MadGremlin

Drusus watched the exchange between the old herder and the warrior woman. He glanced away when she turned to look, hoping he was not noticed.

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While she was praying silently, Samen did not see where she was going, her attention on one of the stalls. She bumped into someone and fell back on her rump with an soft grunt. She stared up at the man she had run into, her eyes wide with fear. He was apparently tying his sandal.

"I'm so sorry!!!" she replied quickly in Gaelic.

"Oh," she tried again, realizing he probably couldn't understand her," Forgive me..." she tried again in Latin.

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Surprised, Drusus rolled and came to his feet in a fighting stance, hands reaching for the hidden knives. He quickly relaxed when he saw the lovely woman in the green cloak who had just bumped into him; another northern barbarian it seemed – were they invading?

She said something in some barbarian tongue, though it sounded quite pretty, and then followed up in accented Latin.

Were he a normal roman citizen, he would most likely have spat upon the foreigner, but Drusus had worked alongside, and been friends with, everyone from Picts and Brits to Egyptians and Nubians. Through his mother’s teachings and his own experiences he had learned to judge an individual on their own merits.

“Please, it was my fault; I am the one who should ask for forgiveness. What was I thinking crouched down practically in the middle of the street.” He held his hand out to help the young lady to her feet. “Are you new to Rome?”

Drusus had recognized the symbols in the corner of the small piece of parchment; those that his mother had shown him.

The note was simple:

“We know who you are and we know who your mother was. You belong with us.”

There was a time and a place written to meet; after dark at a certain street corner. It was not a place that he wanted to be walking alone, after dark, to meet some unknown persons. Yet those symbols were clear – he did have a connection with whomever wrote the note.

He tucked the piece of parchment into his belt and wandered out into the crowd of the Campus Martius. He noticed the old cow herder standing at a wagon selling his wares. The woman that approached the wagon caught Drusus’ attention. Drusus took a moment to fix his new sandal as he watched her. She was foreign – northern probably but yet her skin was quite tanned – and for some reason very attractive. There was also something about the way she stood and carried herself; weight evenly balanced, careful, measured steps, always seeming to know what was around her…

That was the way of a seasoned warrior. Drusus had been up close with enough well trained warriors to know their ways. He had seen men twice her age that had seen multiple campaigns and did not carry themselves as she did. She may be dressed as a woman of some means, but the trained eye could tell that she was a warrior.

Suddenly he realized that if she were to notice him watching her, he could easily be a victim of that combat skill. He looked down and finished tying his sandal.

Sting was a bit surprised by the reaction of the others. He had really expected Coolant, Mystic, or Officer Brian to step in and try to break things up. Heck it even sounded like Coolant agreed with a few of Sting’s points.

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So with those three things in mind do you and I really have a problem?"

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“So long as you can stop acting like you own the place, I guess we don’t have a problem. But you damn well better listen to Coolant’s considerations on where you should put your junk.”

Sting looked around and saw all of the apprehensive stares slowly turning to relief. “Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna kill anyone…today.”

Sting walked over to Mystic; “Ok, where do you want me to help out, boss?”

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Looking at Newton "Do you think you could give these gentlemen a hand bringing in my equipment? One of the crates has a small version of my containment unit so I can take my armor off to sleep. The new material I created let me build one much smaller than my original. The walls on that one were three feet thick and it was by no means mobile. My new one can be moved by truck at least. The other two contain some of my electronic and machine equipment as well as some goodies to make the 2-6 more comfortable and more secure. All of it together should not weigh more than three tons or so, how light can you make that much mass?"

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“Well looks like we have a new ‘boss’. He isn’t here 5 minutes and he is ordering poor Newton around like he’s a freaking servant or something. If you are such a genius, why don’t you get your 3 tons of crap out of the truck and haul it up there yourself smart boy.”

Sting gave the truck driver a threatening look, just for effect.

“And could you please explain what you mean by ‘we are going to need all the help we can get’? I think we have been doing pretty well so far on our own.” He said as he pointed to the pile of unconscious thugs.

Sting was now standing next to IonFlux, his 6’8” height towering over the shorter, armored man.

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In other words I am a genius. I hold multiple degrees including two Doctorates. I can design and build almost any gadget you can dream up.
I saw your first battle. You guys are going to need all the help you can get.

