((*bounces* Yaaaaaaay! 
))
(([ QUOTE ]
"Wait a minute, what are you doing?"
"I am going to get into a fight, the likes of which I have not seen in nearly a century."
[/ QUOTE ]
I'm sorry, but I must wonder how you managed to make an entire sentence only with the letters B, A, D, A, S, and S ))
((*hack* There it goes. It's not easier the second time. >_< I'm hoping the third will be easier, and thankfully, I've already started.))
I am part of the cycle, not beyond it. My last cycle ended with a sword in my chest, in this time period. I did not expect it to be so, but it occurred - and I was poorer for it, losing a durable body, and the contacts that the doctor possessed. In exchange, I was given a body without mental instability, without the knowledge of Ariana, and without the killing edge that the doctor possessed. The doctor and I were one. My new shell and I are not.
Michael Norman shuddered slightly, feeling his death on the horizon. The sense had flared to life three days ago, and it simply sharpened, digging into his spine constantly, waiting perpetually. It did not feel like the welcoming embrace he had expected - had been promised! - with the souls he had violently offered to Death's hungry maw. He jumped when the door to his cell clanged open. The guard spoke sharply, "Up against the wall!" He obediently allowed the guard to cuff him, not betraying the power that was simply waiting for him to reach out and wipe the smirk off the guard's face. "Mr. Neal is here to see you. Hell usually freezes over before he's willing to deal, so you'd better play nice, scumbag." The guard motioned his backup in front of him, and took position behind Michael, baton at the ready. "Move." They led him to the standard interview room, where his public defender - the fool was incompetent, but that pandered to his own plans - waited, looking mildly jittery.
EADA Chris Neal swept into the room - he was something of an ideal, and Michael had hated him the instant he had been assigned to the trial. Blond hair, blue eyes, a ready grin, and a handsome face that it seemed like his life had barely touched. He had also learned that he possessed the sort of charm that usually belonged to men who worked the other side of the aisle, and had seen a forceful personality that had cowed those under him in the heirarchy. Disgustingly perfect. "I have three other cons to make deals with, so I suggest making this short and taking life, instead of the needle. All I want in exchange is your boss."
"No." The sense of his impending doom on the back of his neck sharpened, and his hands shifted. Any minute now...
The DA flopped backward slightly in his chair, smugly, arrogantly confident in his case. "Look, we have your prints, we have your weapon. We have your buddies. You want to dodge the needle, you got one option, and that's me. You play ball, you keep breathing. You don't, you can talk to whatever sick diety it is you think defends you when we put a needle in your arm and toss your body in the ground." The sense of imminent doom sharpened even more, the Fates' scissors looking for the end of his lifethread...
"You think your pathetic version of justice fazes me?" That was as far as he got, before a sudden flash of light blinded him. Then a boom, and bells taking up a shrill cry.
He shook his head, vision clearing. He knew the boom. It was his comrades' plan to free him and his companions - and find a bevy of corrupt sacrifices in the bargain, ending a group of violent lives all at once. The flash of light..
I cast my glance out upon the Astral. The spark of life in this one was not that of one barely forming, like I used to reach out my hand to - it was fully formed, startlingly intelligent, and driven to its own ends, moreso than I would expect a prepared backup shell to be. I recall that the new shell was angry, and searching for a weapon. I reached My Hand upon him, and made him my conduit to the physical...
The DA, his chair upturned as he staggered backward, had been replaced by someone new. Or perhaps not someone new. Same blond hair, same face, new clothing instead of the suits that lawyers tended to favor in this district - heavy blue platemail, simple in its design, with intricate silvery patterning that extended to its back, ending in a pair of shimmering feathered wings - not an angelic white, but silver. It shone with radiance, purity, and a rage beyond knowing, the sort that could burn the world.
He knew - this was Life's answer to his master.
Once, in every lifetime, we are offered the opportunity to act directly through our shells. The doctor never resisted when I demanded it of him. This one did. He brewed with rage at this corruptor of life, and yet did not relinquish control, still demanding his information. He clawed for purchase, even until I silenced him and forced myself forward to purge the corrupted...
