welshman_EU

Building partially collapses

Independendence Port

News is coming in this evening that the Marchmount Building in Bell Point has partially collapsed after a rovot, believed to be a Zeus titan, was propelled out of the building at speed. The Titan hit the water and no-one was hurt. PPD are investigating.

I can't do the basics (draw) but I'm an expert at messing around(!)

My thank good Darth.

I used the ones you sent and messed about with fireworks:-

Ok. Great Britain is the combined countries of Wales, England and Scotland, The full given title is the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Ireland is part of the British Isles (but I know why you want Britain and Ireland) but the Isles also includes the Channel island states and the Isle of Man

Oh, and there are only 46 states in the U.S. as Kentucky, Virginia, Massachusettes, and Pennsylvania are all commonwealths - as in, "Organised Political Communities", rather than States. No difference, though.

<Turns on the fan.>

Is it? Where's it say that?

Well done U.S.A. Blast, England got through(!) Mind you, with this world cup going through second may just mean England face Ghana in the next round, leaving the U.S. with Germany.

Couldn't think of a reason not to.

No worries about it. He looks good. Was just making sure it wasn't someone elses.

Looks good to me!

(Just checking, it is my Detective, yeah?(!)

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someone in the office is saying hmm after all that forum activity the miserable litlle heros aint even logging in

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Simple reason for that. I quote. "Account &lt;Account namehere&gt; is not allowed in this server. Reason:- Access to this server is restricted to internal testing. Thank you for your patience."

No problem. Paying work is more important. Tell us the book and boost its' sales!

Poink.

&lt;Pings thread.&gt;

The rear door to the Kings Row police station opened and I shoved the ‘gent’ through into the station with a gruff ‘Get in there!’ Mike Harding, 37. Spousal abuse and kidnapping. That’s what his docket would say when I got him to the front desk. The warrant had been out a week and I’d been one of the officers tearing up every pot-hole and link in the city. It wasn’t personal. It was my job. But, then, I’d seen the photos of what he’d done to her and it was only me taking it impersonal that was stopping me taking his head off and ending up in front of the beak myself. I’d found him at a friend’s place and I was pulling the friend in behind me too on an assisting an offender charge. I pushed him slightly too hard towards the front desk and he smacked his midriff into the desktop. “Mornin’ Sarge.” I said merrily. “Two for you. ‘Arding ‘here is wanted by Atlas division and this little hysgum, Thomas Martin, was ‘elping him hide. Got ‘im on an assistance charge.”
“Little what?” The sergeant asked.
“Gentleman.” I lied.
“Riight.” He commented. I wondered why it was he didn’t believe me. Probably ‘ad something to do with the length of my hair or the fact that, as one officer had delicately put it, my face looked like it had been repeatedly battered by a frying pan. “I’ll take them. The Captain wants to see you. Something’s up.”

I left them to the desk officers’ tender mercies and proceeded down to my senior officers’ office. Knocking on the door I waited for permission to enter. It came in a few seconds. “Mason.” Captain Francis said in greeting. He’s about forty, IC5 and slim built. Not always my favourite officer.
“What am I supposed to ‘ave done this time, sir?”
He looked confused. “Nothing. So far as I know. Anything you want to tell me? I shrugged and he continued. “We’ve got something of a situation going on in the Paragon National in High Park.” I waited. He elaborated. “Malta have taken hostages. They were hitting the bank when officer De klrk went past. He raised the alarm. Now we got Malta in the bank with the tellers and S.W.A.T. on the outside, waiting to go in. We have a stalemate.”
“They made any demands?”
“None as yet but you know how it’ll be. Helicopter. One hostage to travel with them. All the cash. That sort of thing. They’re not getting a helicopter. Budget doesn’t run to one. A bus, maybe. If they ask. I need you to take charge of the exterior situation whilst we wait for a ‘negotiator’. I bristled. Negotiator was often used as a codeword for ‘super type’. The Captain could see my reaction. “We go in, lives get lost. They go in, less lives get lost.” He looked at me. I was probably not on my best poker face manner in that moment. “Your mutation doesn’t mean you get to go in, Mason! You only heal a LITTLE faster than any other officer.” I nodded. I knew that. I also knew that, in Kings, we tended to get the capes that hadn’t begun to learn how to control their abilities yet.