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((OOC: What was that sound? Oh, a fuse being lit…heh))

Sting stood up. The last thing he needed was another self-righteous, preachy punk coming in and disrespecting him. At least Coolant had reasons behind his attitude; this guy just marched in and told us we sucked!

“Maybe we don’t want some smart-a$$ coming in here, telling us what we need.” Sting pointed at IonFlux. “Hey Coolant, bring that blowtorch over here, maybe we can open this guy up and use him as a microwave oven. The spare parts we can use to help with your barricade.”

Sting wasn’t really paying attention as Newton babbled on about iced tea or some other crap.

"Geez, and I thought I was anti-social..."

Sting sat down. "So what's next 'Uncle Al'?"

“Well I’ve done my share of taking on thugs of all sorts, but nothing too fancy. Some Lost, some Council, even a few of those Circle of Thorns magic freaks – um, no offense. But nothing beyond that. I’ve mostly worked alone; for some reason others seem to have ‘issues’ with me, especially the squeamish ones.”

Sting thought for a moment. “Tactics are not my strong point. I pretty much find who needs to be stabbed and do it. Oh and sometimes I lose my temper a little bit and fly into a blind rage. It is normally triggered when I get hurt bad. Well not really blind, I can usually tell friend from foe…usually.”

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I can wear the hood and the mask and generally not draw too much attention. Especially if I carry one of those fake light sabres, they'll just think a Star Wars movie is playing nearby.

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((Ok, I almost wet myself laughing about that one!!!))

Poison was about to give a further opinion about their plan when he detected the newcomer.

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“I take it you two know each other, ‘Uncle Al’?” Newton said, needling Mystic just a little bit.

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Sting had to pretend to cough so he didn’t laugh out loud at Newton’s comment.

“Hello Brian.” Sting eyed the newcomer with a little suspicion – it was just a natural reaction for him, even though he had been identified. Sting also noticed the badge on his belt.
Great, a freaking cop. What next; we get our own OSHA and Union reps? Sting grumped to himself.

“Haha! Blend in! Good one boss. Maybe we could just camp outside and watch the place. When he goes in, we follow and tear the place down? Hmmm, I guess we could go in and beat the crap out of everyone first, and then wait for him to show.”

Sting shrugged. “Either way I’m good with it, but we may want to cover the exits to the place. No need to let him run out the back door.”

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"Nope, he's just too quick for us." Mystic slapped his hands together. "I'll explain later, right now we should get downstairs."

“Needless to say, we’ll be ordering doors. Is that the last of the neighborhood youth come to donate sports equipment?” Mystic pointed past Sting to the doorway. “We don’t have any arrest tabs yet, so we’re going to have to hold them the old fashioned way until the police arrive. I’m afraid our cold blooded friend overpowered me and got away before we could get any useful information from him.”

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Sting stood there – he knew he could catch the slow chiller, especially when he was carrying one of his cronies. Sting mouthed “What the f—k?” as Mystic flew down the stairs.

Damn, are we a catch and release program?!? I guess I need to make sure they go to the hospital if we want to keep them. Sting thought to himself.

Drusus made his way through the Subura and the market. He sighed, all that hard work to become a freeman and it was certainly a step down. As a slave he had lived and worked in palaces. Sure he was at the beck and call of the master and lived in the slave quarters, but even the worst slave quarters were better than these slums. Now he had to dodge thugs and robbers; before he just dodged old men who liked young boys. Well ok, maybe he’d rather be beaten up and robbed than the alternative. But living in squalor was no good.

In the market he traded the rabbit pelt for a much-needed new pair of sandals. As he pushed his way through the crowd to the location of his accommodations a smelly, haggard old man in a hooded cloak slipped up to him and pressed a roll of parchment into his hand. Drusus looked surprised and was about to say something when the old man gave him a toothless smile and spoke.

“We know you can read it, consider the offer, we will make it worth your while.”

Then he was gone into the crowd and Drusus lost sight of him.

Drusus held the parchment tightly until he was clear of the crowd. He didn’t understand how anyone knew he could read, or for that matter know he was here. It was rare for former slaves to read and write, but Drusus had a keen interest and often was required to read recipes or write them down for others. He sat down and opened the parchment…

Sting bounded up the stairs.

He stopped and saw Mystic looking out a broken window at the end of the hall. Sting rushed up and saw the chiller, with an unconscious thug over his shoulder, running away down the street.

If a bug can have a confused look, Sting had one now. "Um, we going after him boss?"

