MrKrazy

In that case, I would more than certainly go with Tech, considering that now the ninjas themselves are using technology to attack, not just her.

"... Indeed..."

Revelin blinked at the creature's overly dramatic response, but otherwise remarked nothing on it.

"Very well, I suppose we should continue our investigation above ground. Any information on the gas, Doc? Sources, materials, et cetera?"

Beginning to turn around, the boy peaked around the corner and eventually started into the tunnel with the ladder leading up to the surface, quickly meandering to the device.

"I guess you'll have no trouble getting to the surface, then?" The boy turned to the creature, wondering.

Zero stood unflinchingly as the hulking woman advanced toward him, threatening with thinly veiled hatred, and stood equally unflinchingly when she finally backed down, having been mentally coerced to forgo her pursuit.

"Radicalism and recklessness are not the same thing. I'm certain the citizens whose lives I saved would not label me so."

And then Acid spoke, insulting his heroic and, possibly, copyright infringing, identity. He pouted yet again behind the helmet, muttering something along the lines of, "Zero's not violent... Suzaku, sure, but not Zero..."

He, of course, made certain not to let anyone else hear this statement, and merely remained silent during the negotiations of what to do with the whale now. He'd done his job, and had nothing useful to contribute otherwise.

"Labels are merely superficial, I agree. I merely used such terms to simplify my explanation. If you would like me to refine my counter, I will gladly do so."

He turned his head around to face the newcomer, noting that her armor already seemed to be crackling in anticipation of combat. "I am primarily melee. Whether the city acknowledges this or not, I am not suited nor entirely capable of helping drowning civilians. I do, however, have a beam sword and combat expertise. Forgive me," he nearly spat these words, lamenting his necessary use of them, "for doing the job I was most well suited for and possibly saving lives in the process."

"I do not define myself as a Scrapper, I define myself as a hero. A savior. One who protects. A "the best defense is a good offense" type of protector, albeit, but nonetheless, a defender of the people."

"I don't doubt your tragic pasts, as Kheldian infested humans are a discriminated sort, however, do not ignore labels as a result. Roles and labels are both entirely different, and a hatred of labels should not prevent you from realizing your role in a crisis situation."

"As for being above the law, I highly doubt it. I exert no more authority than the city's laws regarding heroes grant me. I received a call to action, looked upon the situation, used my best judgement, and acted accordingly. But by all means, inform me of my label. I am not closed to criticism."

"As well, regarding your, "Robots are not alive" argument, I believe my friend here may have an argument against that." He hiked a thumb to M221, counting on the mechanoid to counter at least that much effectively.

Having dealt with the other two, he now turned to the marine worker. "I could argue that cows are living and thinking sorts. Tell me, do you enjoy hamburgers? Or perhaps a helping of octopus, a creature proven to be extremely intelligent, would better sate your pallet?"

"Did you know that Buddhist monks, the types that abhor violence in all its forms, mind you, view the slaying of even an insect as abhorrent and beyond moral comprehension? Morals are bendable depending on one's culture, and, while I do oppose the slaying of beings, could it be helped, I will not go out of my way to protect those that instigate, aggrevate, and annihilate innocent people who have no choice in being involved in the matter. As I previously mentioned, when I noted that the whale had ceased attacking I ceased my onslaught as well. As soon as the whale made it clear that it was no longer threatening the populace, I no longer attacked. The defense of the innocent comes first, the defense of the guilty after. Tell me, do you disagree?"

"You're avoiding the question. Please, don't turn this back around on my supposed ruthlessness. I am classified as a Scrapper by the city, and, as such, my forté is not rescue, but combat. I'd assume those classified as Defenders, those whose very names define them as the rescuers, were using their powers, more fitting to that role, to defend them. My role, as a Scrapper, was to get rid of the threat. Physically disabling a whale, despite the inherent difficult, considering my unabashed ignorance of whale anatomy, would still not have done anything, considering the creature was using mind attacks. Thus, I did what was immediately necessary to ensure the safety of the people."

"Now, please, rather than scream about the ethics of killing, answer my question. If that had been a giant Vahzilok that had assaulted the people, would you still be defending it? Would you have disapproved if I had immediately gotten rid of it, by any means? Answer truthfully, you may learn something about yourself."

