TeChameleon

((you did, although how would a Short Circuit stop an arrow? Extreme heat tends to demagnetize things... besides, I'm not going to be the one that says whether or not my attack hits or not >.&gt)

Target Lad grabbed Shin's downstriking arms at the wrist, using the momentum from that, the psychic shockwaves, and his own flight powers to hurl himself down the hallway, well clear of the whirling melee. A neat flip in the air, and his bow was out and pointing at the other combatants. The boy's face was a study in stillness as he fought to keep back a wince at the throbbing in his head and the various other little aches and pains he had accumulated.

Aye, an' I show any weakness around these sodding vultures, an' they'll all turn on me. No' goin' t'happen. he thought grimly. He let fly, a trio of fiery streaks briefly describing pretenatural lines in the air connecting him and his targets.

A short while later, Target Lad, Energon X, and K'ssn'dreh were sprawled about in the employee lounge at City Hall (well, E-X and his nephew were sprawled... K'ssn'dreh was standing kind of stiffly in a corner), watching the news with some interest (for whatever reason, the Cable still worked). The 'top story' had changed from Rularuu building his palace where City Hall used to be, to Lanaru the Mad rampaging through Independence Port, surrounded by a mighty cloud of Storm Elementals. The Blaster greeted the Dark Watcher cheerfully as he teleported in, his face thunderous. "Welcome back. Things went well, I take it?" The trenchcoated teleporter glared at him for a moment, then shook his head. "K'ssn'dreh is proving to be aptly named. The War Lineage didn't even pretend to go along with the plan, instead simply attacking us outright. We managed to fight them off, and went ahead using only the Traditionalist Mentalists."

A pause, and a heavy sigh. "Things seemed to be going fine, at first... then, the instant we opened the cross-dimensional portal, Lanaru went insane." Another pause. "More insane." the Watcher corrected himself. "Our troops were decimated- we barely got out alive when he started pulling in Storm Elementals. We were forced to retreat, and Lanaru seized control of the portal." The Dark Watcher shook his head. "Our Rikti allies have retreated back to their homeworld as fast as they can portal; they said something about 'coming onslaught: preparations for'." he finished sourly.

This litany of doom was interrupted by a whoop of laughter from Target Lad. On the television screen, Lanaru had just vanished in a column of spray half a mile high, a miniature tsunami dousing his retinue of elementals in a cloud of steam and sparks. The mad aspect surfaced, fighting wildly with a maelstrom of tentacles. "Huh. What do you know? Looks as though Lusca doesn't like him either. Only problem is, those elementals are as big a threat as he is, if not biggerrrrr..." the synthesized voice trailed off as the camera shifted jerkily, live audio feed tinny and far off. "Hold on... something's coming in..." the announcer intoned breathlessly. A faint cry that Energon X could have sworn sounded like "Smoooooorrrrrg Niiiiiiight..." sounded from high above, and a cloud of darkly-glowing squid forms spiralled out of the sky.

The violently purple cloud of Storm Elementals took on a sharply darker hue for a moment, then started to thin visibly. In the lounge, to Energon X' dark delight, Target Lad demanded "Wha' kind o' daft battle cry is 'smorg night', anyhow?" The older blaster's synthesized voice was laced with black humour as he explained "Warshades eat energy. Storm Elementals are energy. You do the math. Looks like Shadowstar is still firmly on top of things, anyways... I'm pretty sure that was her yelling."

"Hmm... so, not the unmitigated disaster it first appeared, at least for the moment." Lady Grey commented from right behind Target Lad's ear. The little archer jumped so violently that he dropped his bow, but contented himself with glaring when the Vanguard Leader merely raised an eyebrow at him. "Still, we need to find some way to reunite Lanaru with the other aspects; that should stun them long enough for Portal Corps dimensional engines to shunt them back here." "Sounds t'me like y'just want t'make clappin' the great sod back t'gether as someone else' problem while y'sit around and talk in circles." Target Lad grumbled, still peeved at being startled. Energon X froze for a moment, staring at the younger Blaster. "Somebody else' problem... back together... circles... Danny, I do believe you've just given me an idea. Azuria is still around here someplace, right? I've got a few history questions... and then, methinks, it's time for a Xanatos Gambit."

