This is not a final notice, BTW. I will be playing until sunset (mostly on Moonsun [closest to 50] and Dynamo Jr), I will be saving these (and more) characters and I will be actively pushing a continuation of the game in some form. I sincerely hope this is not the last of these characters and will never give up hope.
Saved for archiving. Thank you very much for sharing, blackjak!
Thank you very much, Lydia. Had not seen this archive. Plenty of reading for later, huh? Hope you liked my little stories.
Though I did not read them all, I found the ones I did read to be quite enjoyable. Well done writing indeed.
These are the RP stories of my characters endings on the fateful day of sunset. It is a bit long and there are pics. I know this isn't the RP forum, but I don't have posting privileges. If anyone is still modding here, feel free to move the post (although I will not be able to respond or edit it afterwards
). These are a bit spur of the moment so there may be errors. It starts with one of my mains (and faves) and ends with my latest (made a few weeks ago).
Atlas Park: Dynamo Jr.
Dynamo Jr had been feeling melancholy for weeks. He sat on the roof of the capital building in Atlas Park looking at the picture again. It was a black and white photo of his mentor, Dyna-Man, and him on a ship. Most likely the one that took them to Normandy in 1944. It had to be before they got there because they were happy and smiling. That changed after D-Day. He couldn't remember the name of the ship. He couldn't remember a lot these days. The damned Nazi mad scientist seems to have taken that away from him along with everything else.
He still couldn't wrap his head around it. Time travel. Those Ouroboros fellas. Aliens. Statesman dying for Pete's sake! It was too much for an 18 year old from 1944 Boston in the good ol' U.S.of A. to handle.
He tucked the photo back in to his belt pouch and took out the other object that rested there. It was a gold cross with an eagle on a ribbon of star spangled blue. Distinguished Service Cross. It looked brand new. He was told it was awarded posthumously and placed in the museum here in Atlas Park. It was his. Dyna-Man's is still there.
He shoved the medal back into the pouch as he stood and swiped the back of his gloved hand across his eyes. As his eyes cleared up, he looked up as a gust of wind unfurled the flag atop the dome of the capital roof. He was suddenly bursting with pride at what he had accomplished before and after the unfortunate event in the far distant past. He climbed to the top of the dome and saluted .
Skyway City: Crimson Fury
Crimson Fury, eyes flaming with energy, is flying through Skyway City to answer a PPD distress call. She is just about to pour on speed when something collides with her. Something very hard. She falls, fighting the sudden pain and dizziness that threatens to black her out.
At the last second she arrests her fall, catches a metal link fence and cartwheels into an ungraceful roll and misses a nearby building by inches.
She steadies herself against the wall as she tries to stand, but falls back gasping when she tries to put weight on her apparently broken leg.
"Privet, malenʹkiy svechu," <Hello, little candle.> a deep, mechanical voice says from the end of the short alleyway.
Her eyes fly open in horror. "Who ?" The voice! The unmistakable mechanical Russian voice that she has only heard in nightmares from so long ago. The fear that she was starting to forget.
"Chto? Vy menya ne pomnite? Ha! Dumayu vy delayete. Vedʹ kto smotrit, kak ya?" <What? You do not remember me? Ha! I think you do. Because, who looks like me?> The tall man stepped into the weak streetlight glare. She gasped.
"Ya poznal luchshiye dni, imeyut ya net?" <I have seen better days, have I not?>
It was Grigor, or what was left of the awful man. His metallic skull was completely visible and dented and streaked with rust and old scars. The portions of his face that were still human were blotchy and diseased looking. Various mechanical parts peaked from within his torn heavy Russian winter overcoat. His cybernetic eyes were red coals in his face. More than ever he looked more machine than man.
"Mnogoye sluchilosʹ posle kak ty ushel, malo matcha. Tak mnogo. Nikolai poslal menya dlya vas, tochno tak zhe kak drugiye." <Much has happened since you left, little match. So much. Nikolai has sent me for you, in case you have not guessed. Like the others.>
The others! The other S.O.B.R. metahumans? The Redstars!? "Moy Bog! Eto byl ty, Grigor?" <My God! It was you, Grigor?>
"Da. U menya net vybora, Natalia." <Yes. I have no choice, Natalia.>
"Nyet!", she yells as fear fuels her nuclear fires so that she becomes white hot.