Ten minutes later, I got out of my second hand 1988 M3 and spoke with the officer on the scene. His control of the exterior scene was good. He’d kept the area clear of onlookers and press. I could see seven snipers in position, ready to fire. The ground was secure – as much as it could be, I supposed. “What we got in there?” I asked Sergeant Kale. She looked me over. $40 trousers, a $10 dollar shirt, $30 jacket and $25 dollar shoes. I still looked like [censored], I supposed.
“Five Operatives, a cowboy and a sapper. No Titans. Five hostages, of which three are tellers.”
“That all?” I replied, a little surprised.
“We’re in a recession, Mason.” She replied. “We’ve put calls into Statesman and his buddies. No reply yet. What about your bunch?”
She was referring to the fact that, as I had to have a hero card as well as a police one, I’d been assigned as PPD liaison to the New Heroes Union. Hadn’t even considered ringing them… “Not answerin’,” I replied. “The one’s I trust ‘ave day jobs. Lights on or off over there?”
“Power’s down. Sprinklers are on internal.” She replied. “We’ll get a hostage in trade, then turn it on. One other fun little wrinkle.” She added. “Bank’s a family business.”
I considered. “Lot of bad blood between them recently. Malta are [censored] at the family for summat. Don’ want Kings caught in that.” I looked up at the other buildings. One of my hair brains was beginning to form. “Alarms silenced?” I asked. She nodded. “Right.” I decided, turning my back on her, “You take command here until I get back. I’m gonna go… check the perimeter.”
“Nothing crazy, Mason.”
“Like I’d do that.” I replied, doing up the jacket Serge had made to look old and battered. “Don’t do crazy.” I checked my revolver was loaded and my baton was safely affixed. Then I headed over to the right-hand side building.

Four minutes later, I was on the roof, some three storeys above the banks’ roof. It’d take skill to land a heli here and Malta knew it. No chopper was ever coming here. They had something else in mind. At least they didn’t have a Zeus or some other Titan with them. Eight foot tall and five foot wide. They’d never have got through the door. Ok, this is Paragon. PROBABLY don’t have a Titan. One good thing about being a Liaison? Sometimes it pays. One of the Union lot had given me a talisman of flight and I was about to – sort of – use it. Not summat I normally do. I took a running leap and powered the amulet some ten feet off the roof of the bank. Still went down hard but not hard enough to shatter my legs now. I rolled and wondered what the S.W.A.T. sniper was saying to Kale. Nothing complimentary, probably. I made my way to the roof door, silenced my radio before she called and opened the door. Good thing the alarms were still down. I entered quietly – well, as quiet as I could being six feet tall and 200lbs. There was no-one about in the passageway but it still had the stink of ozone. The sapper had been here not long back. Good. If I had to take one out first, I’d rather it be the one who could drain my strength like a tap. He could still be close. I drew my baton. The revolver was for when there was no point being quiet. I could hear a voice coming closer. Stairwell. Could I get in an office fast and quiet? I tried the only handle in reach. It didn’t move. Locked. I traversed backwards and found myself in the bathroom with an interior door at ninety degrees to the hallway one. Full mirrors in there, I checked. No place to hide. So I hid behind the first door and readied my truncheon. The footsteps were outside. I’d heard him saying about how he needed the John anyhow. He was coming in. I pushed myself far into the corner as he opened the door. I brought the truncheon down hard on the side of his neck even as he opened the inner door and saw me in the mirror. No time to turn, no time to react and, most preciously, no time to call anyone. Before he came back to his senses I had him stripped – in case of hidden keys, removed all weapons and weapons and had then handcuffed to a toilet. I looked him over. “You ‘ave the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You ‘ave the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights?” I didn’t wait for his answer. Toilet pipes were Iron. Should hold him. Wasn’t the sapper though. Was one of the Tac types. I took his weapon. Palm coded. [censored]. I found it a good hiding place and continued downstairs. I opened the door… and found a machine gun at the tip of my nose. The door opened. And his hand moved towards the radio. “Buais jyst yn chwilio 'r doiled” I told him in Welsh knowing he wouldn’t know I was telling him I was looking for the john. . Handy having a different first language. Handy in this case because the unexpected assault of vowels made his hand pause on the way to the radio. I pushed his gun away with one hand even as my other smashed into his throat. I got lucky. His finger hadn’t been on the trigger and he discovered he could hardly speak now. I repeated the Miranda rights and put my foot to his face. “’Ard to keep your control of a machine gun one ‘anded, isn’t it, aye?” I asked him. Didn’t have time to waist hiding this one so I tipped him to the other side of the banister and handcuffed him through the bars so he just dangled there. A quick check of his pockets located another pair of cuffs. Pink and fluffy but cuffs all the same. I gave him a glance of amusement before I tore a strip from his jacket and gagged him.

