One Fine Saturday on the Monorail (Open/Silly IC)

-=BEGIN OOC BLOCK=-
I haven't seen any food fights or anything like that in these forums, so I thought I would create and/or revive -- I'm not going to go through tons of pages of threads to see if it once existed -- a silly IC thread.


It's a simple enough concept, in three parts.
1) What does your 'toon do on the monorail?
B) What about lots of 'toons on the same monorail?
III) Pretty near all at once?

This is partly inspired by the PvPOnline comic that came with the DVD set, and partly by having my defender perched atop the overhang inside the monorail station in Skyway for about five minutes and watching the heroes go by.
-=END OOC BLOCK=-

Darque Kitten scrambled along the street, dropping to all fours for speed. It didn't actually make her go faster -- in fact, quite the opposite -- but it was a reflex. She had to get to King's Row, and quickly. The nice man in the blue suit had asked her to do something important there.

She reached the Yellow Line and scrambled up the ramp, panting with equal parts exertion and eager anticipation. As she headed towards the monorail car, the teller behind the window noticed her ID hanging dogtag-style from her collar and waved her through. She'd be there in moments.

She piled aboard the monorail, grinning ferally in anticipation of the fun she would have playing with the Hellions in their hideout, and began to purr.

---

*notices a kitten thing in the monorail*

Hey there! I would usually be amazed at KItten-hero-things but I have spent so much time in the Litterbox that i'm just not impressed anymore. Infact I think they drove me insane.

*suddenly laughs like a maniac, banging his head against the monorail wall*

More insane than before anyway.

*takes a bazooka out of nowhere and shoots a padestrian for littering*

Now, now you should know better than that! Anyway whats your story?

---

Paragon City: the flawed jewel of the east Coast, the pivot point of the metahuman world, the most technologically advanced metropolis this side of a Fritz Lang movie and home to more demigods in human form than Olympus and Valhalla combined...

...and every one of us still has to take the damn train to get anywhere.

My name's Sam Black, better known these days as "Samurai P-I"...don't laugh, it was better than "The Transgender Defender"...and I was on my way to a case. Okay, maybe not a CASE, actually, but the law WAS involved...apparently even licenced superheroes aren't allowed to slash the tires of cars that nearly run them down while chasing Hellions. My bad. So here I am, dragging my cute Japanese butt (it's only a loaner) to the courthouse at 0'dark early in the morning.

So, there I am reading a week old Paragon Times ("HEROES HALT HAVOC!"...why do I have a sense of deja'vu all of a sudden?) and waiting for the Yellow Line to show up when this cross between a Vargas girl and an inhabitant of the Island of Dr. Moreau bounds past me, knocking me flat on my as...pirations.

Now, I'm not the kinda guy...er, lady...to raise a stink about that kinda thing. Fact o' life with public transportation, no big...I just chuck my paper at the trashcan, straighten my suit-jacket, and head onto the train.

...of course, that's when some nutjob fires a freakin' BAZOOKA at me and yells, "Now, now you should know better than that!"

Now, Mama Black didn't raise the kinda boy...er, girl (damn, this gets tricky some days...)...to fly off the handle at a moment's notice, but I think, in the case of heavy ordinance being applied to my person, I have more than earned the right to a little hero-licence abuse.

Wouldn't you know it, though, the jerk is chatting it up with the "Cat Fancy After Dark" centerfold on the very train I need to take! I tell you, sometimes it doesn't pay to get outta bed...anyway, I march myself over to him, pull myself up to my full 5'3" (GOD, I miss being tall...) and, in my time-share body's sternest voice (which still sounds like a pithed hamster to me), say, "Hey, Mac...you mind tellin' me what's with the 'Woodsy the Owl meets Rambo' routine back there?"

---

"Uh oh, heroes on board..." thought Truck, a freelancing brute from the rogue islands (fresh from a job against a Longbow facility), as he saw some bloke blast some other bloke with a bazooka. "I better just lay low and blend in with the rest of the tram's passengers."
Truck's plan to blend in had one fundamental flaw: He was big and blue and the suit he wore just screamed "Mafia!" (seriously, it kept screaming that. Truck's suit had been cursed by some mystic and the poor brute couldn't get the darn thing to just shut up!).