Lady Grey started to nod, then paused. "Xanatos..? But he was never incarnated..." she murmured, more to herself than anyone in the room. Energon X just shook his head. "Figure of speech, milady. In whatever case, could you recall Sergeant Allerdyced and Flashpoint Zeo for me? Time... is a-wasting."

... good grief, Megajoule.

I'm going to have a hard time looking at Paragon the same way again, now that you've populated the one in my head with all manner of genius locii... even if you did give two of my favourite zones (Steel Canyon and Founder's Falls) kind of lame ones :/

Energon X thought for a moment, then gave a tired chuckle. "You think we're just going to march in there, grab Lanaru by the scruff of the neck and haul him off to Atlas Park? Even with the Freedom Phalanx and all the other heroes here, I don't think we have enough firepower to pull that off... and even if we did, I'm not sure dragging him up to the Ravager and trying to stuff his unconscious body into Rularuu's earhole would work all that well." Target Lad made an odd noise, midway between an indignant snort at being made fun of and a snicker at the weird mental image that his uncle had succesfully conjured up.

"Oddly enough, that was one of the first things dear Marcus suggested." Lady Grey commented offhandedly. "Unfortunately, it's unlikely to be that simple." the Dark Watcher commented from directly behind Energon X' left ear. The Blaster, already keyed up from the ongoing tension, ended up thirty yards down the hallway, one glowing fist levelled at the trench-coated teleporter. After a second of fighting to get his internal energies back under control, E-X snapped "You people just live for that sort of thing, don't you?" calming a bit, he waved a gauntleted hand at Lady Grey. "And yes, I'm sure you don't have any idea what I'm talking about. Bah."

The Dark Watcher shrugged very faintly, calmly ignoring the fact that not only was Energon X drawing a bead on him, but Target Lad was airborne with an arrow nocked, and K'ssn'dreh had her hands to her temples, obviously readying a psychic attack. "If you're finished?" he asked acidly, and with what Energon X would swear was a slight smirk in his voice. "Unfortunately, mere touch is unlikely to reintegrate one of Rularuu's aspects into the gestalt, particularly an aspect as unwelcome as Lanaru the Mad. And no, high-speed impact won't work either." the Watcher continued, holding up a finger to forestall Target Lad's question. When the little archer subsided, grumbling to himself, the Dark Watcher continued. "We do, however, have one idea; the Rikti hive-mind should theoretically have enough power to force the two together, once they're in the same dimension."

Energon X nodded slowly (while Target Lad grumbled to himself from floor level), but K'ssn'dreh shook her head flatly. "Function: impossible. Restructurists: untrusting: war: consumed by. Traditionalists: power: will: lacking: alone." Both blasters glanced sidelong at her, but Lady Grey made a tutting noise and forestalled any further comment. "Now, dear- I know why you feel that way, but the will of the Traditionalists just might surprise you. Besides, at the moment, it's the best plan we have. Diplomats and a handful of Vanguard representatives are already meeting with Traditionalist representatives; we should have the Mentalists and Priests we need to spearhead the psionic assault within the hour. In the meantime, Levantaera, Borea, Serpent Drummer, and Gaussian have taken a unit to corral Lanaru and prep him for transit." Lady Grey paused, and glanced across at Energon X. "Hush, darling... you've done more than enough to help with this little crisis; I've already put you and your team's names up for at least five medals apiece... although you won't be able to show anyone the second and fifth ones for about forty years, if they're awarded..." She trailed off, looking thoughtful, then jumped slightly, responding to an unheard summons. "Ah, there's the call I've been waiting for." She waved a hand. "Come along, Devon- we must be going."

With that, the two Vanguard leaders vanished in a swirl of darkness. Energon X, K'ssn'dreh and Target Lad exchanged glances, eyes blazing with purple energy meeting inscrutable alien black pits and irritable blue teenaged eyes. Target Lad spoke for them all- "I've got a bad feeling about this..."

[ QUOTE ]
(OoC: He's right... What do we do?)

[/ QUOTE ]
((shrug and carry on, since nobody's been bothered by it for the last 60+ pages?))

*drops planet down black hole*

And that's for stealing my gimmick!

[ QUOTE ]
Poor Henchie...

[/ QUOTE ]
Oh... don't worry. Henchie will always find a way to muddle through. There's a certain indestructability to him, after all (and he's about to become a VEAT ).