The DA's voice was the same, but now afire, far more commanding than it had been, as it whipped forth again. "One last opportunity, before I consign you to the hells that you have chosen." A massive blade of white fire simply appeared in the armored figure's hand, and he levelled it at Michael. "Your masters, your sacrificial center, and I will give you back unto the Fates, instead of honoring the Divine's soulmark upon you." The blade of white fire.. death by another source would have been welcomed. He knew that sword would allow no return.
"N..no!" Michael flung out a spray of raw death energy, ensnaring the dazed guards and draining their souls in a blindingly fast motion. With the power that gave him, he flung a torrent of darkness at that white sword, and fled down the hallway, blasting the door open with another wave of darkness. As fast as his feet would carry him, he scurried down the hallway, blasting down door after door.. a glance over his shoulder, and he stumbled a step, seeing the armored figure hot on his heels, his quick walking stride devouring ground. Michael scurried around a corner, and breathed a sigh of relief at seeing the spotlights shining through a hole in Cell Block D. He rushed across, noting 20 of his acolytes, and five the priests under himself - all armed with shotguns and the occasional small assault rifle taken from the guards. There was also maybe fifty inmates, all tied up and subdued. He spoke quickly to the youngest of his priests, "We need to go. Now."
"We have this timed down to the second. 15 minutes before the guards can mount an assault, 30 minutes before they can muster anything that would be able to stop the choppers, an hour before even the Rapiers would be able to get out here. Do not fear, Deathspeaker." The bewildered look on the initiate's face was completely galling to Michael.
"It is not the guards I fear. If you wish to see the second life, you will take the sacrifices we have, and flee, and leave those who are not here!"
"There are over one hundred acolytes that you wish to leave here! I can't leave them behind.." Altrustic. He would wind up a sacrifice, somehow...
A bright streak of white caused them both to look up, and a resounding explosion came from outside... A yell from one of the death cultists nearest the impromptu exit. "What was that?! Whatever it was, it's destroyed two of the helicopters' rotors, and the third is half-melted!"
Michael's gaze turned back to the door, and the white fiery sword returned to the hand of that armored figure. The priest beside him swore softly. "The Silver Wing.. he's supposed to be in Paragon, I thought.."
"Who?"
"A Hero. An Eternal." An icepick drove itself straight into Michael's spine. The Eternals... undead hunters of the highest caliber. Only whispered about, a quiet fear among the Deathspeakers, a silent hope that they would never draw the attention of these men and women who, in the legends they had heard, were willing to wait millennia for their opportunity to cleanse a place. It was whispered that they could smell the touch of Death, that they were fearless, and could, if they wished, blend perfectly with humanity...
But this one chose not to, obviously.
Panic fire began to come from the gathered priests and acolytes as the armored form approached, fiery greatsword in hand. The bullets glanced off the armor, not even causing him to break stride as he swept the greatsword toward one of the closer priests. The scream was.. tinged with relief, almost, he thought, as the flames consumed the body in a holy torrent.
Michael shuddered helplessly as the sword of fire whizzed past him, thrown again, an explosion, more howls of relieved pain. He flung out his hands, calling upon the power of his master to let him claim the power within the dazed inmates' death. He shuddered with fear, as he felt the aura of Life sheltering the inmates that were behind the armored entity... but then the power from the others filled him to bursting, and he laughed, maniacal with the thrill of dark power rising within him. The armored form stopped before him, raising its sword to a neutral ready position. He perceived this tiny sentinel of Life, huge sword held in one hand.. And reached forth with the power to snuff it out.
It burned him. The aura this tiny sentinel bore was like acid upon his power, and he roared, a disjointed thing with more sound than body. He perceived the sweeping uppercut motion that the sentinel made, and it sliced through the darkness that shrouded him like a hot knife through butter. He approached continuously, radiant sword slashing through the barriers of darkness the Deathspeaker set up before him, until the Deathspeaker was a mere man before the fury of an eternal creature. The creature shouted, in that fearsome voice, "Let Life judge you, hungerer, for your crime!" The sweep of the blade was painfully sweet to him. Michael was made aware of how corrupt he had been, of the entity that would betray him as casually as another discarded an empty food box.. and how the Silver Wing had come to make it right.