"Hey, Mac...you mind tellin' me what's with the 'Woodsy the Owl meets Rambo' routine back there?" screamed some lady at the bazooka hero.

"Ah great, looks like something's about to go down..." thought Truck.
"Mafia! Mafia!" shouted Truck's suit.

---

"...So anyway, Doctor Isotope- he's my archrival, you know- Doctor Isotope takes out this massive nuclear energy cannon. I'm talking grenade-launcher size, absolutely gigantic. And Freudian of course; who needs a blaster that big? Probably has to bring tweezers to the bathroom he's overcompensating so badly, ya know? So he's aiming his atomic cannon thingy my way, and my first thought is: 'Does he even know what my powers are?' I mean, the I-Suit- I told you about that, right? -the I-Suit, all it does is-"

An explosion rocks the monorail, the epticenter somewhere in a car to the rear. The smiling Robert Williams, cut off in mid-sentence, crashes onto the bored but attractive brunette, and the pair tumble for a breif second before the train corrects itself and stabilizes automatically. In moments Robert has straightened himself up, brushed the dirt off of his otherwise pristine suit, rubbed the stinging handprint on his left cheek, and made his way through the sliding door into the next car. His briefcase is at the ready like a sword, and his hand waves the still-lingering smoke away from his eyes as he surveys the bizarre scene in front of him. He decides that he's mad enough to join the fray.

"Hey, hey! What the Sam Hill is going on here? This is no place for a bazooka! Do you even have a permit for that thing?" Robert brushes a stray piece of leftover dust from his greying, but perfectly aligned and combed, hair. "It's unbelieveable! I swear, of all the inane superheroes these days, myself included, I've never..." Unable to finish his rant, he lets it hang. And he was so close to fully entrancing that lovely girl, too!

---

Darque Kitten hisses and takes a step back from the upset female human. She feels a low growl building in her throat. All she wanted to do was go... somewhere... and do important things. It was so hard to remember.

Now, two humans were making angry noises at each other, a third, blue one, was trying to hide while his fur-or-whatever was making other human-type noises.

She was getting a headache, and began to emanate the drifting shadow that kept her alive and well on the streets of Paragon. (( Dark Embrace and Death Shroud anyone? ))

---

Truck sighed because he knew it'd be up to him to defuse the situation before the authorities could be contacted; the authorities could make things... uncomfortable.

"Hey, cut it out youse!" he shouted as he stood up.
"Who are you?" an unimportant passenger asked.
"Er..." Truck then saw a discared newspaper, "My name is Heroes. In fact, I recently halted Havoc, you may have heard about that." Truck looked around menacingly for anyone who would challenge that claim. Seeing no one, Truck resumed his lie, "So, uh, youse blokes better behave yerselves ("Mafia!" shouted Truck's suit), 'else I'll have to, uh, call 'da conductor on ya'! Trust me, 'dems conductors are tough, they'll throw youse outta' the tram while it's still movin', ya' know what I mean?"

---

I fix the blue guy with a level stare. "Please, Brainy Smurf...if you're a hero, then I'm-"

"Mafia!" Yelled his coat.

...now, I've heard of loud clothes, but this was ridiculous.

Before I could finish my witty banter, I noticed the feline fantasy starting to smolder. I don't mean she was ticked...I mean, she obviously WAS, what with the hackles and growling and so on...no, I mean she actually had smoke starting to billow from her. Black, nasty looking stuff, too...somehow, I got the feeling that this smoke was the "worse than fire" kind, so I took a step back.

Of course, that put my right on the toes of some lawyer-looking mook holding his griefcase like I usually hold my sword...Samurai Lawyer?

Before this trip could turn any more into a bad Saturday Night Live skit, I held my hands up placatingly to Meow Mix and said, "Easy, Sarabi, me an' Captain Overkill here were just having a discussion about the intricacies of proper firearm management. It's not like we're-"

"Mafia!" shouted the blue guy's jacket again.

I glanced at him. "Doesn't that thing have a volume knob?"