Zero nodded in thanks to the Warshade. "Thank you, but, just as the whale was accountable for his actions, so am I for mine. This woman deserves to hear my justification, as does that gentlemen you so timefully incapacitated." He nodded to each in turn indicating them visually so as to work in tandem with his voice.

"That makes it sentient," He responded simply to the girl, subconsciously stancing himself and grasping the hilt of his blade, "Which also makes it responsible for its actions."

He allowed her to strike his helmet, not doing much in retaliation, however, when it came to the animal specialist, he rose a forearm, deflecting the slowly paced blow on both occasions.

"Tell me, sir, whose life do you value more? Those of the innocent bystanders, children, mothers, wives, husbands, fathers, uncles, aunts, volunteer workers, firefighters, and, indeed, even vets? Or that of the homicidal whale? Would you have sacrificed everyone present here today if it meant that the whale had been unharmed?"

Quoting his namesake, he continued. "The only ones who should kill are those who are prepared to be killed. Krill Killer, as the name so heftily implies, had every intention of snuffing out the life of everybody present. The creature would have had no remorse, and, in all actuality, would likely have laughed at his triumph, based on the motives he portrayed. The fact that, when actually met with resistance, it curled into a ball and cried is clouding your judgement on the matter. Had I hesitated any longer, many citizens would likely be dead, either via drowning, psychic trauma, or otherwise, and, if you'll notice, once it was no longer deemed a threat, I discontinued attacking. I only dealt it two blows," He emphasized this by holding up two fingers, ironically emulating the peace sign, "throughout our entire encounter, and each was to ensure that it would not harm those that did not deserve it."

"Tell me, were it a killer robot, or a hydra, or a giant Vahzilok, any of which with psychic powers, would you hesitate to have the heroes destroy it? Would you believe that a psychic Hydra would be worth preserving, or perhaps a Vahzilok intent on harvesting the flesh of the citizenry? Answer honestly, please. Lying isn't heroic."

... Evidently, his flair for the dramatic extended into debates, as well...

((Gonna wait for Zortel before I respond, but he does have his helmet on now. Humid or not, he doesn't like not having it, as is evidenced in Final Fight. >.>))

"About a yard, maybe a little longer." He responded casually, either hiding well the fact that he was being sarcastic or honestly being that dense.

"Is there an issue, citizen? It was my understanding that The Malevolent Mammalian,"

He seemed to be rather fond of that villain name, despite the creature's insistance on its own.

"was on its way to a full recovery, despite its open threats to kill innocents and maim bystanders, and its numerous attempts to do so. Am I incorrect in assuming so?"

It was all asked innocently enough, Hell, he even had his hero voice out for the conversation. However, underneath the mask, his eye twitched. Were these people honestly going to reprimend him for incapacitating an immediate threat, despite lethal force? Really?

This must be the beginning of a 'Civil War' arc.

"'Proper Heroes' do not show compassion to those that would threaten the innocent." Zero replied, pouting childishly under his helmet at her beratement.

"As for non-lethal attacks, it would be foolish to fight with a handicap, and I am not fluent in the art of whale biology and anatomy. Forgive me if my intent to stop a psychic killer was not in the realm of your forgiving morals, but an immediate kill would have been most beneficial for the innocent populace. I would not spare the life of a villain for those of countless innocents."

The Knight of Zero only nodded to M221, responding with an understanding answer. "Bias. Had it been the Hydra, I doubt many would be defending its presence, either. The issue of current events clouds the morals of all involved."

((If M221 is scanning random heroes, The Knight of Zero's profile would explain he was classified as a Scrapper, primary tools being a beam broadsword and an energy shield. He's been on the job as a hero for only three months, and has not obtained significant secuity clearance. Depending on M221's security level, he could cross reference files showing that it was not due to his lack of skill, but more to do with his flair for the dramatic, threatening operations and failing missions on numerous occasions so that he could appear more theatrical. He truly believes life is a comic book.

His known power, aside from his gear, was a unique little thing that he himself had dubbed Geass, and, indeed, had centered his entire motif about. If he has direct eye contact with a person, he can force them to seriously consider any command he gives, essentially making it the equivalent of one's really good friend attempting to convince them to do something. He can't effectively order anything useful unless given the correct situation, but still, the city has recognized it as a legitimate ability.