I am often bemused at the durability of these shells, even without my help. Their minds are fragile and easily corrupted, at times, and at times, more durable than we care to admit.
Chris Neal looked upon himself, upon the soulless corpses, the piles of ash, and the convicts that lay there, staring in numb awe that they were still alive. Upon the blue-and-silver platemail that bore no weight. He felt, more than saw, the presence within him - the feeling of divine purity, righteous rage.
And he knew, then, that he was no longer only himself. The weight of it crashed upon him, and unconsciousness claimed him, armor fading.. but there upon the rumpled suit, there was now a silver pendant around his neck, tiny sapphire jewel on his chest.
Dawncaller - The Circle of Dawn
Too many blasted alts to list, but all on Virtue.
((Obligatory fox "SQUEEEE!" post! ))
((*grunts and hacks the arm off to make it go!*
I apologize for the numerous censored signs, and words that might need censoring. Unfortunately, the characters are immature and teenagers - and the major one that isn't is, to an extent, trying to sound at ease instead of like a collosal blankity blank to a humanoid it considers a friend.))
"Shut up and move!" Seth Peterson pushed at the cop in front of him. "I want to see! I need to see!" The cell phone call had come from an unlikely source, and Seth had spent the last ten minutes trying to shove his way past the officer, hampered by his broken arm and cramping lower body.
"Look, Seth, it's not pretty, and you don't need to see her like this." The cop spoke with quiet compassion.
"I don't care!" He shoved harder.
The detective in the room looked up, and sighed. "Let him through." Seth stumbled past the officer, and into the room where his sister lay, the officer supporting him near the door. He looked upon her - smoke still rose from Jessica Peterson's body, her face locked in an anguished rictus of pain. Blood soaked the floor and walls, some new, some old.. Seth sagged slightly against the cop, weeping helplessly, letting the officer guide him out.
"We're gonna be down here for the next couple days playing D&D," Seth yelled as he led his friends into the basement, balancing the pizzas against his shoulder.
"Days?" Jake Nielson laughed. "Dude, I know your writing. Y'can't DM your way into a wet paper bag, let alone outta one!"
"Hey, I need some form of cover." Seth grinned.
Tyler Lane made an odd meep noise, as he was wont to do when he was pondering a situation, while Chris Paulson checked over the various character sheets. "You realize, Seth, that we're gonna need a lot more caffeine for that much D&D, with you DMing." Chris's incisive gaze turned to Seth. "You are, as you have been since -that- game, hiding something."
"Shuddap! Tyler, close that door.. thank you. Chris, hold this." He plopped the pizzas into Chris's hands, and picked his way through the assorted junk toward the south wall. "This'll scare you." Seth put his palm up to the wall.. and then a blue glow shrouded it, a yellow bar going up, then down.
Administrator confirmed. The contralto female voice was toneless and lifeless. The wall near the glow slid open to reveal some sort of tube.
"...coooooool." Tyler broke the silence, and the two others practically ran over Seth in their rush to get into the tube. Thirteen expletives and a near-incident with the pizza later, the four of them were in the tube, headed downward.
"You didn't have to leave a shoeprint on my [censored]," Seth complained.
"What the hell is this?" Jake peered around the opaque walls as the motion of the tube continued. "Why'dn't you tell us 'bout this?"
Because the last time he came here, he told me to [censored] off and that he didn't want my help. This sourceless soprano female voice was smug, far more feminine than the last one, and almost felt like it was purring every word.
"Oh, Lord." Chris said it with a certain reverence that can only be achieved by the truly jaded. "You have managed to get us into a real mess this time."
"So, what's the deal?" The four of them had found various seating places in what had been dubbed the command center, and Jake had spoken up. "I say you ain't gonna show us this without a reason."
Seth shrugged. "It-" He inclined his head toward the larger monitor "-said to me, a while ago, that it could control what I had better than what I can do now." Seth held up his gloved hands, giving a pointed look. "I told her.. I didn't really care. I didn't, four weeks ago, you know? Put on some gloves.. and never take them off.." Seth sounded more than a little sour at this point.. "Everything works. Then.." He didn't need to finish the sentence. Two weeks was not long enough for anything to heal.
"Where d'we come into this?"