Grigor, the Agent R, laughs
Grandville: Scorpio X
Chaos.
Bodies in Arachnos armor fly into the walls of the alleyway. One recovers quickly and fires a shot at the figure in the darkness. There is a glint of chitinous armor as the blast is sloughed off like water. The figure raises a spike gauntlet and fires a beam of his own. The Arachnos soldier is thrown twenty feet away to smash into another wall for the last time.
Another soldier rises unsteadily to his feet. The figure motions in his direction and the soldier falls to his knees, his energy draining from his body. The helpless soldier looks on as his commander stands slowly and brings up his own weapon.
"Who the hell do you think you are?", the commander growls. He fires and the figure moves far faster than he should, sidestepping the blast. In a blink of an eye, he has the commanders helmeted face in his outstretched hand. Without a sound, the figure, who the soldier now sees is not even as big as his commander, pauses. His gauntleted had glows and the commander is unceremoniously blown to the dirty pavement.
The figure slowly turns to him now and calmly walks to him and crouches in close. The figure's helmet breaks a beam of light from the streetlamp, showing him a red skull. The helmet tilted as if curious before retreating back into the shadow as the figure stood.
Looking past the figure he saw the commander had landed facing him. His helmet smoldered with a mark. The stylized "m" of the zodiac sign of scorpio combined with an X.
"I'll be damned," he thought, "He answered his question after all."
The last think he saw was a dark fist in his view plate .
Brickstown: White Talon
She was supposed to meet him here an hour ago. She was late. Again.
He looked at his watch and nervously checked his swords again. Ballista was young and inexperienced. He should never have agreed to teaming with her, but she needed a mentor who could teach and protect her. Naturals had to stick together in this world of meta-humans.
He would give her another thirty minutes, then start a search for her. She had to be between here and the monorail station or in Atlas Park, where she tended to hang out. Unless she'd gotten into trouble.
He checked his weapons again. And tried her cellphone. Nothing.
"Ok. That's it.", he said as he took out his grapple gun and fired it at the top of the building under which he had been standing.
As he reeled himself up to the roof, he noticed something odd about the sky
Cap au Diable: Gosuto
A slight figure in black steps, literally, from the shadows of a brick building in Cap au Diable. After glancing around cautiously, she continues a conversation with no one.
"Watashi wa, akuma o anata o shin'yō shite inai." <I do not trust you, demon.>
The small girl stills as if listening to someone. "Masaka! Mitemawaru! Mondai wa mattaku arimasen! Anata ni kuppuku suru riyū wa arimasen! Yakusoku o kikitakunai! Watashi no tamashī wa watashi no monodesu! Watashi " <No! Look around! There is no problem! There is no reason to succumb to you! I'm tired of your promises! My soul is mine! I >
She stops in mid sentence as if cut off by another and puts her hands to her ears as if trying to block a voice that isn't there. "Teishi! Damare! Kurayami o osoreru? Anata? Akuma de? Anata wa shadōga! Anata wa sore o kangei suru "<Shut up! Afraid of the darkness? You? The devil? You are the shadow! You welcome it >
Again she is cut off by unseen voices. She seems to relax. "Sora o mite ?" <Look at the sky..?>
She looks up at the darkening night sky. "Akuma wa nani o osoreru nodarou?" <What do demons fear?>
..
Croatoa: The Mystic Kirin
Kirin didn't know why she was compelled to head to the back of the library on the UPCC campus. She usually stuck to the elemental and eastern sections on the second floor. Her feet led her all the way to the back corner under one of the magik torch sconces that never went out and were never hot. She had to learn that trick. She'd heard it was very old magik.
"Fiction?", she said aloud as she read the sign on the shelves. She had never had much time for fiction, especially with so much to learn here. As her eyes scanned the shelves dubiously, one large tome struck her as being obviously out of place. "Hmmm "
It was much larger than the mix of hard and paperback novels (mostly by one author, curiously) and was bound in rich leather with strange greenish gold leaf designs inlaid. It was beautiful. There was no words on the cover, so she opened to the first written page. Title was Affinitatem Natura by Misty Valdemar. She had never heard of the author, but nature magik! Right up her alley. Excitement ran through her as she turned the page.