It also appears that he has a sub-mutation, though those researching it have yet to identify its properties.

He's generally seen as a hinderance to many heroes, though some genuinely find him entertaining and, on occasion, useful, certain moreso against the clichéd villains than the practical ones.))

Well, if I don't, it'll seem rude. Again, I don't wanna piss this thing off...

Revelin's own hand extended, grasping the wolf's paw as best he could.

"Alright then. I am Revelin Maddox, for the record. Firstly, what have you discovered from interrogating these men?"

He gestured around to the slain Vahzilok, feeling it superfluous to note the Hellion in the hall behind him.

Despite his better judgement, Revelin was becoming quite accustomed to this creature. At the very least, it hadn't killed him, and at the most had even made a pact to protect him. While he wasn't certain if he could trust the beast, popular fiction stated that millenia year old, darkness covered pseudo-demons weren't exactly the most honorable bunch. Nonetheless, he would follow along with this pact. After all, it was the best option, at the time.

((My my, this is moving quickly...))

"Meh..." The Knight of Zero muttered as he landed next to M221, looking out at the spared whale. "How anti-climactic."

It was true. The villain was getting away despite his attack on Paragon, simply by merit of his being a whale.

"Y'know, I guarantee you that if this thing wasn't mentally snivelling," He stated to M221, dropping his eloquent speech due to his annoyance, "He'd be a beach wide entré. Y'think?"

Folding his arms over his chest and mentally huffing, a sword was returned to its sheath and a helmet taken off due to the humidity inside. Muttered insults directed at the whale could be heard emanating from his concealed lips, but otherwise no movement was made.

The Stuff of Divinity? Star Matter? The Fifth Element? The Hidden Element? The Final Trigger? Alchemist Treasure? Inovation Manifest? The Golden Sun?

"The Philosopher's Stone? The famed material rumored to be able to transmute lead to gold? That?"

Staring up at this creature, wide-eyed, Revelin pondered.

Evidently, this thing is ancient. But why reveal itself now? Did the gas stir it? It's clearly interested, but why the gas, what with everything else that happens in King's Row?

"And you say you have plenty of this? Very well, I'll take you up on your offer. We'll discuss payment before we part ways."

Regardless of the creature's answer, this would be how Revelin replied. Truly, he was more interested in exiting the sewer system, as the heavy gas appeared to already be draining through the grates.

Carmot? Money? But it seems so strange that a creature such as this should offer such a thing. It has to be something else. He seems like a product of magic, perhaps it's some kind of ritual?

"I'm unaware of the meaning of Carmot. However," He straigtened his back, facing the creature. "I'm certain we can work something out. If you would be so kind as to explain?"

I just need to be certain not to piss it off...

The Plague. The gas. Obvious.

The Motes? Slightly less so. The Plague is affecting the Motes, so the people?

And the Pebbles. Pebbles create ripples in water, which is what a mote is, so those with the power to change society? Meta-humans?

So he wants to know who released the gas.

"Unfortunately," Revelin continued, backing away slightly but feeling marginally better now that he had translated the Wolf's vocabulary, "I don't know. That's partially the reason that I'm here, so that I can find out myself."

Hopefully that would be satisfactory. If not, well, he'd yet to reveal his other ability...

Fear still sounded in his eyes, however, and Tienxia would no doubt see this. How he would react, though, was a different story.

((Best. Robot. Ever.))

"Villain! Vile, ghastly, heathenistic, irreproachable, malcontented, incomprehensible, dastardly, evil, destructable, damning, ambivalent, malevolent, despicable, defying..."

He continued on like that for the majority of the wail, using sheer willpower, (Or perhaps his skull was simply that thick?), to avoid losing grip on his sword.

Gasping, perhaps melodramatically, panting as if having just been dealt a fatal blow by the Big Bad, he spoke. "You will turn to Justice! You will fight alongside Truth and all that is Righteous!"

With a click and a whirr, the panel over his left eye opened up, dramatically revealing an eye with a Geass contact inserted into it.

"I, Lelouch Vi Britannia, command you! Becom- GAH!"

He seemed to forget that they were currently underwater.

The salty liquid rushed into his helmet through the newly found hole, forcing the youth up and out of the water, taking care not to forget his sword in the process. Stumbling, Zero came up, tripping, on top of the whale, ripping off his helmet and gasping for air, only to hear...

