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((you may regret this, Devious >.>
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Flashpoint Zeo gave the cyborg a dubious look. If this 'outside source' were in constant contact, that meant that he had at least a tenuous thread back to Primal Earth, or at least someplace that had the capability to get there... a useful bit of information to know.
"Are in contact with outside source?" he asked the drone. "If only place 'source code' is heard is inside head of idiot, would suggest is time for outside source to remove stick..." this last with a surprisingly eloquent gesture, despite being rendered by hands swathed in several inches of steel... "and get on with things."
Then his head snapped up. He didn't even hear Isabel's question about them slowing, but held up an authorative hand. "To be holding on to something." he snapped. Then the train jerked as if it had just been derailed... or as if something very large and/or strong had just latched on and begun pulling.
The train jerked again, and a huge, vaguely transparent boot flashed past the window to disappear again. Then ghostly fingers the size of bananas appeared through the ceiling. They solidified with a shower of sparks and shriek of wrenching metal, then peeled back like that cheap plastic you can never quite get off slices of processed cheese.
The huge ghost thus revealed ignored the passengers and slid inside the traincar, grabbing the floor and hauling on it, heaving against the force of the engine. It was easily four or five meters tall, and bore at least a vague resemblance to the Tsoo's Ancestor Spirits, although, aside from being much larger, it also looked far more heavily armoured, and glints here and there suggested recessed blades.
Ahead, two more ghosts were holding grimly on to the train, while two more were coming up from behind. The tunnel was filling rapidly with otherworldly mist, and stacatto chanting in Cantonese could dimly be heard, strengthening as the mist got thicker.
"Guessing China not fully pacified by Dark Sovereign." Flashpoint commented drily as he picked himself up off the floor. The big tank was now one of the strongest illumination sources in the area, all other lights seeming oddly muffled and far away. -
"Trickery not involved." the Tanker said, sounding faintly amused. "Is related to nature of speech pattern and workings of human brain."
He waved a huge gauntlet at the various passengers on the train. "Am speaking what language?" he asked the traincar at large.
((So, as a reminder- anybody (human... or genetically engineered by humans, as their brain architecture would likely be at least partially based on humans) listening to Flashpoint Zeo would hear him speaking their native language, no matter how obscure. There are a handful of exceptions, but I don't think anyone currently near him qualifies...)) -
"Would prefer to avoid random murder, if possible." Flashpoint interjected, sounding a bit pained. "Limits future options, and is... distatestful. Judging by craziness of idiot when triggered, though, not-killing possibly not option."
"Would not suggest jamming signal- if are sufficiently paranoid to cause 'boom' when cyborg defeated, are likely sufficiently paranoid to cause boom when signal stops also." he added.
Then he turned thoughtful. "Triggered..." he mused. "Attack focussed on self; cause known to you?" he asked the drone, facing it directly for the first time, rather than staring out the windows. -
Flashpoint Zeo stood, still unruffled. "Is perhaps time to begin thinking of aftermath. Leaving end to chance close to guaranteeing chaos and bloodbath worse than anything Dark Sovereign manages. Tyrant usually likes to have kingdom left at end of day, limits options for carnage somewhat." The massive tank glanced out the window of the train, watching the tunnel walls rush by.
He glanced at the little drone when it spoke. "Think have missed part of conversation." he said, not particularly perturbed that a small red drone was speaking to him. In nearly two decades as a super, he'd certainly seen odder. "Technology, rather than contact, lost. Technology recently reinvented, recovered, whatever. Incursion caused to try and retrieve crazy [censored] evil Statesman popsicle to stop even worse crazy [censored] evil. Unsure of logic, but not my world." he said with a shrug.
He glanced back at the Kommandant at the man's question. "Supposed to know how? Ask thing, guaranteed more reliable answer then." he said offhandedly. Given that the thing didn't seem inclined to try and kill him, the tank rather doubted it was the 'real' Egregore, but, lacking any further information, didn't feel like guessing. -
Flashpoint Zeo had listened to the brief history of the Dark Sovereign impassively, his body language almost perfectly still and his cowled face giving away nothing of what he thought. "Am not worried about Primal Earth. Portal Corps very, very good at job; have cut off large number of unwanted dimensional intrusions without trouble." he started. "World here different story. What happens when otherworldly warmonger gets boot?" the burning giant asked.
