't particularly like the computer - it was a computer, after all, not really something to attach emotional ties to - but it was highly intelligent and very fast, if a bit literal. It could more than likely keep a hacker out of its inner workings, considerably better than the Fileosaurus.

Besides, Jean-Luc was pretty certain HAL liked a challenge.

Jean-Luc sniffed the air just outside the mainframe room, and nodded - no one was about in the base, and that was good news as he didn't particularly want anyone hearing or knowing what he was doing. He wasn't even certain HAL would actually respond to him, since he wasn't a recognised member of the NHU any more, but it was worth a shot, as a plan was starting to form in his mind.

"Bonjou, HAL, konmen lé-z'affè?"

<<C'est bon, mèsi, Jean-Luc. Shall I continue using Kreyol? I have had little opportunity to use it after your departure.>>

"Non, it's hokay, mebbe latah. I got a favour to ask you, HAL, you think you can do it? But you gotta keep it secret."

<<I am a artificial intelligence unit, and therefore I do not 'do favours', I accept tasks as I have been programmed to do.>>

"Dat a 'yes'?" Jean-Luc asked evenly, reminding himself not to start yelling. For such an intelligent computer, HAL was extremely literal.

<<Yes, I would be honoured to assist you, but you do not have clearance for a high security code.>>

Jean-Luc frowned...he was afraid of that. However, there might be a workaround...

"Welllll, so mebbe don' hide it, but if no one asks if I've been in here talkin' to you, den technic'ly y'all don' have to tell them, right?"

<<There is a certain logic to the statement.>>

"Hokay, den, don' tell nobody what you be workin' on unless dey axe you about what we workin' on...got it?"

<<Confirmed. What is the task you require of me?>>

Jean-Luc reached into the inner pocket of his leather jacket and took out the small disk Headbreaker had given him, holding it carefully between his finger and thumb.

"I got someone you gotta track down, an' set up a meetin'. But this ain't just anybody...dis onna de bes' hackers in Paragon City. I need you to fin' him usin' dis, an' I need you to set up a meetin' at Pocket D...an' y'all need to do it in such a way he can't trace you. It's gonna be hard, because like I say, he's good. De normal firewalls an' whatever you do won' be good enough."

<<Confirmed, however I am not entirely certain it will be necessary, Jean-Luc. He may be quite skilled, but he is still only human.>>

Jean-Luc narrowed his eyes slightly. I swear de damn abacus jus' sounded smug.. "He hacked another base's computer in no time atall...it gonna be a challenge. An' even more a challenge once I get what I need, as I'm gonna need yo' help again - to hack another computer."

<<Pardon me, Jean-Luc, but I must remind you hacking is illegal, and as such I cannot take part in such a task. It is against my protocol.>>

Jean-Luc had been expecting this problem however, and he merely turned his attention to the disk he was holding up, turning it this way and that in the light as he watched the refracted colours on its surface, his face poker-masked and his voice calm.

"Ah...oui, you prob'ly right. I mean, we talkin' bout goin' up agains' de smartest, mos' cunnin', dangerous computer on de Isle. Named O.R.A.C.L.E. I hear it would take three AIs over here on Paragon side to take it on. My apologies, HAL - I was hopin' y'all could do it, but even y'all have limitations."

<<It is not a matter of limitations, Jean-Luc. What you propose is a potentially illegal action.>>

"Non, it ain't. If we take O.R.A.C.L.E down, it means we take down onna de wors' supervillian groups in de Isles, de Terra Liberation Front. But I cain't do it without gettin' pas' dat computer. See fo' yo'self...do a data search on O.R.A.C.L.E."

There was a pause of a few seconds, Jean-Luc only staring blandly at the skittering screen which was HAL's outer interface feature - unlike most AIs, HAL didn't have anything remotely humanoid to relate to. However, after dealing with humanoids so long, perhaps the computer had picked up a few traits, for when the audio-leads picked up again, the computer seemed to sound rather impressed.