---

"If it did, don't you think it'd still be screamin' that?"

---

"How should I know? Three words that'll make yer life easier, mac: change of clothes."

---

*notices lots of noise and things happening, and a few people yelling at him because of his bazooka*

Hmm? Whats that? A bazooka you say? Astounding dear chap! Never seen one of those for a long while-

*cuts off wwith a strange expression forming on his face*

>(gollum like voice) Do it! Now!<

No! I'll never do it again!

>Oh but you must! DO IT!<

I will NOT!

>Fine, have it your way.<

*Blarg lets out a bloodcurdling scream, when it stops he has a glazed over look in his eyes*

>Geralb! Geralb! *Flips back his coat to reveal a mirror. Puts the mirror up to his face as he looks in it he changes...His hair turns a bright oarnge, his body gets slimmer and bonier yet more musceled, and his face stretches and contorts to an inhuman grin wider than possible on any known species, while his eye become large blood-red crosses, and to finish off the look the nose of this creature becomes a crimson ball. He turned into... a clown!*

*takes bazooka* Now, we shall see canage!

Mafia! shouts the suit.

---

A loud THUMP! sounds on the roof of the car, as Feral Tigress lands on it to hitch a ride between stations...



followed immediately by a YOWL! of frustration as she slides off the back of the car and lands on the tracks on her butt.



"OK, whose bright idea was it to make it so you CAN'T ACTUALLY LAND on mobile objects???"

---

"City of Heroes. April 27, 2004 - August 31, 2012. Obliterated not with a weapon of mass destruction, not by an all-powerful supervillain... but by a cold-hearted and cowardly corporate suck-up."

"A clown, huh? I know how to deal with clowns," thought Truck. "But if I SMASH ed him they'd know I am a brute, and obviously I'm automatically evil if I'm a brute, because no one with SMASH erific powers can ever be good. *cough* Hippocrites... and why did I just cough in my own internal monologue? Doesn't matter anyway, I'm bad to the bone. Well, I guess the point I'm trying to get out, barring the unnecessary tangents, is I can't beat this guy up without revealing I'm a brute and, currently, these heroes ain't got nothing on me. But seeing as I have no desire to die a most gruesome death by the hands of this bazooka clown, there's only one option..."
Truck then pulled on the emergency brake.

---

::lurches forward off her seat, barely missing the handrail in front of her::

A redhead in a motorcycle jacket and miniskirt generally gets catcalls from time to time on the Yellow Line, but not me.

See, the big blue "A" on the jacket pretty much tells anyone who's anyone in Paragon who I am:

Aurora Girl.

Well, usually the blue lightning pulsating from my skin does it too, but I'm proud of the jacket.

"What are you thinking?"

"Mafia!" cries the suit.

I stand up and pull my hair back, realizing this bazooka-wielding clown-morphing-thing is not your run-of-the-mill panhandler I've seen more and more often recently.

"Look, Bozo, seriously, I'm kind of a big deal. You might not want to blow me up. People know me, you know? You wouldn't want one of the biggest supergroups in the city to rain down on your curly little head because you wasted their primary blaster, do you? And you, Suit Boy, I'm gonna get real skittish if you can't shut that thing up. When I get skittish, things blow up, and I'm not the kind of girl who wants to see your suit blown up in broad daylight."

My hands start to glow blue and white as I subtly make my point, but I can't help but stare at the kitten sneaking up behind Bozo...


-AG

---

Carl and Sons @Aurora Girl (Pinnacle)

[ QUOTE ]
::lurches forward off her seat, barely missing the handrail in front of her::

A redhead in a motorcycle jacket and miniskirt generally gets catcalls from time to time on the Yellow Line, but not me.

See, the big blue "A" on the jacket pretty much tells anyone who's anyone in Paragon who I am:

Aurora Girl.

Well, usually the blue lightning pulsating from my skin does it too, but I'm proud of the jacket.

"What are you thinking?"

"Mafia!" cries the suit.

I stand up and pull my hair back, realizing this bazooka-wielding clown-morphing-thing is not your run-of-the-mill panhandler I've seen more and more often recently.