That their small team could do it he had little doubt; the superhuman residents of Paragon City did the impossible so routinely that they got rather dangerously blase about it. The situation here was unquestionably grave, but after Rularuu, Praetorian Earth, the Rikti, Nemesis, the Malta Group, Arachnos, the Nictus and the Council, the Carnival of Shadows, the Tsoo, the Family, the Freakshow, the Psychic Clockworks, the Crey Corporation... it was easy to see why a dimension-full of ultra-tech cyborg supersoldiers and war machines kind of got a 'been there, done that' reaction from the long-time super.
Of course, none of this was evident in his voice or stance, merely quiet confidence. -
Flashpoint Zeo planted himself firmly just off the aisle, not deigning to sit down. In truth, the seats were far too small to be comfortable for him, even if he didn't prefer to stand. He glanced at the two women as he slowly digested the information Kruger had sparingly dished out.
"Is some resemblance." he commented, eventually. The two women also smelled surprisingly similar for people from entirely different worlds, but people tended to get creeped out when he announced things like that, so he kept it to himself. -
Flashpoint Zeo's gaze rested on the Kommandant for a long while, burning yellow eyes gauging Kruger with almost reptilian patience. Then he nodded, once, although what he had seen was known to him alone. "Apologies." he said, "But is difficult to judge moral worth when in pitched combat against unprovoked attack. Killed thousands for no reason." The burning titan went silent for a while, watching the train come in.
Then, unexpectedly, he spoke up again. "Knew Dr. Webb, first explorer from Primal Earth here. Was good man. Did not deserve what happened." Another spate of silence, this time distinctly less comfortable. "Do not wish to start trouble, but is necessary to know. What happens if am of Gypsy descent? Or Jewish?" the tank asked, shifting position very subtly. If shooting started, Isabel would find herself behind him in very short order. -
Flashpoint Zeo shrugged at the Kommandant's comments. "If Amerika Corps finest Axis Amerika has to offer, not worried. Went down like punks." Then burning yellow eyes flickered as the blazing tanker blinked. Something in the way Kriger had phrased things... "Dark Sovereign has taken over from Global National Socialist Party?" he asked carefully. His eyes narrowed. "If 'Dark Sovereign' Nemesis, finding and sticking sword into right now. Nemesis Plots annoying as hell."
The tanker surpressed the urge to sigh. There was a certain irritating inevitability to the situation- things were never so bad that they couldn't get worse. Following the group out, he glanced back as he sensed Egregore not moving... or at least, not moving much; the cyborg was kind of twitching. "Think has screw loose." he commented succinctly, with a jab of his thumb back towards Egregore Device. -
((M'kay... sent you a PM re. all this, since it may clear a few things up))
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((like I said, it's totally involuntary on his part. There's no 'off' switch. If he's talking, it's heard in the listener's native language. And just as an FYI, actually succesfully blasting it out of him would be a really, really, really bad idea, would violently derail this RP, kill Flashpoint Zeo, and probably every living thing on that planet eventually. So it's not going to happen))
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Flashpoint Zeo glanced down at the smaller man who had arrived. Admittedly, almost everyone was smaller than the massive tanker, but anyways...
"In business where assumptions unwise." he said. "But is safe guess that Reichsmann subject of questions." Then Egregore woke up.
"Pity physical trauma fails to cure stupid." Flashpoint commented. "Am Flashpoint Zeo. Was attacked by you without reason in sewers. Currently occupying Axis Amerika dimension... someplace." he told the cyborg.
The big tank stretched a little, elbows brushing the ceiling. "Cannot give much info on Reichsmann. Was only peripheral part of fight. Reichsmann fought counterpart almost to standstill- was impressive. Unfortunately, rest of Reichsmann's team not so impressive, got curb-stomped by alternates, then Reichsmann gang-beaten by entire team. Rest of Reichsmann's forces obliterated by concerted joint effort by other supers, including self. Reichsmann now popsicle under bombed-out section of city." Flashpoint summarized.
Of course, knowing that the Reichsmann was under a bombed out-section of city didn't help whoever these people were much- even if they connected the dots that Statesman was the Reichsmann's alternate- not much of a leap, admittedly- and that he had been based in Paragon... there was a lot of bombed-out real estate in Paragon City, and if these were, indeed, Nazi sympathizers, it would take them decades to dig up enough of the city to find the Reichsmann. -
Flashpoint Zeo went from catatonic- he had entered a healing trance when he failed to activate the energizing charm he had been straining for, and the psi bomb had washed over his dormant brain like water over a rock- to full flame, blitzing around the hospital room three times before the echo of his big boots hitting the floor had time to bounce back.