Something smashed through a window below and I knew whatever time I had had just started running down fast. A hero had arrived. Now they would start threatening the hostages. Sooner than I’d wanted. I leapt down the stairs a section at a time to bottom floor, hearing the distinctive ‘fwassh’ of fireballs. A fire blaster type which meant…. Yup, I thought as rain started to fall indoors, there go the sprinklers. Great. Now I had to move fast to save some half power idiot from getting himself killed.

I took a glimpse through the half mirrored glass and wished I’d been to this bank before. Not my regular. Didn’t know the layout from that side. The spandex was down, as I figured he’d be, the sapper keeping him out of strength whilst two others kicked the [censored] out of him. One other operative was keeping his weapon on the three hostages. I couldn’t see the slinger. Had to be somewhere an’, knowing my luck, it’d be one of them ab ast teleporters an’ he’d port out here and… They were really laying into that well meaning idiot. I wondered if he could still stand. Time to act, Mason. Open that door. I took out my revolver and opened the latch lock. Had time for one shot before they turned on me, I reckoned. Had to make it count.

Still I was behind ‘em and the door opened quietly enough that they failed to hear me above the sounds the purple and red clad fella was still making. I took a chance, put the gun away, drew my truncheon – baton sounds like something a girl twirls to me - and charged towards the fallen guy. I wasn’t picking him over the hostages because of his cape, far from it, I was picking him because it meant the guy guarding the hostages would have to turn on reflex to see what was going on. Natural. I managed to hit the sapper first, my left foot, trained by Martial artists in Aberystwyth (And twenty or so Dolph Lundgren films) impacting neatly on the small of his back a second before I swung a punch at one of the operatives. The operative rode the blow, such as it was ad fired back a tooth rattler with his rifle butt. Silly boy. A rifle’s for firing, not for clubbing, I thought stupidly before punching to his kidneys. The sapper was back up ad made aim but I managed to smack the gun slightly to my left with my truncheon and he hit his own man square between the eyes. One of the others was trying to bring his gun to bear now but was being hampered by the fact that someone had set his underwear ablaze. Give the costume kudos, he had fight. No brains but fight. I straight punched the sapper in the facemask and cursed my own stupidity. Then I pulled it off him and nutted him. This time he went down and a knee to the nose ensured he stayed there amongst the blood he’d spilt and the blood he’d just dropped. I turned around to check on the hostage holder. He was struggling with one of the hostages. The gun between them. Had to wait for my opening here. Couldn’t take him on now coz, if the gun went off, it could be the hostage who fell. Had to wait until… There! He’d thrown the hostage clear by a few feet. Before he could swing the gun around, my foot had him, just under the chin and he was flying into the wall behind. A fair of pink handcuffs later I was feeling it was all over.