<<The O.R.A.C.L.E system is rather impressive, Jean-Luc. Its development is considerable - it would prove to be a definite challenge to be able to get around its defences.>>

"Dat's why I ask you," Jean-Luc replied smoothly. "Buuuuut, if you ain't up to it...I fin' another one. Like I say, dis a tough nut to crack, an' I unnerstand, this ain't like our Tetris matches." Jean-Luc made to put the disk away.

<<I do not infer I am incapable of taking on the task, Jean-Luc.>>

Jean-Luc managed not to smile at what sounded like sullenness from HAL, his brows merely raising slightly, voice as smooth and cool as ever.

"Don't get touchy, now. I'm jus' sayin - "

<<I assure you, Jean-Luc, my intellect is more than capable of dealing with the task.>>

It took an effort not to laugh. Jean-Luc didn't remember HAL ever interrupting anyone. Dam', you have been learnin' something, non?

Again, Jean-Luc raised the disk to the light, his voice as smooth and sweet as honey. "So, den?"

There was several seconds pause, and then silently, a small CD compartment slid open on the control desk. With his poker face still on, Jean-Luc carefully placed the disk in the slot, and watched as the compartment closed rather hurriedly. It seemed HAL was quite eager to get to task.

<<I will turn my attention to this problem, Jean-Luc. Shall I contact you by radio-link when I have completed the task and arranged the meeting?>>

Jean-Luc finally allowed himself a grin. "Oui, mesi bien, HAL. Dat be fine."

He expected HAL to add a further affirmation, but the computer was silent. Whatever was on the disk was interesting enough, it was already working. Or perhaps it felt it had something to prove.

Well, dat's done.

Jean-Luc headed for the portal, doing his best to ignore the pang of guilt in his gut. He didn't want NHU involved in this...actually he didn't want anyone involved, but he needed computers, or at least intelligent AIs, to take one the task he had in mind. He'd had to call in a few favours, and try to make sure he covered his tracks to make sure no one got hurt in the bargain.

Now, all I can do is wait. Jean-Luc blew out a breath, stirring the silver-white hair upon his brow as he activated the portal.

An, mon Dieu, I HATE waitin'.

Jean-Luc sat upon the bench in the changing room of the Family's fight-club, "Urban Jungle", slicked with sweat and blood. Some of it was his own, but most of it was his opponents, who had left the ring on a stretcher. It hadn't been an easy bout - there was no such thing as easy bouts in the ring - but this last one had been especially nasty.

"Merd', I hate stalkers," Jean-Luc muttered, grimacing as his quick-healing capabilities kicked in, scabbing over his wounds. He stood up with a grunt, rolling his shoulder carefully - nope, still dislocated. Gritting his teeth, he pulled roughly on his own wrist with his opposing hand, the sharp snap and flare of pain followed by a sense of relief affirming his ministrations had been successful.

This bout had been bad because Jean-Luc hadn't focussed. He was still mooning and moping; he'd thrown himself into the ring to try and get back into task and had nearly managed to get himself skewered. Eventually, he'd managed to lose himself to the fight and allow his instincts to take over, but he'd managed to put some of his Paragon-won skills to the test...he'd closed his eyes in the ring, and stopped bothering to trust them, relying instead upon his sense of smell to seek out his opponent, and lashing out, using his own concealment abilities he had learned now and again, staying unpredictable. He might not have the ability to completely disappear, but his greater stamina had won out, and he'd managed to wear out the other fighter in time for a coup de grace which pleased the crowd.

Still, his mind wasn't entirely on the task - even though he'd managed to win the bout, even though it meant a nice hunk of cash for Yakuza Girl and her charity ventures, as agreed - he wasn't entirely here. He eyed his cellphone resting upon his leathers in his personal locker. Nope, hadn't rung, no message while he was fighting. With a curse, he slammed the door shut and stumped to the showers, his bloodied face grim.