Satisfied at the lack of deathtrap, he glanced back and noticed Isabel was upright. "Good. Are here." he commented, nodding to Isabel. He took a deep breath and concentrated, his flames suddenly going a brilliant green, fat yellow sparks spraying out as his wounds closed and even his armour sealed shut.
"Better." he said, then noticed Egregore still unconscious on the table. "Great. Idiot here too. Have been awake long enough to find out where have been dragged?" he asked Isabel, wandering over to position himself near the doorway.
If anybody popped through with hostile intentions, it would fairly quickly go rather hard for them. The big tanker might be incredibly durable and fast, but he hadn't lasted this long in the supers game by being stupid. -
Flashpoint Zeo had stopped a split-second after snagging Egregore Device; while impressively strong, even for his massive size, he wasn't so much so that he wouldn't notice the fact that he was now literally carrying his foe. Unfortunately, the momentum he had been depending on to do damage carried him a good distance beyond his enemy after Egregore dropped to the floor.
Turning to blur back down the hallway after Egregore, the big tanker stopped radiating volcanic flames; now that the fight was moving back towards his ally and a possible group of friendlies, or maybe non-combatants- guns or no, the frightened group in grey fatigues looked about as threatening to the big tanker as a cluster of worried bunnies. The foul-smelling mist of vapourized blackwater began to disperse... unfortunately too late to avoid stepping onto the nuclear tripmine.
With the blast, Flashpoint Zeo abruptly found himself being hurled down the hallway, ricocheting and flailing, a massive flaming meteor. His abruptly-erratic movement meant most of the sapstick blasts missed pathetically, and he was slamming into the walls hard enough to spray stone chips in all directions at bullet velocities. Just about anything unlucky enough to get crashed into by the out-of-control tanker would likely be smashed like a bug.
Eventually, he caromed to a thundering halt not far from where the retreating grey-garbed soldiers had found their quarry, around a corner. "Ouch." he commented absently, sounding a bit abstracted. In truth, he was dangerously tired, both physically and mystically. He remained in the heap he had crashed into, struggling to hold onto his defenses and simultaneously muster the energy to activate a small, glowing blue charm from the set he always carried with him. -
((A wizard did it. Quite literally. What did you think 'mystic flame' meant? Assuming the slugs in question were Lead (not an unreasonable assumption, methinks), their melting point is actually 600K, which can be achieved in a household oven. So... not exactly the most extreme of heats. Unless you meant boiling point, in which case, yah, I'll agree. But, well, Fire Tank is still Tank... speaking of which, what the hell is Egregore in game terms? I'm guessing AR/Traps Corruptor, but it's kind of hard to tell.
And how exactly is his thermal shielding not making him stand out against the extremely hot background like a huge, cold blob? ... for that matter, how is he moving unseen through the steam, cloaked or otherwise, and seeing so unimpaired through it?))
The typical *FZZZAARP* noise of teleporting behind him was all the Tanker needed- he accelerated like a scalded jackrabbit, sprinting away from the oncoming attack at nigh-impossible speeds, whirling the boiling cloud that surrounded him into strange, hallucinatory shapes. "Getting annoying, this is." he complained briefly as he ran.
The mace still tagged him, adding a fresh trail of scoring down along the back of the battle-scarred armour, just inside the left shoulderblade. The flames there flickered, dimming in comparison to the rest of the brilliant wash of orange-to-blue-white flame that roared hungrily around the Tank. Whether or not anyone could make that out clearly in the eerily dancing lights and wildly billowing fog was an open question, however. "Stuck on whole worldful of crazy Nazis, and attack fellow-hero instead. Are stupid or just... no, think stupid is only option."
It would probably clear up after a short while, but for the moment, Flashpoint Zeo had a crack in his armour. This didn't deter the blazing giant in the slightest as he spun about and raced down the hallway at impressive speeds, a blazing comet once more as he simply barrelled down the hallway with his arms outstretched, flaming swords materialized in each hand, angled downwards slightly. If Egregore was in his path, he was going to get mowed down by a quarter-ton of fiery tank, catch a superspeed clothesline, or get three feet of sharpened fire across the solar plexus. -
((... chain mace? I'm thinking we're seeing this trope in action >.>
Also, maybe this is a failure of imagination on my part, but I simply can't figure out why Egregore thinks a shotgun is going to do a whole lot. Flashpoint is clearly heavily armoured, and engulfed in flame which has already shown itself to be capable of vaporizing incoming whatever))
Flashpoint Zeo did something that Egregore probably didn't expect after being gutshot... well, the slight grunt was likely expected, although the giant tanker's complete and utter failure to collapse bleeding was probably somewhat disappointing, although given that the heavy slugs had actually been fast-moving vapour before they even penetrated the outer layer of fire armour, it can't have come as a complete surprise... at any rate, Flashpoint simply stepped aside a little to allow Isabel a clear shot, although he was careful to maintain pressure on the bizarre mace... thing... his opponent had blocked with. -
((aye, that's what I was waiting for as well >.>
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((I see... so your thermal shield grants you total immunity to fire, smashing, lethal and cold, but my Tanker-level Fire Shield has to be vulnerable to your weapons? I don't bloody think so.))