That, of course, is when I found out I was right about that Gunslinger. With a rushing sound he appeared in the room and I felt his bullets slide across my back as I dove and rolled for cover. Sod, this guy was fast! He ejected the shells and fired again. I felt one slam into my arm and the hot feeling that accompanies getting shot followed close behind. I managed to raise my .38 and returned fire. First bullet missed its mark by a good five metres. The second took his hat off. Hey, never said I was good with a gun, did I? But one thing I am good at still is protecting others by putting me in the line of fire so, when he took aim at the guy on the floor, I took steps to put myself between him and harm. Both shots hit my chest with the impact of a trip-hammer. One thought went through my head as I felt the pain. Why didn’t I spend the extra to have Serge put Kevlar in the sleeves too? My gun spoke again as I felt the sounds of boots on stairs behind me. Here came SWAT, in response to the shots. The slinger dropped to one knee. I’d hit him in the left leg. I’d been aiming for the right one. I felt my arm. That’d take a few days to heal. I placed my weapon on the floor and dropped to my knees as half a dozen sights focussed on the balding gun slinger. One fired a precise shot and his teleporter went up in a fizz. His hands slowly raised and I looked over at the spandex kid. He was still moving. “Medic! We need a medic in here!” I looked at my watch. Twenty minutes gone.

If one of the hostages hadn’t been a media type known for her front-line reports, I might have been in worse trouble than I was with the captain. But, following her reports, I didn’t just get off without a yn cnoi i maes- or bollocking as the English would say, I got put in for promotion. For doing a spandex types job.

Now, after I finish my Spag Bol for one I’m going to go see if I can find out who murdered Mrs Joanne Vasquez. Y’know, real police work? Someday maybe I’d find out why Malta went to rob a Family bank. Probably not though.

I was fine with that.

Not Liefield quality?

Thank god for that. You can draw anatomy.

http://snipurl.com/cffir [grotesqueanatomy_blogspot_com]

You are your own quality. Nowt more, nowt less. And your own quality of drawing is far superior to most of us

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or i'm just a bit rubbish.


[/ QUOTE ]

Balls are you.

Pencils seem reminiscent of Alex Ross or Brian Bolland to my humble opinion. Not yet as good as but, then, they are two of the greatest and you're going to give them a run for their money if you ever go into the comic book business.

Mason had the radio in his car turned up. Not full blast but enough to blotch out the shriek as he pushed the car through the streets of King's Row. Traffic, he noted, was mostly against him. Joe cit fleeing trouble. He'd had to start travelling at 20kph as people were dashing all directions in the road. He put the siren on - not that it could really be heard, and put the light on the roof. THAT, at least, could be seen. He'd decided to survey the attack scenes and, as the Militia base was closest to the Precinct, their base was first. He checked the leaders. Crimson Archer and Amber Banshee. Old hands. He didn't check their reputations. Like cops or loathe them, they were gonna talk with him anyhow. They were the victims here.

Mason opened the glove compartment and plugged his ears. He was getting nowhere now, the crowds were too thick. He opened the car door with difficulty. This close, even the air seemed to be vibrating. He rose from the vehicle, locked it, and set off on the quarter mile run to the Militia base, notepad in pocket. He added property damage to the list. Not one window was intact. He hadn't seen damage like this since that incident in Llanidloes. He put that out of his mind and, a few minutes later, he could see the van in the distance and the bowman firing his weapon.

Detective Mason sat in his small office with his feet on the desk, watching the recording once again as others hurried around him, taking notes. "Mason!" His commanding officer appeared behind him. "What the hell are you doing? Several hero bases are attacked, fifteen people injured by a sonic attack, vandalism, gassing... and you're here with your feet up and eating a.... what the hell IS that?" He asked irritably.

Mason looked at the green and white container. "Pot Noodle." He replied. "As for why I'm still 'ere? As my old DCI back home used to say, 'Chwyrlïa heb chyfair ond leads at yn cerdded i mewn amgarnau am seventy filltiroedd awr'."
The lieutenant looked furious. "What the hell does that mean?" He stopped for a second. "And I've told you to stop speaking bloody Welsh in the office!"
Mason finished the last of his lunch. He dropped it into the bin. Basically it means 'Speed without direction only leads to going in circles at seventy miles an hour'. I'm trying to understand him."
"And?"
"It's either a powerplay or a final move. Several attacks that do nothing to seriously injure anyone but are specifically designed, it seems, to [censored] off several Tight-clans on both sides of the border. He WANTS to be hunted. One reason or another. It's either a distraction, a trap or a death-wish."
"How to figure out which?"
Mason sighed. "You can't from one opening move. We need more." He swung his feet off the table. "Vandalism, ABH, assault with a sonic weapon, assault with a gas weapon...." He read a report one of the other officers handed to him. "...use of explosives. Guess I better get into my Liason shoes again. See if I can stop 'em killing him so a judge can send him to the chair or the psyche ward." Mason stood up, grabbed his grey jacket and headed for the door as his senior reminded him Rhode Island didn't HAVE the death penalty.