Jean-Luc showered and returned to his locker, pulling out his bike leathers just as "Il Duce" Mazoneli came round the corner. The thin Italian bookie grinned, adjusting the pencil behind one ear, his unsteady gaze darting hither and yon like a trapped bird trying to get free - it was just his way, and Jean-Luc was used to the twitchy human's mannerisms. The one thing Mazoneli was good at was gossip.

"Paisan, you were brilliant tonight, the crowd was eating that one up! Magnifico! Miss Mizuni, she'll be happy with your winnings, won't she? You haven't been defeated in four months, I could retire happy on what I've earned on you, my friend."

"Grazi, Maz," Jean-Luc replied, rubbing the towel over his face and putting on his professional smile - four months of putting men and women in hospital left a rather sour taste in Jean-Luc's mouth these days, but he wouldn't dare mention that to anyone; but at least he wasn't killing them. "I musta cos' someone an arm up dere by now, non?"

Mazoneli rubbed his hands together briskly, and Jean-Luc was immediately brought to attention, though outwardly he just hopped on one foot to put on his boots, seemingly uninterested. Whenever the bookie made that gesture, he'd got something of interest to tell.

"Oh, paisan, the Fambly is beside themselves! They're makin' plenty hand over fist, which is good, considerin' someone keeps blowin' up their assets. It must be business - whoever it is isn't killing anyone doing it, which has some of the Family honour to it, yanno? Still, distraction is good, especially with that goin' on, though - " and his voice went down to a conspiratorial whisper, a wink thrown in as well from those darting eyes. "Though, we're pretty certain who it is. They're gonna find themselves in a fix very soon, I assure you of that."

"I wouldn' wanna be on de Family's badside, that fo' true," Loup Garou said smoothly as he pulled on his other boot, his mind whirling. Mon Dieu...I gotta get holda Bill. Damn fool done stirred it up too fas'...

"You're not wrong, my friend. Right, do I give you a week to recover so you can schedule for the next fight, same as last time?"

"J'accord, Il Duce," Jean-Luc replied as he tucked his biker helmet under his arm and clapped the small man upon the shoulder. "I need to think. Bonswa."

**************

As per usual of late, Jean-Luc rode his bike much too fast, heading through the labryrinth of tunnels toward the docks to catch the very-illegal boat back to Paragon's Striga Isle.

He'd put a few things in motion, asking Headbreaker to get some information for him, though he was more than aware the former ring-fighter was in his own bind, especially now if the Family was gunning for him. The Creole sighed - Ragefang's wisdom from the Little Black Book had been right, Jean-Luc rather liked Bill, but the Corporation commandant was definitely barrelling down his chosen path like a bull, head downward and charging. One either got out of the way or was mowed under...and Jean-Luc wasn't sure what he could do.

Jean-Luc had also pressed Yakuza Girl into service, and was going to be put in touch with a young woman who had been kidnapped by one of the TLF's members. If he could at least manage to pinpoint where they might be based, it would be a start, provided he really didn't want to get too close to their main lair, as O.R.A.C.L.E wasn't an extra danger Jean-Luc wanted to deal with.

Masked Angel...in de Militia. Mon Dieu, de Militia gonna haunt me for de res' of my days..

Jean-Luc scowled, again shoving aside what he wasn't too keen to think about at the moment - hurt and embarassment was making way into anger and resentment. Not the best emotional cocktail even in good times, it was turning into poison in Jean-Luc's veins. He did everything times ten these days: rode too fast, drank too much, and thought a hole in the ground until he was pacing and feeling as if he was going to jump out of his skin. On the ferry's deck, he leaned against the railings and glared at the horizon without even seeing it.

Gotta think dis through...need to clear my head.

Jean-Luc sighed, frowning at his phone and then savagely, and rather irrationally, he shut it off. "Lesse how you like it," he muttered under his breath, then leaned back upon the railings, brooding at the Striga Isle skyline.

(Post brewing at the moment...just trying to line the ducks up before I pick them off with a sniper rifle one by one...should get one up here shortly)