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((... Bwerp? Greater Fire Sword is nearly half lethal damage. If Egregore just stood there and took it with nothing but fire defenses... congratulations, he's now lying on the floor in two pieces.
Also, Devious, edited my previous post to burst pipes to get the steam.))
The ghost-bomb widget had really not had a lot of effect on Flashpoint Zeo- he was hardly a ghost, and something that depended on heat and concussive force wasn't going to do a great deal to somebody with shields of mystic flame. He hadn't even broken stride, although once again a brief green flare showed that some damage had gotten through.
When the cyborg vanished, Flashpoint sighed. "Have finished wasting time yet?" he asked irritably as he settled back on his heels, still standing in the midst of a boiling cloud- the pipes down here were solid workmanship, but hadn't really been designed to handle these kinds of temperatures... or, for that matter, the waves of open flame that radiated out from the Tanker to splash across the floor and climb up the walls a little ways. The tanker re-focussed slightly, concentrating more on his thermal vision.
If the cyborg was maintaining his thermal defenses- something that was probably only prudent, considering how warm it was getting in the tunnels- if he approached the flame tank, he would be broiled in fairly short order, and it was getting uncomfortably warm a good distance away- he would stand out like a Quaker at a rave, a cool spot against the roasting-temperature background. If he had deactivated his thermal defense to maintain his cloak, he'd be having other problems... like air hot enough to scorch his lungs with every breath.
As he scanned, Flashpoint Zeo was already moving forwards, swinging his giant sword back and forth with metronomic regularity, filling the entire tunnel with every sweep. Even if the cyborg remained somehow magically immune to both the flame and the deadly cutting edge, a hit would reveal his position and, if the Blaster were paying attention, would result in Egregore getting his butt blasted. -
[ QUOTE ]
[ QUOTE ]
Guardian Units to report to civilian protective services as gateway to civilian to super being contact. Guardian Units are to enforce a protective detail for all of our civilians as well as detail units to supply Offensive Units with munitions and support and assist in bringing wounded beings to triage and hospital services.
Protector Units to report to hospital, civil, airport, seaport, and set up defense barricades and trench lines in the event that the offensive units have to fall back. Aid to Guardian units in details of support to offensive lines and supplies as well as seeing to fallen super beings.
Both units to set up balance of protecting banks and financial systems including market operations. The last thing we need is riots at a time when all energy must be focused on removing this threat
[/ QUOTE ]
Our assignment is now clear. To the barricades!
[/ QUOTE ]
... I do not understand this de-fense. You mean you stand in one place and kill things?
(why yes, I am a Blaster)
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((Speech cut off = stopped talking in most usages, for future reference. And just having someone try rather futilely to kill him isn't likely to make Flashpoint Zeo stop talking >.>
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Flashpoint tossed a glance at the rest of the group. "To be moving back, please." he said as he blurred after the teleporting Egregore. Flames writhed around the tank, intensifying as the pipes began to explode, water pouring out to flash into steam as it got near the fiery tank.
By the time he was halfway to Egregore, he was a blazing comet in the heart of a roaring wall of boiling cloud, rushing down on the cyborg at an impressive velocity. Somewhere in there, anything that Egregore had kicked at him would have passed near him, assuming it wasn't incinerated in the wild mystic fires that now roared around him or knocked askew by the coruscating bolts of force now peppering the air, blue and orange lights filling the haze with strange illusions.
Steam filled the tunnel, scalding hot where the tanker stood, thick enough to make it difficult to breathe, as Flashpoint Zeo came to an abrupt halt near Egregore in an attempt to get on his blindside. "Have started hostilities." the tanker said from within the cloud, firelight dancing across the suspended droplets, making it hard to judge exactly where he was.
A six-foot long flaming sword abruptly materialized from the haze, starting behind where the cyborg had last been seen and stretching out beside him. "Will not be one to finish them." The sword... moved.