((And thus endeth the story of our hapless Henchie... for now. ))

Day 71:
11:05 AM
Injuries from being run over by minivan (again) surprisingly minimal; may be becoming adjusted to tire tracks over face. Have broken into Amazing house once again (actually, have used spare key. Am uncertain as to why spare key has label with my name, but no time to consider that now)

11:06 AM
Have just discovered that is unwise to startle a woman hefting 20-pound frozen turkey with one hand. Believe foot may be broken.

11:07 AM
Note to self: wait until wife of Captain Amazing has finished putting away groceries before attempting her life again. Have been bludgeoned into submission by two bagfuls of canned vegetables. Wonder vaguely deliriously how many feat points dual-wielding ability cost Mrs. Amazing as consciousness slips away.

12:10 PM
Familiar sensation of being hefted and thrown. Wave to George on way by. Cause nasty divot on landing... too much topspin, maybe? Captain Amazing should watch that; groundskeepers huffy when greens chewed up.

12:18 PM
Mediporter is slow, as usual. Have managed to regain feet, and still have knife. Mrs. Amazing watching me through exit hole. Rear back and throw knife, fall over. Twist violently to attempt to see final moments of wife of Captain Amazing. Am unsure as to how will manage to stuff her in fridge in this state, but one step at a time.

12:20 PM
Still staring blankly. Mrs. Amazing caught knife with one hand and tossed it aside. This could make killing difficult, as am now weaponless.

12:25 PM
Mediporter finally kicks in. Slowness becoming irritating. Wait... am not in infirmary...

12:30 PM
Eyes finally clearing; am in Dr. McDemon's 'throneroom'. Am not so sure about head... Chief Henchie Reuben muttering something about self 'costing him fifty bucks... no way I thought even you'd be stupid enough to go after her again!' while Doctor McDemon slapped him and ordered him to 'pay up!'. Not certain about bound, hooded man(?) in chair in middle of room... and could have sworn Doctor McDemon only had budget for six henchmen; are seven in room, counting self.

12:31 PM
Doctor McDemon has noticed that self's eyes are now focussing, and has dragged self to feet, nodding to Chief Henchie Reuben. Hood removed from bound man; is middle-aged, rather sharply dressed, and appears to have a dead mole attached to head. Chief Henchie Reuben orders "C'mon, Donnie boy." and prods captive with gun. "Just say the line and you're free to go. We've been over this." Captive sighs, squares shoulders and stares me in the eye. Wait... dead mole... nice suit... Donnie? Dr. McDemon has kidnapped Donald Trump?!? Am genuinely impressed; is villainy of first order. Focus once more; message from Trump doubtless vital.

Trump finally speaks. "You're Fired."

Stare at him. Stare at Chief Henchie Reuben. Stare at Dr. McDemon. Dr. McDemon laughing insanely for some reason; detatched part of mind rates it at 9.8... believe that to be personal best for boss... no... ex-boss. Cannot argue with The Donald, after all. Chief Henchie Reuben untying Trump, while shaking head. Can just barely hear mumble of "Still can't believe we kidnapped Donald-[censored]-Trump, just to give this idiot his walking papers... think the boss is finally losing it."

1:00 PM
Have packed things. Tearful farewells all around; nurse has given self bonesaw along with note saying "I haven't forgotten; I'm still coming for you.", while Chief Henchie Reuben has told self to hurry up and get out, as Dr. McDemon laughs uncontrollably whenever he sees self, and is starting to seem rather unhinged, even by mad scientist standards. Shrug, head out. Donald Trump still waiting out front; ask him for ride. This earns rather strange, frozen look. Wait for response for a while, get chased off by Trump security when they arrive.

2:30 PM
Have cashed in severance package; box contained sufficient high explosive to turn St. Martial into glowing crater. Got good price for it on Black Market once detonator was deactivated and re-connected properly.

3:00 PM
Heard from old buddy Jenkins that Arachnos recruiting; am fond of armour design, may look into.

5:00 PM
Have been out drinking with Longbow Ballista for past couple of hours. He assures self that joining Arachnos is a great idea. Strange. Thought Longbow and Arachnos got along poorly. Leave bar, heading for recruiting office. Hear Ballista calling in as door closes- "Operation succesful, sir. It's only a matter of time before Arachnos collapses, now." Decide to keep information in mind- Lord Recluse pays well for news of Longbow plots against him.