"You think I'm gonna do this alone?" Seth grinned. "You think you'd let me live it down if I tried to and you found out?"
"Waitaminute, waitaminutewaitaminute." Tyler jumped in here, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "You actually -do- have powers, if Chris wasn't bullshitting us. We don't."
That... is where my expertise comes in handy. The feminine voice returned.
"...expertise?" Chris said the word as though it were distasteful, and Seth laughed quietly.
Cybernetics, powered armor, perhaps a bit of genetic tampering... The feminine voice reeked of smug, like it was talking to a bunch of primitive children.
"There has to be a price, then." Chris was, as always, the practical one, and his glance at Seth spoke of mild reproach.
Not one I want from you. Seth's the one that interests me. The voice purred. It is, of course, quite simple - I enhance and modify you as best I can, as you see fit.. and he allows me to see through his eyes, hear through his ears, and feel through his hands. I offered something similar before, and as I said before, he told me to fornicate.
Jake looked around, frowning. "...that's it?" Jake gave Seth a look of exasperation. "Dude, what the [censored] are you doing still acting normal?"
Seth glared. "I didn't have a good enough reason to let something into my skull. I have a better one now."
Jake laughed. "Good enough for me. I'm in." He grinned fiercely. "Who else?"
Tyler swung his gaze back and forth between Seth and Jake.. then pushed off the console, nodding, grinning. "I'm in. Sounds like fun."
"If I don't go with you three, you will blow up the wrong city block. I'm in." Chris shook his head. "God help us all."
Chris looked on with disinterest, while the others avoided peering into the room where Jake was under the knife. "I believe she took him seriously when he said 'Replace everything non-essential with cybernetics'. I think I'll be scared to play basketball with him."
Seth pondered his new gauntlets, newly-installed heads-up display fascinating him. "At least you can still play basketball. I'm just glad there's no long-term recovery period."
Don't ask, don't tell. The female voice was now in his ear, though much softer. A girl has to have some secrets.
"How d'you think he'll keep 'em running, though?" Tyler murmured. "Pain in the [censored], if you ask me."
"He will burn that bridge when he comes to it, I'm sure." Chris laughed. "What do you intend to have done?"
"Well, the basic suite, of course. Comms, targetting, the hud.. After that, I figure an energy cannon and shield, and enhanced legs.. I might as well put those karate courses to use. Not as radical as Jake's.." A look of mild disbelief. "Didn't he say 'put a death laser in my chest'?"
"He did."
"How do you think she'll interpret that?"
"Energy cannon. Or antimatter cannon."
Tyler's toe tapped at the ground as he droned a series of meeps, clearly wondering. "High-tech, no? Wonder how it went unnoticed."
I'm good at hiding what I want hidden, and I don't want to be found. A laugh. I would rather have as few prying eyes as necessary, and I do not want to be dismantled to satisfy some fool's curiosity.
Tyler looked up at the speaker in the corner, and directed his question toward Seth. "What's it like to have her in your ear?"
"Not that bad. Quieter than the speakers. The heads-up display takes getting used to, but I'm starting to get it under control." Seth shifted and stood up, the powersuit's motors aiding his motion silently. "And the suit's not that bad."
"At least none of us need that heavy crap." Tyler grinned. "Spandex and plastic.."
"...I thought I would try a covering that would appear translucent, but that would be an illusion. Appear as ice."
"Go with your powers?" Seth grinned, clenching his fists, sudden, sharp arcs of teal electricity curling around his fists, the crosshair in his eye reticle scanning through the potential targets.
"Of course. There is something to be said for the clichés. If they were not useful, they would not be clichéd. Have you decided on a name yet?"
"Paladin."
Tyler laughed. "What? You're no holy man, and you don't use a sword or crusade.."
Seth arced a light jolt of electricity toward him, and Tyler ducked. "It's not about swords or crusading! It's about sacrifice. My power is, in essence, the power to sacrifice myself for another - I figure Paladin's as good a name to devote to that as any."
Chris nodded. "I like it. I did a bit of checking. It seems Ice was not taken, and I dare say that is as good a name as any."
Tyler snickered. "Regulator."