A blazing web made of streaks of flame formed as Flashpoint attacked, steam whipped into strange shapes and dancing lights as the tanker moved through a surprisingly fluid series of cuts with the huge fire sword, occasionally carving scores in the tunnel walls as his vast reach extended beyond the boundaries of the narrow confines they fought in. -
((Uh... Bwerp, this could go on for a good long while, considering Flashpoint's speaking whatever language that Egregore is hearing is totally involuntary on his part. Also, bloody well stop trying to interrupt. Also, Egregore better have a human base under that cyborg-ization, because otherwise, he'd just hear English. Or maybe Chinese))
Unfortunately for Egregore's toys, Flashpoint was more than ready for them, and the canister was vaporized in a bright flare of flame. Then the Tanker was there, behind Egregore before the sap stick went off, and reaching for him with hands blazing like the sun. "To be wishing to be crispy-fried, yes?" the Tanker said quietly in Egregore's ear. If the cyborg tried the vomit trick again, he would find that Flashpoint Zeo didn't actually have stomach acid. He had flame. And, given that the big tanker was standing directly behind Egregore, the consequences would be... unfortunate. -
Despite the heavy hood, Flashpoint Zeo had sharp ears. The faint hum of Egregore's weapon dematerializing, earned a quick glance from the burning giant. At the materialization of the psi bomb, he moved for the first time, a brief flicker of flame as his arm blurred upwards... to tap the side of his head through the thick cloth covering it.
A brief flare of pinkish energy, and the tanker's psionic shield activated, the Vanguard tech codenamed 'Elusive Mind'. That, however, was his only reaction other than a faint grunt when the bomb went off- he didn't stop speaking, and calmly finished what he had been saying, although a brief green swirl and fat yellow sparks amidst the flames hinted that he had taken some damage from the attack.
Of course, depending on how carefully anyone was watching, the psionic attack did have another effect, albeit a subtle one... the fireshadow cast by the big tanker changed slightly for a moment, writhing and twisting far in excess of what the dancing flames should cause. Then it went quiescent once more, a normal shadow.
Then he reached down to help the Blaster who had been drained by the idiot cyborg's attack back to her feet. "To be refraining from doing that again, please. Interrupting rude." he told Egregore, his tone one of little more than mild reproof.
He turned back to the soldiers, offering a precisely formal bow in a decidedly Oiental fashion- more specifically, one popular in Chinese Imperial courts more than a thousand years prior. Then he turned and offered a somewhat shallower bow to Egregore. "From Primal Earth, true. Flashpoint Zeo to allies." a pause. "Rarely called anything by enemies. Maybe "Ouch", or "IT BURNS!"."
The tanker kept a wary yellow eye on Egregore, nodding briefly to Isabel as she regained her feet. At the moment, though, the cyborg was the most immediate danger, due to his apparent instability. Flashpoint snorted briefly to himself at the irony of himself thinking that about someone else. -
Another possibility (aside from just going 'screw physics' and saying they manipulate kinetic energy
) is time manipulation- speeding people up or slowing them down by mucking about with local time... although I'm not sure how it would deal with things like Increased Density and whatever the superjump power is >.>
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((Hrm... guess I should probably mention this; anything Flashpoint Zeo says, any humans who hear it, hear it in their own native tongue- there are one or two exceptions to the 'humans only' rule, but they're not likely to turn up in this particular situation. Likewise, he understands all human languages. And no, it's not psionic in nature- it's actually nothing more than a side effect of the same thing that causes his strange, stilted speech pattern... and his flame powers, for that matter.
Oh- also, Flashpoint doesn't literally become a comet when speeding, it just looks that way- a huge ball of flame zooming around like that?))
"Not what. Who." the big tanker corrected blandly. "And not devil, although possibly related. Or maybe minor god of some sort." he added as a thoughtful aside. He remained firmly planted in place, not deigning to move, even with the amount of weaponry being waved about.
After a beat, he said "Request guns be pointed downwards. Particular model looks difficult for proctologist to remove." Another lull. Careful observation would show that, despite the fact that he was wreathed from head to foot in flame, and standing in shallow water, the water neither dimmed the flame nor began to boil. Either the fire was an illusion, or there was something odd about it.
After a pause that was just long enough for others to think he was finished, but not quite long enough to let anyone get a word in edgewise, Flashpoint Zeo added "And last seen, Reichsmann popsicle somewhere underneath thousands of tons of rubble. Unlikely to rule much."