Just then, the light dimmed sharply. She looked up at the dimming sconce, irritated. It figured, right when she found a great book, the fire would die in the magik sconces .
Wait a minute. The fire was going out in a magik sconce put here by masters and hexed to never, ever go out. What in the worlds would make that happen?
Talos Island: Sabre Kat
Ugh. That last fight was the last straw for her pulled hamstring. Amazing how you can be in the middle of a Nemesis invasion attempt one week with nothing but the usual bruising and soreness and then the next go to kick a punk in the gut and totally pull a hammy. Maybe she should take a break for a bit. Spend some time with Trevor. Recuperate.
She sat on the facade of the building she had swung onto. Trevor. It felt like ages since they even went out to dinner. He was always up waiting for her when she got home, no matter what time that was. She could tell he was watching the news stations even though a movie would be playing when he switched the set off at her return. He worried. She worried. He was a saint for sure.
What was it they were talking about last night? Oh yeah. She had been on the news. A quick pan of a recent fight with a group of other heroes. Just long enough to show her launch into a spinning attack with her sais. She laughed a little. He had cheered and paused the shot (he had Tivo'd it). She had said something about the costume making her butt look big to hide her embarrassment. He had looked at her like she was a moron. The rest of the night made her smile even more. Actually, she thought the costume looked great and her form was pretty dang good for an impromptu move.
She dug out her slim cellphone and dialed her husband's number. He answered on the 2nd ring. "Hey, hon. How's it goin' out there tonight?"
She smiled. "I miss you, Trev."
"What? No baddies to bang around? Sounds boring. Coming home soon?"
"Yeah", she said grunting softly as her tight hamstring protested as she stood. "Yep. 'Bout time I'd say "
She looked up at the quickly darkening night sky. "Trevor something's wrong I ..."
Kings Row: Redwing Blackbird
Five Trollkin gather together in a vacant lot under the shadows of a nearby abandoned building negotiating their deal.
"This best stuff. Make you RAGE! He he he."
"Me like rage."
The information seemed to be correct. The Trolls were making inroads into the Row's drug trade. Who was their target audience? Not the usual Circle of Thorns or Clockwork. Had to be the new thing the Skulls were getting into. Idiots.
A shadow seems to detach itself from the building's roofline. There is a flash of red amidst the blackness as it gracefully uses the eave to flip itself feet first to land on top of the Troll holding the superadine sample.
One.
Straightening up from his crouch atop the dealer, the black-clad man lands a massive uppercut to the nearest of the group.
Two.
Using the momentum of his punch, he spins and delivers a devastating side kick to the midsection of another.
Three.
By this time the other two are almost ready for action. One tries to grab the hooded man. His mistake. His hold is easily reversed and his head meets the brick wall. Hard.
Four.
The hero turns to face the final Troll and is greeted with a steadily lowering laugh/growl.
Damn. The superadine.
The fifth Trollkin was just dropping the sample container, but was already almost triple the size he was just moments ago. It was good stuff. The very stuff he had been looking for.
The "Supatroll" thug came at him, swinging his massive arms ponderously. His balance was all wrong and he could barely control his newfound strength. He was easy to dodged again and again. Punches and kicks barely phased him, though. This had to end quickly.
The next heavily telegraphed punch the Troll threw was too low, allowing Redwing to use the trunk of an arm as a springboard. Tucking into a controlled flip over the Troll's head, he pulled his grapple line and snared the big, ugly thing's neck. It took less time than he had figured it would to hang off the line and choke out the big guy. Go figure.
Five.
After searching the Trolls, he only found the regular, bargain basement variety of superadine on them. The sample was the only one of the new kind. It made sense. This was obviously a very strong batch of new stuff. The Troll who'd taken it was still super sized even while unconscious. That meant a few samples spread out here and there, which meant expensive and limited supplies. No outbreak anytime soon then.