It is great news! But Doc's on the 3rd December(!)

((So... .. Opinions?))

The wind whips around him as he pushes down through the cold winter sky, heading forever downwards towards the ground far below. He wondered for a moment if he was going to pass out as he continued downwards. No? Hell with it, he thought. He’d bought the ticket so he may as well enjoy the ride.

Five minutes earlier.

Tyger waited until the Captain hit the fence before taking his run up. He decided that it’d be safer for the Captain if he didn’t hit super speed until after he’d crossed her back but, even so, he was close to it when he stamped on her. He turned towards the watchtower and accelerated as the alarms blared. There was, as usual, a slight incline then a straight wall to the observation post gantry. Why, he wondered, did they always put the slight inclines in? A straight 90 degree shift would make running up the side impossible but, with an incline…. Tyger was on the gantry before three seconds was out. He hit one of the two guards twenty times in a second and threw the second guard out down to the ground below as Markham pushed herself up to her feet.

Markham could hear boots. Many boots. And they were coming her way from the other side of the complex. Well, she thought as she smelt the burnt clothes she was wearing, it was about time. A fight was what she needed right now. She pushed herself up as a figure slammed into the ground and she heard the snap of his collarbone. Or was it his neck? She decided that she’d care later and charged the on-coming soldiers.

That, thought Wolf as the silo roof opened fully, is a f^cking big rocket. She saw the three protectors looking out at Hunter and decided that, as good as he was, three of the bumblebee-tighted bastards and the fifty of so other troops inside might be just a bit much for him to handle. She made a decision and plunged into the silo, her arms stretched sideways with her swords cutting to either side as she made her way to the lower gantry. She landed heavily as she always did when not wearing the winged boots and hopped into action as her healing ability got to work on the ankle she’d just sprained. Not optimum, she decided, when facing an armoured Crey protector. He extended his force field as Wolf attacked, bringing her blades in low at his servo joints. The field made her miss and her swords scratched furrows into his plating instead. He hit her on the back of the head and Wolf wished she’d been able to bring her helmet.

Hunter watched with bemusement as Wolf swept down through the protectors. Her blades opened one up across the stomach – looks like Paragon Protector don’t count as human he mused as he considered the limitations of the Ghost Rapiers - and knocked one off her feet. He took advantage of the situation and jumped down, landing on the stunned figure with his full weight. He rolled and pulled himself upright pulling himself into a combat ready position. He jumped at the others and scissor-kicked, his left leg connecting with the wounded protector, the other colliding with a researcher and half knocking him off the gantry. Hunter gasped as the other protector hit him from behind. He swept a foot low at his other opponent. He felt it connect as the other protector sprouted bones. Great, he thought. And smiled. Then he hit the bone weaver hard in the kidneys.
Didn’t know it could do that, Tyger thought as the guard post began descending back to the ground. &lt;Four minutes to launch&gt; The alarm said. Great. Several had made it past Markham who, he noted, was rather distracted. Ok. All the more for him then. He jumped from the ledge and landed heavily, displacing a cloud of snow as he cracked its’ surface with both his back paws and one of his front ones. He was crouched like a quarterback now and couldn’t resist a ‘Hutt!’ as he shoulder charged a patrol guard.

Markham had been blocking the troops from getting to the guard post and the ground around her was littered with the broken and bruised. The one that hadn’t fallen was a Crey Volt tank and he was giving pretty much as good as he was taking. This was a surprise to her. Perhaps they’d been upgraded? She was getting annoyed with this. Her backhand would have taken any trolls’ head off but, with this guy, it merely knocked him to the ground. He kicked out, catching her on the knee, before jumping back up and swinging a fist towards her head. She caught it and found herself almost struggling to stop its’ forward momentum. She grunted and twisted hard. The armour ruptured and Markham saw sparks. She growled. A friggin’ ROBOT! They were making battle-borgs now? Ok, time to up it a notch.