"Look, Bozo, seriously, I'm kind of a big deal. You might not want to blow me up. People know me, you know? You wouldn't want one of the biggest supergroups in the city to rain down on your curly little head because you wasted their primary blaster, do you? And you, Suit Boy, I'm gonna get real skittish if you can't shut that thing up. When I get skittish, things blow up, and I'm not the kind of girl who wants to see your suit blown up in broad daylight."

My hands start to glow blue and white as I subtly make my point, but I can't help but stare at the kitten sneaking up behind Bozo...


-AG

[/ QUOTE ] Who said I was going to blow YOU up? *points the bazooka at the Brute* I can give you proof that he is not a Paragon Citizen. Infact he is a Brute. You know, one of Lord Recluses guys.

I will shoot at him. If he esplodes then he is normal. If he is knocked back but still alive he is a superhuman. In other words, a Brute.

*points and aims* Ready? OK! *fires*

---

OK, now, I ain't the most heroic person in the world. Far from it, really...the words "abject coward" tend to spring to mind, actually. Still, firing a bazooka point-blank in someone's face to prove that they're a bad guy? Now that just don't wash...

So, here I am, dive-tacking the blue guy to get him outta the way of a bazooka shell...of course, for our differences in mass, I may as welll be dive tackling a stone column. The effects are similar: a rather spectacular riccochet OFF the blue guy and INTO Bozo the Psychopath's bazooka-arm. The good news? I knock his aim off enough so that he onl;y blasts a hole in the ceiling.

The bad news? Well, bazookas are pretty dang loud, especially if yer knocking your skull against one...and me without my earplugs.

"Mafia!" shouted the jacket.

"WHAT?!" shouted me.

---

"Good. Now that that's taken care of."

::flies out of the hole in the roof, thinking 'Never again will I take the tram from Talos to Steel at 4 a.m.'::


-AG

---

Carl and Sons @Aurora Girl (Pinnacle)

[ QUOTE ]
OK, now, I ain't the most heroic person in the world. Far from it, really...the words "abject coward" tend to spring to mind, actually. Still, firing a bazooka point-blank in someone's face to prove that they're a bad guy? Now that just don't wash...

So, here I am, dive-tacking the blue guy to get him outta the way of a bazooka shell...of course, for our differences in mass, I may as welll be dive tackling a stone column. The effects are similar: a rather spectacular riccochet OFF the blue guy and INTO Bozo the Psychopath's bazooka-arm. The good news? I knock his aim off enough so that he onl;y blasts a hole in the ceiling.

The bad news? Well, bazookas are pretty dang loud, especially if yer knocking your skull against one...and me without my earplugs.

"Mafia!" shouted the jacket.

"WHAT?!" shouted me.

[/ QUOTE ] Now see! Even though I didn't succeed in blasting him with my bazooka, YOU bounced off him like he was a spring filled, rubber ball, and you were a kangaroo! That proves my point. And don't even say he's a Tanker. I mean seriously! When have you seen a Tank with a suit THAT ugly?

---

((Atlas Park, most days, actually.))


-AG

---

Carl and Sons @Aurora Girl (Pinnacle)

"Ah wuddeva, ya' got nothing on me, and furthermore I'm resistent to knock-back because, uh... (think Truck, think!) I'm an advanced yoga student (oh yeah, they'll buy that. these heroes are so stupid!)!"
Truck then relieved a passenger of a novel and took a seat.
"The only villain here is the guy blasting civilians with a bazooka!"
Truck then put the novel in front of him and began reading.
"Mafia!"

---

[ QUOTE ]
"Ah wuddeva, ya' got nothing on me, and furthermore I'm resistent to knock-back because, uh... (think Truck, think!) I'm an advanced yoga student (oh yeah, they'll buy that. these heroes are so stupid!)!"
Truck then relieved a passenger of a novel and took a seat.
"The only villain here is the guy blasting civilians with a bazooka!"
Truck then put the novel in front of him and began reading.
"Mafia!"

[/ QUOTE ] (Oh yes, I agree heroes ARE stupid!)

Did I mention that I have mind powers from the Dominater set?