Seth rolled his eyes, leaning back. "Isn't that a supergroup?"
"Yeah, but there's no one with the actual -name-."
The computer's voice cut into his ear. I wanted to talk to you about finding a way for me to get on this 'internet'...
Two years pass. The Rapiers make a name for themselves as a versatile superteam specialized in rapid crisis response, aided by a flight of alien-seeming atmospheric fighters. Then, in March of '02, the Rikti War begins, and heroes everywhere step forward to fight. In November, the last battles begin - the Rikti stage one final assault on Des Moines, the same day that Alpha and Omega Teams lead their assault...
The dust began to settle as the last Rikti attack craft crashed into the farmland east of Des Moines. The Paladin caught his breath, lessened power to his flight module, and sent a broad-frequency transmission to command, team, and universal. "Everyone, report."
Chatter broke out into his comm, while the lower corner of his HUD lit up with names and status - groups and individuals. He set his jaw, watching the list of confirmed dead grow, though, as far as he was concerned, they had beat the spread. Two-fifths of the metahumans who had stood up to fight would be going home unmasked and in boxes, and another twenty percent were burned out, crippled, powerless, or missing. Thankfully, for some reason, the aliens had turned tail and retreated when their ship began to fall...
No response, no contact with Ice, Syber, and Regulator.
The Paladin shifted his jaw slightly to bring up his private frequency with the AI that had dubbed itself Shodan after finding System Shock. "No contact?"
None. Not even from their vitals transmitters. Running a second scan.
"Pal! Where're your boys?" Radiance, leader of a local group of heroines - although she herself was actually a well-designed android - flew upward as she shouted, her jetpack adjusting to hover beside him.. "The bugs-" She always voiced the opinion that the Rikti were bugmen "-are retreating, and I don't think anyone wants to go chasing after them. Thought I'd drag you farmboys to a club tonight. Figure I owe you guys and your technician a drink!" She flashed a grin.
"I don't know. Our central's lost contact, and I don't have a read on their vitals." Seth shifted his jaw again, eyes lidding slightly to bring up a menu, which he flicked to "show missing and non-checked in". "Give me a waypoint on last position, Shodan," Seth spoke under his breath.
Last position before no-contact was.. that can't be right. Reads as.. Seth turned, when the arrow appeared in his view, Radiance turning with him.
"Right.. under.."
"Oh, God, Pal, I'm sorry.." Radiance's quiet condolence was lost as the Paladin turned up the power to his flight module, streaking toward the remains of the Rikti vessel. Thankfully, when he arrived, it was already deserted. The powered armor let him pull aside heavy chunks of the blasted vessel, digging toward the bottom, where the waypoint lay. He barely noticed the six female forms landing next to him, pulling up bits and pieces in the same area, pushing them aside.
I've got a signal from their lifesign transmitters. They've flatlined. Quick download of the last fifteen minutes says that Ice has been flatlined for 12 minutes, Regulator for 7, and Syber for 3. Shodan's distant, dispassionate voice turned him frantic, ripping up the layers of metal and forcing it aside.. Until he found the bottom - a massive metallic dome.
They had met their end, in different ways, but had gone out surrounded by Rikti. Ice's faux-translucent blue form had holes, both in the illusion, where the spandexy material he used was melted by plasma blasts, revealing the flesh underneath, and literal ones, where the skin and bone was destroyed. Regulator had been skewered by shards of the falling ship - deflected off course by his energy shield, but still fast enough to punch right through him and skewer him to the ground. Syber had simply collapsed, his wetware's energy cells, built by his body's own metabolic energy supply, spent after exhausting itself to generate a force shield to prevent his allies from being crushed by the descending ship.
The Paladin did not hesitate, beginning to undo the clasps of his powersuit's glove as he reached for Syber. He didn't hear the woman's voice yelling "Stop him!", and failed to notice anyone around him, until he was on the ground, with three women on top of him, one making sure to hold down each hand, jamming the gloves onto his wrist, the third pushing herself against his chestplate, holding him to the ground. A fourth was behind him, hands on his shoulders. Radiance's upside-down face glared into his eyes. "No, Pal. You said you have to take it yourself. I'm not going to let you kill yourself! Not after everything!" She slammed his shoulders into the ground, bright blue hair framing heated fury. "I won't. Let you. Commit suicide."