((Do you mean English, Fanservice? American's not a language... >.>))

"My sense of dramatic timing is tingling!"

Some particularly observant bystander might have been able to hear a faint battle cry from the apex of the sky, its source vasly unseeable to the naked eye save for a small black dot. This continued for several minutes, during which time other heroes had already stolen this supposed 'dramatic timing'. Nonetheless, the Knight of Zero did not hold back, even when reality refused to conform to his standards. Eventually, he fell, jamming a glowing, blue, beam broadsword between the eyes of the psychic abomination.

"You will rue this day, Malevolent Mammalian! The good people of this beach have every right to enjoy the taciturn and quaint enjoyment of their time off, just as you've every right to roam the muky depths from which you've no doubt emerged! Persecuted or not, I can not condone the senseless murder of these innocent people, nor can I permit you to continue with your operation! Malevolent Mammalian, you shall be vanquished this day!"

Whether or not the whale laughed at him was his business. True, this man impersonating Zero solely for 'dramatic' effect was certainly a humorous sight. However, things tended to become less funny when one's head was pierced.

"Convert to the side of justice or fall beneath the heels of those who serve it!"

... Doc... I hate you.

"You would address him as a man." He stated, the boldness of the statement likely having been hindered due to his form. Nonetheless, he was no actor, and thinly veiled fear leaked into his eyes. Nonetheless, Revelin stood his ground, boldly stepping fully around the corner so as to face the creatuer. A foolish maneuver, perhaps, but the Doc had something up his sleeve, right? He had to...

... Right?

The being is self-aware, at least. The mutilated corpses almost certainly appeared to have been interrogated, if not outright tortured, so, sadistic or not, it's intelligent. Does that mean I could talk to it? It did say I could help, though I'm not certain I like its tone.

... Dammit, I never should've written that editorial...

"You're asking me to go into the sewers...?"

The boy glared at nothing in particular, replacing a random trash can with the mocking visage of Doctor Skjbene and scornfully viewing it accordingly.

"You're a real jerk, y'know? You know I can't refuse..."

A sigh, a broken storm drain, and a ghastly scent later, Revelin descended into the seedy underworld known as Paragon's sewers, giving pursuit to a Venom-esque black mass that threatened to devour random corpses, his entrance being rewarded by the sight of a black tail whipping around a corner, a rather... grisly Hellion leaving his remains along the sidewalk of the stream of sewage.

Dammit, my timing is perfect... That sucks!

Still, though, orders were orders. Dashing silently after the ooze, he could only hope the creature had disappeared again as he rounded the corner.

"What the Hell...?"

What appeared to be a tar-like, primordial muck rose from the grate of a nearby gutter, sliding along the ground before turning into a random alleyway. The thickness of the gas almost obscured his vision, but Revelin was certain that he'd observed at least that much.

"Hey, Doc, what's that thing?" His childish, inquisitive voice queried, walking nonchalantly toward the ooze with hands now buried in pockets. "Some byproduct of the gas?"

He was certain that it wasn't at least one thing: Safe. Especially now that he was observing it devour the corpse of some kind of wolf... thing... A War Wolf, most likely.

"... Odd..." But if nothing else, it convinced him to remain a good distance from this thing, tentatively following behind it until it disappated into the ground.

"What...?" Jogging up, he stood in the location where it had disappeared, crouching down and searching for any sign of it. "What is this thing...? This is solid concrete..."

"Uh huh."

"Yes, understood."

"Yeah, yeah..."

"Look, I've got it. Get in there, melt some faces. Data's what you want, right, you sick *******?"

"Understood."

"Yeah, we just landed."

"... Yeah yeah, I know, you're always watching."

A young child, roughly eight or nine, casually stepped out of an Arachnos transport dressed in nothing but an oversized flack jacket and equally oversized shorts, the legs reaching down past his ankles and the sleeves of his jacket hiliariously rolled so that his hands were free. The jacket he wore was riddled with holes where bullets had been shot, and was black both from its fiber and from the soot of a thousand fires. It appeared that this jacket had been through quite a lot, even if its current occupant lacked that same description. His shorts, however, appeared to be brand new, and, in fact, one might notice a forgotten tag hanging out from the waist. They were a beige color, contrasting the jacket's darkly augmented coloring.