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Coolant grabbed a nearby chair and hurried over to the bat wielder managing to step solidly on the prone thug on the way. Planting the chair firmly in the punk’s back seemed to distract his attention from Sting (and just about everything else), and allowed Coolant to grab the bat with his free hand and splinter it.

“I don’t think we called an exterminator, gentlemen. Please leave my friend alone, thanks.”

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Sting was tempted to put a large spine through the belly of the thug, but instead settled for a fist to the solar plexus followed by a knee to the chin (twice – any knee worth throwing is worth throwing twice). The thug crumpled to the ground.

“These guys had some serious ‘Bat-Fu’, thanks for the assist there Cool.”

Sting rolled away from the follow-up blows, backing toward the rest of the group. He brandished his spines, and then kicked one of the thugs in the knee, knocking him down. “Heh, they always fall for that one.”

But the second thug was good; he came at Sting with a flurry of blows, wielding the bat like a light saber. Sting continued backing up, trying to minimize the number of blows that made contact.

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Mystic set off the alarm on his radio…

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There was a buzzing at his side – the radio’s emergency alarm, and he heard some amplified talking, but could not make it out.

What passed for their front door had been carefully set aside and he could see movement inside. As Sting leapt into the room he saw Newton lying on the ground. Several thugs were standing around he and Coolant, who was also in the room. A burst of flame the thugs as he saw Mystic hovering above.

Multifaceted eyes and motion sensing antennae are very helpful in avoiding ambush. Sting just detected the thugs on either side of door as they attacked from the shadows; it probably saved him from losing his head, but the bats still knocked him prone.

Sting just watched Mystic limp off, wondering what the hell he was talking about. Then he turned to Newton. “Was that an inspirational speech?”

Sting stood and stated; “I’m going out for a little air, be back in a bit.” With that he made a circuit of KR, avoiding any confrontations – though he did stop on a roof to watch some Lost scrounge through a dumpster and had to avoid some weird mystics up on a roof.

Soon he was back at the two-six, feeling a little better.

“Teamwork. Its not really something I am all that familiar with. I tend to just rush in and try to rip up the toughest thing I see.” Sting shrugged – which was a bit odd to see a big bug do.

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They sat there for a few moments, and Newton seemed to be spacing out a little. His expression changed a little from mild surprise to comprehension to concern. He glanced over and realized Sting was watching him. “Sorry, just thinking about things…” Newton said, a little embarrassed.

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“What’s up man? What ‘things’? If you have dirt to spill, let me have it!”

Sting took a break to share a full-sized bag of Cheetos with Newton – though he was worried that Newton would bite him if he took too many.

“So I’m thinking we might need a few more to round out this little gathering of misfits. Sure you got the bubbles, and the gravity stuff, I’m thinking we could use some more firepower and a little healing. Sure the boss-man can dish it out, but it would be nice to have some support for him.”

Sting munched on a few Cheetos, then tried in vain to wipe that orange stuff off of his fingers.

“I can’t believe there are not any other hard luck or sucker for a sob story heroes out there that would want to help.”

“Plus, we almost got our butts kicked in a little scrap; pretty sad for our first real fight.”

Well great, a freeman at last and I still end up a food taster. If I wasn’t so good at detecting poisons maybe I could actually do the cooking that I enjoy. But then again if I wasn’t so good at it, I’d be dead ten times over.

Drusus sighed as he walked the road to the city, avoiding the manure from the old man's cows. Some big party for someone and they needed extra food tasters. He was ‘asked’ to attend. He had hoped it would be as a cook – he had amazing skills in the kitchen – but it was like his slave days; food taster. Well maybe once again he would save someone important and get a bonus of some kind.

As an old man on the side of the road shifted, a rabbit sprinted across the road ahead of him. Drusus waited; he wanted this to be a challenge. One…two…three; he whipped the knife out and threw. The rabbit never really had a chance – he would eat well tonight.

Drusus was good at three things really; cooking – his first love, detecting poison – mostly because of his cooking skill, and cutlery. It had started as a hobby, juggling knives while bored, and moved up to throwing and target practice on the ever-present rats and mice. It was like he had a precognition of where something would be a moment before it was there.

He continued on the road toward the busy city.

It sounds like you have it pretty well fleshed out, not sure what you need help with really.

However, try writing it up a couple different ways: A story, A newspaper article, as described to a friend/other superhero, as a flash-back, etc.