Down below, as the pre-launch reached three minutes, Wolf looked up defiantly at the Crey boss. Blood trickled from her nose and mouth and she examined her opponents’ wounds. She could see where the blades had sliced the armour and she could see her assault had staggered him. What staggered him more was what came next. A call from above of ‘Look out below’ and she rolled to one side as a bone wielding Paragon Protector landed hard on the Crey boss. She took the opportunity to put her blade through his neck joint. Must be a lot of psionic damage, she thought through gritted, bloodstained, teeth. Man, she had a headache. Time to get out of this room, she decided as the engines began to roar. She made for the door.

Hunter could see she was ok. Now for himself, he thought as the other Protector attacked again. An axe kick to the protector’s head kept him on the gantry way and just as deadly. Hunter jumped back as the Protector sprouted claws and swiped at him. The blades cut through the thick coat and scratched the knife-proof layer below. Hunter was thankful he’d not used those earlier and launched himself into the air, bringing his boot down into the protectors’ masked face. The thing hardly moved. Another slice, just missing. Hunter decided he couldn’t do this forever and focussed himself again, blurring his movement and speeding his reactions. He landed between the protector and the rocket and spun around to crane kick the protector clear across to the door. He fell through it. And the door shut as Hunter heard ignition below him.

“Time to run!” Tyger told Markham as he got across to her side. She was dismembering the robot tank with her bare hands now. The sounds of ignition were beginning to fill the air. Markham had to agree and the pair legged it towards the nearest building. Markham wondered why they were going there until she noted what Tyger must have seen. It was insulated with ceramic tiling and she re-protected the room by locking the door behind them. They watched through a porthole window as the rocket took off, moving slowly upwards, then accelerating. Tyger looked at Markham. “Was that..?” He asked.
She nodded. “Yup.” She said. “He’s on the f*cking nosecone!”

It had seemed such a good idea at the time, Hunter thought as he struggled to keep himself attached to the tip of the rocket, His hands gripping tightly onto one of the side plates and the half-grav unit assisting as best it could. Still felt like his arms were breaking though, he mused as he wondered how many G’s he could take. He could hardly move his legs, now, as they were so cold. Still, he had one hope left to stop this thing. If he could just move his arm without falling off. How high now? This had to be the last… No, he thought, not yet. He managed to pull one arm off the handhold and shouted silently as he felt the bone snap as it pinioned down to his side. Now, if he could just reach the pouches without losing his grip… He could hardly see now, all feelings going numb but he knew which pouch he needed and he could just… The thing was beginning to turn now. It had to be NOW! He opened the pouch and felt the top section slam into his body. He reached for the equipment within.

A few seconds later, he found himself in freefall, descending through the clouds as the rocket rocked to an explosion in its nosecone where Hunter had placed a handful of explosive Shurikens. He didn’t see it. He couldn’t feel much of anything now as he fell through the cover. His eyes wouldn’t close, he realised. They were ‘frozen’ open for now. He wasn’t passing out. Hell with it, he’d bought the ticket so he may as well enjoy the ride. If that red shape would get out of the way first…

Tyger watched as Hunter fell past him, then turned and flew down after him, as fast as he was able. Stopping him straight would have been murder for sure. Tyger knew the drill. Don’t stop them dead because their bones tend to move on, particularly the neck. Grab them and slow them gradually. Besides, he could get Hunter to the Hospital in North Platte for severe Hypothermia.

Three days later, Markham welcomed him back to the land of the living. “They blamed the Freaks as we thought, but they’re having to do a LOT of explaining about their facility and why they never made it official knowledge. They’ll spend a lot clearing it up. The rocket ended up in Storm Lake, Iowa.” Hunter tried to smile. He just about managed it.

Detective mason. Also honoured if... you know the rest.

http://snipurl.com/91p51