*flashes his signature evil grin*

By the way... That suit is horrible!

"Mafia!"

---

"(Yep. By the way, psychic evidence will stand up in no court. It's just you and me, clown boy!) Oh look, the tram is moving again," Truck noticed before returning to his book.
"Mafia!"

---

"Now wait just a darn cotton-pickin' minute!" Robert shouts, rejoining the conversation suddenly. An obvious super-hero glint in his eye, he passes the time until the others notice him again by pressing a shiny red button on his case that, incredulously, has gone unnoticed by all until now. Within seconds the treated leather has flipped itself inside-out and wrapped around his pressed suit, then hardened and warped into a completely new form. What once was a seemingly empty briefcase is now a powerful mechanical suit, its steel plating on the shoulders, boots and gloves bristling with thin but dangerous-looking spikes that occasionally spark to one another. With strength and height that's obviously a derivative of this startling new development, both Painfully Obvious Villain and Bazooka the Clown are lifted by their hackles well into the air.

"You two are in biiig trouble, I'd say. Now, Hero's Arrest easily covered suspected Villains, and you've got that hole in-" Williams is cut off by a cry of "Mafia!" by the suit, falters for a moment, then continues. "-hole in the ceiling to answer for. Consider youselves captured for the time being, and if either of you so much as attempt to escape, I'll have no trouble making your knees into reflected horizontal asymptotes, if you catch my drift." He pauses, then looks up, a sudden sheepish expression on his face. "Too obscure? I'm trying to work on getting rid of my math professor job from my monologues, but I can't seem to separate my calculus from my crimefighting." He looks down, clear honesty in his mid-fifties face. "What do you guys think? Too dramatic, what with the lifting and all? It's your feedback that really make this job what it is."

---

"If that's the best you can do pal, wake me when it's over," Truck taunted before returning to his book. The tram still beat taking a cab...
Besides, when it came right down to it; with all the heroes and civilians in the room, building up fury would be a cinch, should the need arrive.
"Mafia!"
"Ah heck," Truck thought, "My cover's blown. So much for not trying to get blown up by a clown. Guess it's playtime..."
"Hey Mr. Briefs," Truck called out as he pulled a recently 'liberated' Longbow nullificator out of his suit, "Look alive, or rather, don't!" Truck used the nullificator to sap 'Mr. Brief's' power, this allowed Truck to gain his footing. The brute then SMASHED the sapped poor sap against a wall.
"(Hey bazooka boy, yer next!)" Truck thought. Truck turned around, quickly jabbed the clown, and dissoriented the clown.
Truck then picked up a seat occupied with civilians and looked at the 'cat scrapper'. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna throw them at you or professor womanizer over there." Truck then kicked a hole in the side of the tram and lobbed the seat and its occupants through it. The tram at that point was high over the city...
"Save em if ya can, I'm gonna have a nice little 'chat' with the conductor."

---

Techsupport was tapping his armoured boot-toes on the floor of the Yellow line station. Here he was, waiting for the train, which was once again late. An amazing feat when one passes by every thirty seconds.

He checked his watch, he checked his armours' clock and he checked his mission statement in the note he had been given by his contact. "We don't know what the council is up to, but you have exactly fifteen minutes to stop them before they blow up an office building" it read.

Finally the cab arrived and the doors opened up on... A huge blue guy in a talking suit with a big gun, staring down a big orange guy with a bazooka while in a corner a hissing catgirl was corroding the very metal of the vehicle itself with smouldering black smoke.
Techsupport raised a finger and nodded.

"I'll take the next one." He said, watching the doors slide closed again.
'I wonder if anyone will get mad at me if I just let the building expode and go grab a cup of coffee over at my brothers' place' he thought, watching the weirdo-filled caboose trundle off.

---

TechDefender Rad/Ele Defender
D'20 Gladiator DM/SR Scrapper
Cyclonite Cat Fire/Fire Blaster
[url="http://www.dutchfurs.com/~taross/w/screenshots/Ferretgal/Ferretgal.jpg"]Ferretgal Claw/Inv Scrapper[/url](Virtue)
@Cyclonite Cat
(Names changed at GM 'request')