[ QUOTE ]
Yeah, I hope they fixed them, but it doesn't alter the fact that Scrappers got the short end of the stick for a LONG time in this game.

[/ QUOTE ]
... I started off in the last days of i2. Far as I remember, the Six-Second Rule was still extant back in those heady days, and it wasn't uncommon to see Scrappers discussing how to solo various (pre-EB patch) AVs.

So... 'long' time being, what, a couple of issues, at most?

[ QUOTE ]
Great story! Kinda curious as to what would happen if he actually caught Mrs. Amazing. Probably die of hart failure or something.

[/ QUOTE ]
((Actually, if you check the last story post, he did catch her. She broke his arm in multiple places, punctured his foot with her high heel, and probably would have done worse if Captain Amazing hadn't managed to get him away and toss him through the wall. Mrs. Amazing can be quite dangerous ))

((Hmm... for those of you following this diary, my next posting in it will probably be the last one, at least for a while- I'll try to bring some kind of closure to it, of course, but... yeesh, writing comedy is harder than it looks >.O))

Day 62:
11:45 PM
Sent to retrieve vital package for Dr. McDemon by chief henchie Reuben. Proud; sign of great trust to be given so important a task.

3:35 PM
Somewhat confused... must be in wrong base. Everything empty, even equipment gone. Nothing but dust and cobwebs. Perhaps at wrong address?

4:00 PM
Tired of wandering around, use emergency recall beacon to teleport back to base. Hand Dr. McDemon his package, beaming. Hear violent argument between boss and Reuben as to who was supposed to reset teleporter to eliminate 'his' code. Feel sorry for whoever they're discussing, go get dinner. Everyone surprised to see me.

Day 63:
3:15 PM
Decide to try new tactic; going to kidnap the Amazing small children and hold them hostage against wife. Have sent note to this effect; believe will heighten terror when inevitability of situation strikes home.

5:00 PM
Wait until Captain Amazing and wife pull out in minivan, apparently leaving children alone. Puzzling, but decide to go ahead with plan.

7:30 PM
Have fed toddler and put it to bed, and am playing blocks on floor with slightly larger small child when Captain Amazing and wife return. Slightly larger small child too far away to conveniently grab and hold as human shield. Am probably screwed.

5:05 PM
Wife has pecked me on cheek and handed me $20 bill, thanking me. Confusion reigning surpreme, but not about to turn down kiss or money. Both rare at current point in life. Captain Amazing starts to lift self, but wife stops him, goes to retrieve toddler, "Just in case." Toddler, of course, fine. Set on floor for moment to play with older sibling.

5:10 PM
Best chance seen and seized; made grab for wife with knife drawn once smaller small child was out of way. Was disarmed, both figuratively and very nearly literally. Shoulder dislocated, wrist broken, collarbone broken, foot now has hole from six-inch spike heel, and believe nose mashed pretty much flat from headbutt. Captain Amazing throwing self through wall almost relief. Captain Amazing actually apologized for not throwing self through wall 'soon enough'. Not following meaning. Wave to George on way by.

Day 71:
5:00 AM
Wake very perturbed from bizarre nightmare in which I have body of Wile E. Coyote and wife of Captain Amazing has body of Road Runner. Strangely unsettling for no obvious reason.

7:00 AM
Door to room still locked. Sound of much activity outside, reason unclear. Shrug, head out secret passage (unsure why supervillain lairs always have secret passage, but is always one there).

9:45 AM
Amazing household empty. Forgot about schooling of slightly larger small child. Settle into hidden position across street from house.

11:00 AM
Wife of Captain Amazing finally returns home with minivan full of groceries. Got clear view of groceries when was backed over by minivan maneuvering into driveway. May need new plan.

((Hey Yosef? Danny/Target Lad's a modestly-athletic, small-for-his-age-13-year-old. It's not likely that he'd dislocate Abram's jaw with his blow- the only real damage comes from his fairly potent electrical powers))

Target Lad doubled over as his precognition treated him to a brief preview of his skull being crushed by Ry's blow. This, in turn, caused Ry's fist to skate off Target Lad's electrical armour, turning the skullpunch into a solid cuff upside the head and adding some genuine pain to accompany the prescient spike of agony (and the thumping headache the repeated psychic shockwaves were causing).