That always helps me. Concepts are good, but put them down a couple different ways and it will sometimes spark a bit of an idea that wasn't there before.

((OOC: Was wondering if Crey or Malta had kidnapped you or something! ))

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“How is the poultice working?” Mystic pointed to the lettuce.

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Sting gave the thumbs up. “Be good to go in no time, boss.”

Sting rested for a while, letting his body heal itself. Then continued to clean and repair their ‘home’.

“Hey boss, I’m thinking since Brander was moving in on this guys turf, he might be willing to sell him out without too much effort. What’cha think?”

Paragon University RP;

Mark/SteelDragon: My character.

Dani Jones/Winter Kills: Strong woman, a friend. Has had a rough time of it, but is the kind of person you want as a hero.

Matt: Insecure and unsure of himself socially. Really needs to stop worrying so much and just be himself. Someone my character feels he could mentor a bit. But through all that insecurity when things got rough he was brave. The kind of person you want watching your back.

Hollow/Lucilla: Grad student, magic hero. Very serious - very connected. Someone who has obviously seen a lot. A great, trusted ally.

Sabrina: Cheerleader, sorority girl; but much more. Seems to not look down on others or be stuck up as one would expect. Friendly, helpful, and a hero as well. Definitely someone to hang around with.

Rasputin (Ras): Nice, but quiet. Somewhat mysterious. But fun and has a cool pet.

Trak: Grid Tech and hero. Obviously someone who can handle himself. Unsure of his history, but a good guy.

Mithril Zeta: Metal man, great sense of humor and a good hero. Already becoming a trusted friend and someone Mark enjoys being around.

Kinetic Force/Carla: Well known hero and love interest. Nice, compasionate, fun. Despite the attraction, fear that my character being around her could be a liability.

Leslie/Etheria: Just getting to know her, but she is very nice. Seems to have some secrets hidden (trying not to know all that I know after reading the posted history but its tough – great read!). Friend of Matt’s

Sting grabbed the lettuce from the floor and tore a big chunk of it off as he scooted himself to a sitting position against a wall. He started chewing it, but soon he spit out the gooey mass and worked it almost like clay. He added a little bit more of his saliva and then packed it into the wound, spreading it out on the surface to form a seal.

“Don’t ask me why it works, it just does. Damn, that was not a standard or hollow point round. That thing had some penetrating power. Who’s been giving the damn Outcasts armor piercing rounds?”

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His heavy, steel suit slowly pushed itself up to stand. Coolant grabbed a nearby plug and connected it to a slot that opened in his chest. He voiced a command for the room to warm itself to normal and stepped to the door.

“Sting, Newton, if you could get him in here, I’ll see what I can do,” replied the very tired hero as he fought off sleep.

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Sting saw Coolant come out of his chamber. “You ok man? You look as bad as I feel.” Sting brushed some ash off the end of his shortened antenna. “Lets get the boss patched up and then make sure our guest isn’t dead.”

Sting was in mid-dodge when Newton pulled him through and he fell to the floor. He quickly patted out the flames that were still burning in a few places on him. One antenna was now about 2 inches shorter than the other and blackened at the end.

“Oh $#i7 that hurts!” Sting was still on his hands and knees, as he took heavy, hissing breaths. “Boss, you gotta get that leg bandaged. Who is the medic in this unit?” Sting started to get up and fell back to one knee, then decided to just lay on his back on the floor, holding his side. “Coolant ok? And do we have any vegetable matter left? I need some for this wound.”

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Mystic turned toward Sting, "Give me a hand." Then he spun toward Newton, "Home! Take Sudden! Pull us back, starting with Coolant!"

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Sting looked up at Mystic and seemed to come back to reality. He took a moment to hurl a small batch of spines at Brander, but they only grazed him. However, they did keep him off balance long enough to allow Sting to grab Coolant.

“F#*$%, this guy weighs a ton!” Sting was strong but all of the metal in Coolant’s suit made him difficult to carry. He pushed Coolant to some cover behind the car and he soon disappeared.

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"Mystic, do you want to come back? Sting, do you copy?"

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“Boss, get out of here! You are too much of a target for the incoming.” Sting dodged a bolt of flame from Brander, who was hanging tough considering the beating he was taking.

Sting was hurting and tired, hoping he could hold out long enough for Newton to work his magic.