TheSoviet

"Alright, let's be hasty, boys, hasty!" Vasquez grinned as he finally turned the last corner for the Board Room, adjusting his SWAT armor and waiting at the door for his guards to arrive.

He poked his head in. "I'm here, sir, making sure my men get up alright."

"We's bein' pursoo'd!" Reikoff exclaimed as the group dove into seperate portions of the fort.

Marcus suddenly surfaced. "Artilurree, fire!"

And water balloons sailed out at the naiad.

Reikoff and the others shot off for the playground, as Prikker and Snikker spontaneously began to wrestle.

Marcus ran to the side and grabbed something first...

"Ah, yeah!" He clapped his hands. "Okay, Fred, I'm keeping the two-way on in case anything breaks down. Remember, we're on channel seven 'cause of the security threat."

And with that, he clipped on his personal radio and set off for the meeting.

"We gonna get dem owtside!" Reikoff grinned in an excited whisper.

"Me already have aygunts owt dere fillin' up water bawoons! We gonna get dem!"

---

The two snickering boys wearing black finished the last water baloon and were gone from the nursery as quickly as they came.

---

"Hoowah!" Prikker thumped his chest, ready to get back at the mean dog.

((Prikker and Snikker...They're...No different. This tells me something...))

"Uh oh..." Marcus sighed. Having fought enough metahumans to know this, he decided it would be best to dispose of Hal quickly.

And so he flipped out frag grenades.

Ten of them. Connected by one long pin and string.

"So long, meta-[censored]!" He sang as he whipped the grenades at Hallucinogen...

(( ))

"HOOWAH!" The Trolls exclaimed as they shot through the tunnel in the superjump. Reikoff skimmed along lazily with Toy.

((Bloody frickin' crap. I was gonna be security...But I might just be captain, heheh.))

Omaro Vasquez was late.

"Damndamndamndamndamn..." He muttered to himself as he wheeled his truck into the employee parking lot, stepping out and practically sprinting for the main door.

The guards at the front let him in...

As he was security captain.

Well armed and armored, and a tactical man at heart, Omaro was an ex-Angel of Death Mecernary, and he knew his way around perimeter security. It was a short leap into the corporate security sector, and he had joined Tharomar too long ago for him to remember.

Swiping several keys and making his way through several crowded offices with apologies and nods, he finally arrived at his station - a kiosk labelled "Security Booth E4." Getting inside, he examined himself quickly in the mirror:

A large, well muscled Latino, wearing what looked like SWAT armor and carrying a large rifle. In a world like the one he lived in, the Chief of Security had to bring along a few little friends to actually be a force. Tapping on his desk radio, he sighed.

"I'm sorry, I'm very sorry. I am late, men. Any activity?"

"Grr!" The entire group of Maltans and Trolls growled as the girls proclaimed superiority.

"Uki su lat gu ged klomp'd reel kwik me cee!" Prikker exclaimed, thumping his small chest.

"No, we set trap up and they get hurt'd and we laugh!" Marcus chimed in.

"No!!" Reikoff exclaimed.

"I make per'fek plan! Meet me latur an' we show them girls!"

((Ok, marking a spot in this thread. Posting my intro this afternoon.))

"Waaargh!" Prikker exclaimed suddenly, and Snikker only grunted.

"Me Sammy Weykoff!" Reikoff exclaimed. "Markus Markone. . ." The future-Family-Maltan-Smoker intoned, "My daddy in the moffya!"

"Ah'm Curtis!" The third boy exclaimed, adjusting his minitature stetson.

The last boy looked around, putting down his model helicoptor only for a second.

"My naym Craig."

Marcus backed off, shuddering at the many blasts and trying to get a good enough grip on his shotgun to load some dispersion pellets.

((Basically special anti-summon ammo.))

Prikker and Snikker plopped down with a thump, while the group of future card-carrying NRA boys sat down on the opposite side.

"Siwwi metahooman! You are owtclass'd!" Reikoff laughed, popping his popgun one more time.

Before he spied the snacks.

"Dis is owtraygus! If me wuz in charge, der'd be cookies fur ebrybody!"

This prompted a hoowah from both Trolls.

[ QUOTE ]
taking a quick look at the three boys who had just entered before leaving. Children made him nervous.

[/ QUOTE ]

((Damn straight!!))

"Bang!" Reikoff exclaimed, proceeding to fire a cap at Schizo's head.

((OOH! One more...))

"Heeeey!" Came a squeal, and a fourth boy charged in the door, holding a toy helicoptor in his hands.

"Christ!" Marcus cursed, grabbing his ears.

Thinking on his feet (literally,) the engineer kicked his boot, causing a mean-looking pistol to pop out of the top.

He fired the mini-sapstick in a wide arc in front of him.

Reikoff tuned his suit to Toy's gravity boosters and jumped into the sky, awaiting flight.

Prikker and Snikker crouched low for a superjump.

Something hit the door with a thump right as it closed. Opening it would reveal five boys:

One was holding an old-style coke glass bottle with 'XXX' duct taped over it. Another was blowing bubbles through a plastic pipe.

The third of the three...human..boys was holding two popguns and firing them in the air quickly

And then there were two Trolls.

One, the one who had hit his head, was on his back crying while his brother laughed heartily at his misfortune.

The popgunner held a note.

"Bi the ordur of me and curtis and marcus and thees two funny green guys you hafta take car of us now!"

Marcus snarled as the light slammed into his armor, but even as he clutched a badly hit shoulder he threw down a heavy chaingun turret that filled the sky with lead.

((Yeah, I'm really lost.))

Marcus flicked a switch and jerked his head, and suddenly his mask hissed with every breath, protecting him moderately from the radiation.

He swung out his SPAS-12 and let fly a cloud of buckshot at Hallucinogen.

((Hurmm, I seem lost here too.))

"Here we GO!" Marcus roared as He dropped like a brick, dodging the light blasts skillfully and coming back with a phosphorus grenade that should reveal Hal for all to see...

Marcus approached them, smoking a large cigar and carring his shotgun.

"'Sup kid. Looks like we're compadres."