Of course, the kid with the bow doubling over meant that the imp that had been lunging for his face went sailing over his head and straight into Ry's face... and the one that had been jumping for Danny's chest ended up cradled like a baby, at least briefly.

The little archer paused from shaking his head, trying to clear the ringing in his ears, and made a startled noise as the presence of the imp registered. Then a nasty smile skittered across his face, and he hunched tighter, clamping the squirming not-quite-creature tight and beginning to glow a brilliant shade of blue.

Arcs of electrical power grounded themselves all around the young Blaster, a rippling cascade of lightning as the imp writhed in his shocking grasp, caged on all sides by roaring torrents of electricity and stabbed through with raw power. Satisfied that it had been dealt with, Target Lad whirled to face the new aggressor... assuming he hadn't gotten himself good and zapped when TL went all Zeus on the imp, anyways.

Another suggestion is... pick a side for your WWII vet. Was he fighting for the Axis or the Allies? German, Japanese, Russian, American, British, or one of the lesser known fronts? Could've been just about any European nationality, most South-East Asian nationalities... in fact, if he saw active duty, he could've been from just about any country on the planet except for... I think most South American nations, Swiss, maybe Southern Africa, and possibly a few of the Baltic states. 'WWII Vet' covers a lot of ground- it was called "World" War II for a reason, after all.

Once you've picked a nationality, a name will probably come more easily; by the sound of him, your mercenary genius would likely use his own name (or an appropriate-sounding 'normal' pseudonym), and be far too arrogant to use a nom de guerre of the sillier, super-villain-esque type.

I find it kind of funny that Shane Hensley has been a supervillain before he came to City of Villains... in the webcomic Gaming Guardians, he's described as 'the most evil game designer on Earth', ruling over his own pocket dimension of the Deadlands.

[ QUOTE ]
According to these figures, if 15 people can put out 3 Issues a year, then 27 people can put out 12 Issues. Sah-weet.

[/ QUOTE ]
*smacks Ironik with a rolled-up newspaper*

Bad Ironik! Stop scaring the devs!

[ QUOTE ]
/e JamesEarlJones "Impressive." /JamesEarlJones

[/ QUOTE ]
Fixed that for you

... y'know, BaB, I'm kind of jealous.

I've always wanted a minion.

((wait... Ravenick? What happened to Kirae?))

*raises a glass*

A toast to our devs! May they always remain as crazy as they are... nearly as insane as we, the fans!

Slainte!

Target Lad flipped onto his feet and then grabbed his head, a wave of nausea assaulting him. War was nowhere to be seen, although noises down the corridor hinted at the Brute's location... at least, until another detonation of psionic energy rattled the hallway. Target Lad clutched his head again and gave an irritated growl (of which the pitch changed partway through, which didn't improve his mood).

A second later, Abram felt a tap on his shoulder. "'Scuse me." a youthful voice interjected. "But could y'stop wi' th' bloody 'look-at-m'-great-brain' booms, y'daft sod? Y're givin' me a devil o' a headache." The words were punctuated by Target Lad's electric-glowing fist being swung in a short, sharp arc that, if all went well, would terminate on the point of Abram's chin and rattle his brains nicely, wreaking havoc with the Corruptroller's synapses as unfettered electricity coursed through the man's head.

Day 54:
Time Unknown
Base larger than expected. Either that or am lacking proper motivation to crawl fast.

Much, much later
Base significantly larger than expected. Dr. McDemon must be getting excellent deal on rent. Think have found exit.

Day 56:
10:30 AM
Came up in some woman's kitchen in St. Martial. Appears to be female-only elective in schools concerning self-defense with frying pan. Ow.

10:45 AM
Am eventually teleported back to base infirmary. Must request tune-up of teleporter; takes far too long to kick in. Nurse still there, grinning and holding bonesaw. Scream like little girl and run.

5:20 PM
Feeling somewhat better; two good meals and a quiet smoke or twelve have done much to calm nerves. Return to base, get shouted at for wasting time again. Am sent to clean shark-bits out of deathtrap and find way to keep them from getting in the gears.