"They fought for me! I got them into this! They don't deserve to be corpses on a battlefield!" It wasn't the Paladin speaking. It was Seth. "I can't let them be.."
"They came of their own will! They knew the risks. They fought because they wanted to. They wanted to be here. If you hadn't led them here, they would have found some other way." Radiance leaned close, blue hair tickling the Paladin's cheeks. "I lost four of my girls, here. I'd give anything to have 'em back.. but I can't. I won't trade you for them, and I damned well know you'd trade anything for your boys, Pal.. but you've gotta let go."
"Get off me." Paladin spoke flatly, and Radiance nodded toward the other three girls. The one in the middle winked slyly at him and assumed a mischevously seductive pose before finally standing up. Radiance glared at her, before releasing his shoulders, allowing the Paladin to drag himself to his feet. "The feds know where to deliver the bodies." He sounded tired, and hollow. "I am going home. The powersuit's combat functionality is nonexistent, and it will take time to repair."
"When you finish, let us know. You can always work with us." Radiance smiled at him, reassuring, honest, and gentle. "My card.. just in case." She tucked it into a hole in his suit.
Why aren't you fixing the powersuit?
"I don't want to do this anymore."
Yes, you do.
"No. I peed in Death's eyes too many times for one lifetime. I lost three friends because of it. No more."
I think that if you did, you could have an opportunity to mate with that nice blue-haired artificial human.
Seth went silent in mild awe. "...Just because some people get stupid about opportunities to use their [censored], does not mean I'm going to do so."
Hmph. I thought all human males would appreciate opportunities.
"You sound like a half-kitty alien version of my mother."
Perhaps your legends about women feeling kinship with felines is accurate.
"Perhaps I shouldn't take life advice from a species that thinks pissing on things is a way to say 'this is mine'."
Perhaps a species that flings its own feces is too stupid to take advice when given.
"I'm allowed to be."
What exactly is malfunctioning?
Seth ground the heel of his hands into his eyes, groaning quietly over the husk of the suit. "The biofeedback buffers are completely shot. The strength amp circuits are functional, but they won't be after we rip the thing apart in order to start fixing things, and we'll probably have to spend another year and a half rewiring it even after we put it back together. The armor itself is pretty much melted - couldn't deflect a small rock without it hurting. The focus arcs and charge conducers are so fused that I'd be better served using my normal gloves instead of armored gloves. Flight module has about.. 30 seconds of flight time left before it implodes... Targetting is spotty, phase system is blown.. Basically, I'd be wearing 200 pounds of 'Please shoot me, I look meta'."
...well, at least I won't have to worry about you using it at a moment's notice.
Angie - Radiance enjoyed assuming a few vanities of normals when she wasn't being heroic - itched at her scalp, blue hair bouncing. She had met Seth at the funeral, and they had developed a friendship - with her somehow ignorant of his old life. "PCU. Daaaaamn. No one gets in there except superbrains. Kinda'd tick me off, being a normal competing against them." She paused for a moment. "You know, if I was human and all."
Seth laughed, pulling his letter jacket tighter around himself in the wintry chill. "I just.. wanna get away from here. Bad memories and all that, and I figure, I learn enough out there, I can do something helpful."
"What, like a hero? You know I can set you up with cybernetics.."
"No." Seth's voice was firm. "Mundane stuff. Normal tech. That sort of thing."
You should do her. Seth ignored the voice in his ear - Shodan gained more sarcasm and slang over the past five months. Angie had made a pass at him once, and Seth had turned her down. Angie had also broached the subject of giving him powers via cybernetics before - about 10 seconds before making another pass at him. Shodan was not amused by his denials, but Seth didn't want any of that - the past was past.
"They say there's two ways you get after a year in Paragon - jaded, or psychotic."
"I'll take jaded for two hundred, Alex." He grinned, stomping his feet to shake off the cold. "What are we seeing tonight?"
"Bringing Down The House."
"Dear God. Please tell me you brought chaperones." Seth had a rule: No more romantic comedies without outside companionship.
A dramatic sigh, blue hair tossed in the wind. "Yes, it's a group outing. The girls are meeting us there."