His brown hair was cut relatively short, and equally brown eyes watered as he was exposed to the noxioius fumes, his small frame doubling over in sickness as he was so suddenly exposed.

"Wh- What the Hell? You told me nothing of this damned gas!" The transport was already long gone, leaving no one to help the child's coughing and fuming. Steadily, however, he recovered, and, after only ten minutes, was able to rise off of the ground where he'd collapsed, now seemingly unaffected by that which had killed so many.

Muttering a well concealed, "Dammit Doc," he began to walk, rubbing his head so as to address his slowly dulling headache. "You didn't say anything about this gas. What gives?"

---

Yet more walking didn't reveal much outside of the occasional looter who thought he could survive the biological agent and many, many corpses, the sight of which only mildly disturbed the youth at this point. "I really don't see what you want me to do here, Doc."

A few Meat Doctors, primed with buzzsaws and heavy duty gas masks, suddenly marched past him, literally giggling with glee as the sheer amount of corpses now at their disposal. "A cornocopia of gore and sacrifice!" one cried, spying another body and hurriedly walking toward it, seperating from the group.

Suppose I really don't have anything else to do.

The child approached this man cutting into an already deceased body, picking and choosing from the healthiest looking organs inside. He allowed the pseudo-zombie the first word.

"Aw, cute little kid. Pretty resilient too, without the mask. Tell me, how old are you?"

He did nothing more in reponse than extend both arms, hands outstretched as palms faced the Vahz.

"Ten years old? My my, you're a big boy, aren't you? Tell me where are your par- GAH!"

Literal balls of fire lept from the boy's hand into the Vahzilok's face, singing skin and melting flesh, effectively blinding him for the time being. The child kept it up until the man was smoldering on the pavement.

"And one more bit of scum out of the way."

Indeed, welcome one and all! We'll be happy to have you all here as our guests!

>.>

<.<

*Whisper* Say, uh, one of my parents is from London, can you guys spare me from the inevitable hostile takeover? Thanks.

Ah, new blood. Exactly what I need to get me back in the game.

As for the whole 'u' thing, I personally don't mind, but, having a Brit as a parent, I'm probably pretty used to it by now.

Jake begrudgingly opened one eye upon his acceptance of the briefing, glancing over the folder for little more than half a second before thinking of a complaint. "OK, if you had these mission briefings all set up beforehand, why were we asked for suggestions? Seems kinda superfluous if they weren't gonna make a difference anyway." He shrugged. "But whatever, what do I know? Lead the way, mon capitain."

Nate, still, just sat waist deep in his pool of self-pity, silently nodding to Jake's command.

Jake, still with his eyes closed, recited his plan once more. "Again, if we destroy his economy, we destroy New India, which is, at this point, potentially just as dangerous as the damned book itself. All it will take is an assault on his mining facilities, or his factories, or whatever. Odds are they won't be defended nearly as well as anything near his physical self."

Nate thought to speak up, (He had ignored Jack's previous comment, his mind in other places.) but quieted down just as quickly. Jake was right last time, why wouldn't he be right now? Defeated, his shoulders slumped, nodding a silent agreement to his, in his mind, superior's plan.

"Wait, so that whole escapade to save this lug was in vain?" Jake noted, hiking a thumb to the Jagerkin and scowling slightly at the wasted effort. He muttered, something, not waiting for an answer and turning to Nate. "And you dragged me out of bed for him! I knew I should've just laid there. Next time, let the veteran decide, OK?" Still scowling and cursing under his breath, Jake reclaimed his previously lost pillow and comforter, tossing against a wall and plopping down onto them. "If you need me, don't ask." He shouted across the rooming, eyes shutting like a broken camera, doomed to never take a picture again.

Nate, naturally, returned the scowl, however, knew internally that he had in fact made a mistake, and Jake was in fact correct. And this upset him. Jake was the senior officer and longer veteran of the two of them, and the fact that he had just rushed in while Jake's combat instinct (Or laziness? Nate was inclined to believe the latter, but you never could tell with him. He was like a bomb of genius that only went off a fourth of the time.) upset him to no end. His newb was showing, and he knew it.

"Well, fine, we'll put the oaf on a leash and get down to business. Where do we go from here, then?" He said, nearly shouting, clearly attempting to conceal his error from his pride.