Day 57:
7:00 AM
Get chance to sit and read paper; relaxing morning for a change. Pick up yesterday's paper first, by mistake- notice a Fortunata has started advice column along with usual horoscopes. Glance at personal horoscope- "Beware of women with frying pans". Would have been useful to know yesterday. Pick up today's paper, check advice column- Fortunata going by name "Dear Stabby". Letter catches eye- "Dear Stabby:
I am a hard-working Mastermind, unfortunately saddled with a completely incompetent minion whose only saving graces are being injury-resistant and handy at fixing the classically elegant, but hard-worn, deathtraps that came with my lair. Thus far he has utterly failed to get himself killed accidentally, even as he hopelessly bungles his assigned tasks. What should I do?

Signed,
The Evilust Scots Demon"
Chuckle at letter; glad to be working for a caring boss like Dr. Evilus McDemon, rather than nut like in letter. Consider writing Dear Stabby myself, but decide against- high-ranking woman in viciously cutthroat organization with psychic talents, formidable fighting skills, and vast resources unlikely to be able to help.

8:00 AM
Satellite surveillance reveals that wife of Captain Amazing is gardening; good; has been separated from improvised(?) weaponry.

2:45 PM
Have returned to base to have rake removed from ear. Am mildly surprised- had not realized trowel could be inserted in its entirety into left nostril. Do not wish to approach nurse, but trowel is beginning to itch.

3:20 PM
Success! Trowel and rake still in place, but have managed to abscond with dreaded bonesaw. Can now face nurse with no fear. Well... less fear.

3:30 PM
Bonesaw prominently on display on counter in infirmary upon return. Steal it as well and run, ignoring outraged yell.

3:50 PM
Bonesaw better hidden this time- tossed down old elevator shaft. Return to infirmary, bonesaw once again on counter. Repeat grab-and-run. Bound to work once have found proper hiding place.

4:00 PM
Got smart- tossed bonesaw into positron stream in base' matter/antimatter impacter. Bonesaw now wisp of greasy smoke. Return to infirmary. Bonesaw still there. Scream in frustration, grab and run.

4:01 PM
Peek back into infirmary once is clear nurse not in pursuit. Observe nurse opening cupboard, removing one of dozens of bonesaws contained within, and placing on counter. Contemplate torching infirmary. Mental image of angry (smiling?) nurse pursuing me with flaming bonesaw while on fire causes me to discard idea. Give up and return to have trowel and rake extracted. Nurse does not offer anesthetic. Ow.

4:05 PM
Gardening implements have been removed, bleeding staunched, and antiseptic applied. Sometime during this process, have been strapped to the table. Out comes the bonesaw. Uh-oh.

4:10 PM
Dr. McDemon grabs self from behind, demands to know why am sprinting through base dragging table. Point to nurse with bonesaw in pursuit. Dr. McDemon hurdles table and sprints down corridor. An impressive feat, given that he appears to have broken sixty miles per hour without the aid of superspeed. Return attention to own predicament.

Day 58:
9:40 AM
Finally managed to extricate self from table using one of cached bonesaws from earlier. Noise attracted nurse, but managed to escape. Kept bonesaw. Have idea.

12:25 PM
Break into Amazing household once more, menace Mrs. Amazing with bonesaw. She is feeding smaller of two small children, and calmly lobs mashed peas into my eyes. Unnoticed (at first) mashed peas on floor nearly cause self-unmanning with bonesaw when slipped on. Relinquish bonesaw when wrist stomped on. Why Mrs. Amazing feeding baby while wearing stiletto heels unclear. Very painful, though.

12:30 PM
Ah. Mrs. Amazing dressed up to go out to lunch with Captain Amazing. Wave to George on way by. Captain Amazing's golf game good; land in almost exactly same place every time. Am starting to leave visible self-shaped crater. Hope does not get Captain Amazing in trouble with neighbourhood association.

5:00 PM
Finally manage to get back to base; suggest new idea. Dr. McDemon adamant against using car (minivan) bomb; wife must be stuffed into fridge, mostly intact, or boss will lose 'face' amongst fellow-supervillains. Shrug, question why boss has not simply killed her himself. This earns unnervingly long stare.

5:15 PM
Dr. McDemon finally breaks stare, exploding into maniacal cackling. A solid 9.6 or better; easy to see why he is boss.