Another block in silence. "I'm not doing it to get away from you."
"Yes, you are. Me, and the graves, and the girls, and your other fellas." She smiled sadly. "It's okay. I'll visit an' stuff, and maybe even bring the girls. We can go drinking when you turn 21."
"Sentient entities that cannot get drunk do -not- get to take advantage of me when I'm drunk. That can be rule two."
Seth was now three years older, and three years wearier. Statesman's call for anyone capable of being superhuman to rise up and take back the streets of Paragon happened six months ago.
Now, Seth had moved from his dorm out to the suburbs of Paragon, and the outer shell of the Paladin - wait, that name belonged to someone else, now - Seth's powersuit lay peeled aside and scattered around the floor. Seth's spot welder was patching up the inner layer of plating.
What the hell are you doing?
"What's it look like? Make yourself useful and find me schematics for the inner biofeedback buffers. And the kinetic feedback mechanisms for the bio armor gauntlet layer."
What, are you actually getting out there again?
"No, I'm going to sell the suit."
They're going to ask questions.
"They're also not going to know it's your tech, and even if they reverse-engineer the structure, they still won't know how to make it function. I get a good laugh and a ton of cash from selling them a suit that works flawlessly, but that they can't figure out how to power, they get a new type of tech to reverse-engineer. Win win."
...I'm thinking death thoughts toward you.
"Yeah, yeah."
Here's a better idea. A slot opened under the TV and spewed out a sheet of paper.
Seth raised an eyebrow as he read. "A $20k scholarship, plus a $500 a month stipend. Nice." He balled up the sheet and tossed it into a corner. "Why don't you register me as Gentle Guardian? I'm going to have to be gentle, while I fix this thing.." He frowned at the biofeedback relays on the hands. "I swear to God, I'm never going to be able to get into a scrap again, as delicate as this thing is.."
And I bet that that cute little metahuman that you tutor in Calc, what was her name? Vix...
Seth's jaw dropped. "Is that ALL you think about?!"
Dawncaller - The Circle of Dawn
Too many blasted alts to list, but all on Virtue.
((I had a random desire to write up and post the various incidents that lured my various interconnected characters to Paragon. So, I begin with their leader. Now, I will paste it and post it quickly before I lose my nerve.))
Don't disappoint me again! His goddess's warning stung in his ears, as the warmth of Travel released him. He had no idea where he was, how far he had gone, and why he had chosen to chase redemption instead of the bottle. The ground was rough, a rocky grey material unknown to him. Some form of rock. He thrust his spear toward the ground instinctively, intending to push himself up.. but turned, instead, to peer at the icy spear that was harshly vibrating in his hands. It glowed from within, up the length of it, ornate decorations shuddering as the spear hummed with power. At the first crack, he whipped his head back, holding the spear as far from him as possible..
Then it exploded with a cry that sounded like the fury of winter unleashed. He saw blood on the ground as the world faded to black, and his only thought was tinged with irony: Fate amuses itself with me...
He shot upward in the bed, panting. He quickly took in the curtains around him, done in white, a quickly-done cloth wall in a strange, sterile room. A sudden flare of dizziness caused him to bring his hand to his forehead..
The touch of cold metal caused another jolt of shock, and he jerked his hands away from his head, staring at them in a mixture of shock and horror, turning them to look at them. Cold blue, with black trim, they curled at his bidding. He cautiously extended one finger and pressed it into the palm of the other hand, a cold chill shooting down his spine... nothing. No feeling, no sense of touch or pressure. Already, his mind was assessing this development, ranging ahead of him. He would have to be careful when handling a weapon, relying on training to keep his grip instead of instinct. He would also have to kill whoever took his hands, simply on principle.
With a cold fury brimming, he peered over the rest of his body. There was a new scar, on his left pectoral, easily recognized, and a needle in the remains of his right forearm. He followed where the needle went, and pondered what sort of poison was being dripped into his veins. He curled his left hand around the needle.. and bent it in half. I definitely need to be careful with these. He tugged hard, frowning and tossing it aside, and started at a loud beeping noise that started up. He then pulled the sticker near the center of his chest off, flinching slightly, and pushed himself out of bed, ignoring the frantic, irritating noises that he did not understand.