6:00 PM
Dr. McDemon has subsided at last, laughter trailing off into mumbling about 'show you my scars, someday'. Nod approvingly; working for genuine mad Doctor good for henchman-resume. Suggest boss change his name to "Mad Dr. McDemon". This earns another frighteningly unwavering stare.

Day 60:
4:00 AM
Preparations complete. Killsat has been re-orbited without help from self. Resist urge to sulk; chief-henchie Reuben screamed nonsense about "Cut off your arms at the neck if you even think about touching this!" before locking me in basement. Managed to escape basement, and have stolen targetting laser.

6:45 AM
Decoy targetting laser has blown up in pants pocket. Ow. Laying in Amazing driveway with pants on fire where explosion threw me; get run over by minivan again. Smaller of two small children in window watching and clapping. Developing phobia of toddler applause. May need new plan.

((Ravenick- declaring that a punch landed, without giving the person who is controlling the character you're taking a swing at a chance to say whether or not it's been dodged, is considered 'god-moding'- rather poor form, all-in-all. It's not the strength of the punch, necessarily, but rather that you're assuming control of War to allow your character to smash his face in))

Target Lad blinked, startled, as War did exactly what the little archer had expected him not to do- simply stood there and took the majority of the arrowstorm. Granted, more than a few simply rattled off armour plate or were knocked away, but enough sank in that Target Lad was already starting to wonder how the big armoured bladeswinger wasn't bleeding to death, or at least immobilized. Then War started after him.

Target Lad cursed under his breath... around this point, Kirae yelled something, but the archer ignored her as being largely irrelevant. Then a psychic shockwave rattled the hallway, fragments of pink psi-energy skittering across the archer's enhanced vision, and the part of Target Lad's brain that wasn't focussed on the oncoming War bumped Abram up from "Strangely dressed Civilian" to "Combatant, possible threat". Danny himself was still far enough back from Abram (and airborne) that the upheaval of the ground didn't do much beyond bring Abram to his attention.

War chose that moment to lunge, and Danny barely had time to bring his bow around. A frozen instant; the Talsorian-headed arrow he had just loosed lending an eerie green glow to the scene. Danny's prescience stretched the moment out, and he was aware enough to realize that if War's movement hadn't been made a little clumsy by the arrows stuck into him, things would have gone badly for the little archer.

As it was, he had (barely) managed to avoid one blade, arching violently back as the blade hissed just above his ribs, nearly cutting Danny's t-shirt right off his skinny frame, a huge slash from just below the collar down to the base turning it into a sort of strange vest. The other blade had opened a long, shallow cut on his left leg, slicing straight through both his jeans and the light metal mesh he wore under his clothes to help channel his electric armour.

Time started again with a jerk, and Danny was smashed aside by War's shoulder without seeing what effect his energy-bladed arrow had had on War, if any, or what had happened to the armoured warrior when his metal (presumably) blade had taken the full brunt of the electrical energies Target Lad channeled around himself in an apparently futile attempt to reduce damage to his person.

Danny himself fetched up against the wall, upside-down, with his head spinning, and War well past him. He shook his head, trying to clear it, his dizziness preventing any serious attempts to defend himself for a few seconds.

Target Lad stared down the hallway as the gummy fug cleared, slowly. At least one fan had given out trying to clear the thick not-quite-fog, and was now making a sad little rattling noise as it twitched against the massed globs of... whatever it was that had been in Pestilence' grenade.

From what he could see the two almost-fetal figures (Abram and Kirae) were probably not dangerous, at least not right now. He ignored Kirae's whimpering for the moment, his mind ticking like a ballistics computer; the big guy with the blades was getting up, and Danny was pretty sure that War had taken a swing at him on his way by, tagging him as hostile... and, judging by those curved blades and the armour, dangerous as hell.

His careful calculations finished with the help of his short-term precognition, Target Lad drew back the giant fistful of arrows he had been prepping and let fly. Painful pointiness filled the hallway, a perfect storm of razor-tipped arrows all converging on War- some directly, a few ricocheting off walls, sacrificing some speed in an attempt to bypass War's blades, and at least one particularly tricky triple-bank shot (which Target Lad was quite proud of) coming at War from behind, aimed squarely at his left buttock.

All shots were carefully aimed to disable, not kill, but if War simply took the Rain of Impervium-headed Arrows, he was going to be in considerable pain, and find his mobility sharply limited by all the pointy sticks hanging out of his muscles.