He gritted his teeth, fighting off the ache of disuse, as he looked around for a weapon. His hands curled around the item from which the poison dangled, and his mind felt the methods by which he could wield and defend himself with this weapon transmit themselves to his muscles. And those damnable hands. He pulled the stand into a fighting stance and used it to sweep the curtain aside, to be greeted with a man that looked somewhat shocked, but bore no darkness...
Of course, had the warrior been able to see himself, he would be quite scary. From the perspective of the orderly, the warrior was tall, on the higher end of six feet, six inches, wild-haired, and muscular beneath the hospital gown - and approaching, holding an IV stand like a weapon. The orderly stammered quickly, "Don't.. don't hurt me.."
The warrior tilted his head in shock at being able to understand. His voice was rusty - both with years of drink and weeks of disuse - as he fought it into use. "..where am I?"
"You're in Chiron Memorial Hospital. You've been unconscious for three days." The orderly spoke soothingly.
"What happened to my hands?" The note in his voice was plaintive, fierce, on the edge of rage.
"You were bleedng to death when we found you. Your hands were bloody stumps, and we thought you would.. appreciate new ones." No sense of a lie - neither magical nor telltale.
The warrior gritted his teeth and turned to more practical concerns. "Where, precisely, is Chiron Memorial Hospital?"
"Paragon City?" The warrior shook the IV stand menacingly. "The United States?" Another shake. "Earth?" A look of irritated frustration crossed the warrior's face, and the orderly snapped, "Look, I have no idea what you want to know!"
The warrior sighed, and set down the stand. "...get me a map, and you can explain this world to me?"
"...so. The only monsters are those forged by humanity's selfishness?" The conversation had moved past "Billions?", and on to metahumanity.
"It's not that simple.." The orderly argued.
The doctor that came in during the conversation grumbled, "It seems like it, some days." He quickly changed the subject. "Look, if you're ambulatory, I'm supposed to make sure you get something. The city wanted to repay you for taking the shards of whatever it was that we found in you-"
"My spear."
"-yeah, that. They'd never seen whatever it was before, and they.. probably won't want to give it back for a while, even if they could manage to reassemble it." He stepped over to the phone, as the warrior wandered to the window and peered out over the concrete and glass of his new home. "Bring the stuff up for Mr. Iguana." The warrior's sharpened ears noted the suppressed laugh in that. So they knew.
"They -will- give it back, yes?"
The doctor spread his hands, unnoticed by the warrior shifting position to take in this foreign landscape. "Maybe. And... there she is." The door opened, and the nurse wheeled in a tray, with four weapons, all of medieval design. "They thought you had a thing for archaic weaponry.." The warrior idly ran a hand over the two swords on the tray, ignoring the mace and the axe.
"No spear, no shield.."
"The city doesn't trust some people with that sort of thing, I guess." The warrior's hand curled around the hilt of the scabbarded eastern blade, extending it a handsbreadth, as the doctor continued, "The hilts of all of them have been reinforced and slightly magnetized, I'm told, to accomodate your hands.." The warrior opened his hand, and grunted approvingly when the weapon did not fall away.
"This one will be acceptable." He pushed the weapon back into the scabbard,and moved toward the window - faster, now, with a purpose.
"Wait a minute, what are you doing?"
"I am going to get into a fight, the likes of which I have not seen in nearly a century." The warrior's skin darkened, gleaming metallic, now, a slight shimmer springing up..
"But.. the City... registration.."
"They will wait." There was a certain note of exultation in the warrior's voice, as he pondered the window.
"How about your name, so I can call ahead and let them know you'll be coming?" A note of desperation, in the doctor's voice.
The warrior brought his scabbarded sword across his body, setting one foot on the windowsill. "Tell them that I am Dalantia, and they had best stay out of my way until I am ready!" A joyful laugh, and in a flash of silvery motion, the window shattered, and he was gone, hospital robe fluttering to the floor. The doctor rushed to the window - a winged form landed on the ground, and took a great leap.. and was gone.
Dawncaller - The Circle of Dawn
Too many blasted alts to list, but all on Virtue.