It also meant his only lead was now out cold. He sighed. Time to get to the boring part of the job. He bound all of the Trolls (using 3 of his larger restraints on the Supatroll), and drug the dealer into an adjacent alley. Once there he reached into his belt again and pulled out a vial of smelling salts and a small, potent taser. Time to get to work.
A scream in the distance made him pause
The Hollows: Pink.Eye
Bingo!
Iris smiled to herself as she hovered over the dirty parking lot. After flying around for three hours, she'd finally found who she'd been looking for. "Flamin'" Freddy was leaning on his wreck of a car surrounded by his usual cronies, "Static" Stan and the big guy known only as Pebbles. She just called them the three dunce-keteers.
She lowered herself slowly behind Freddy with her arms crossed. "'S'up, fellas?" She smiled when they all jumped in surprise.
"Heya, Frederick." She could tell that the use of his full name confused the crap out of him. No shock that he didn't recognize a former girlfriend. Yet.
"What the ?" He squinted at her from a defensive croutch. "Pinky?" She could almost hear the gears of his brain squealing in protest. "I'll be damned, fellas! It's ol' Pinky. Damn, girl! You looking' finer than eva'."
She repressed the urge to vomit convulsively.
Pebbles squinted his tiny eyes in his melon of a head as he looked at her. "Pinky? Ah, hell no! Tha shawty wit the damn pink eyes?" At this he burst out laughing. Static joined in heartedly and Freddy half hid his snickering mouth. This was gonna make things easier.
She dropped to the roof of the car heavily, letting her powers rise. Her glowing eyes cast the area in a pinkish light as energy formed around her hands. "That's right, a-hole. Guess what I've been up to lately."
They shut up. Their eyes looked like saucers in the pink light of her gaze. They all looked like they would piss themselves at any moment.
"Run.", she calmly said.
They did.
She heard the scuffle as they rounded the corner and ran into the team of cops she had seen there.
Unable to control the laughter that doubled her over, she hopped of the hood and leaned on the car for support. Wiping the tears that ran down her face from the sheer hilarity of their fear, she took a deep breath and thought, "Damn! That was good."
The dim light of the Hollows dimmed even more
Steel Canyon: Shield Marshall
Shield Marshall flew casually over Steel Canyon's skyscrapers, his flight belt softly humming. This was his city. He loved it. Not that he didn't love Galaxy City when he played for the Stars, but that was before they traded him. I mean, it was hard seeing Galaxy destroyed and all. He was lucky to have been traded before all that, really. Feelings change though, and Steel was where he grew up anyway.
He was feeling good. He'd just knocked some Outcast heads and saved a poor woman who was bein' messed with. Not a bad looker, either. He smiled to himself. He was finally getting this hero thing. At first he'd only wanted the fame, money and glory like the kind he had gotten being a star football player. Before he'd opened his big mouth and told the news reporters how much of a no-talent D-bag his quarterback was and how he was twice the player than any of his teammates. Getting traded to the Steelers wasn't horrible, but becoming a pariah in sports was. Now it didn't really matter so much.
It was strange really. He didn't really feel regret at "borrowing" the power suit from the cape that fell out of the sky that day. Really, if he thought about it, he'd done him a favor. He wasn't very good with it apparently. He was almost killed, after all. Came crashing out of the sky, through a fence and straight into that wall. A menace, really. Sure he was injured. Sure his mediporter obviously wasn't working. Just walking bad luck, really. He'd probably saved his life by calling the ambulance. He could explain why he was half naked in the gutter.
Well, maybe a little regret
He had changed, though! He only ever saw himself in a couple of news reports (that one didn't count because the reporter was obviously on drugs or something. The mayor should never have parked in that spot. It was a handicapped spot for Pete's sake!), but he found he didn't care so much. He wasn't paid. He didn't have a million dollar endorsement deal with his million dollar smile plastered on stuff. It was weird! He really didn't mind anymore. Steve Christopher, former pig-skin powerhouse turned bad-guy-headknocker. Whoda thunk it? He laughed to himself as the cosmos blinked .
St. Martial: Bloodhunter
It'd been a long few days for the assassin/mercenary named Bloodhunter. A long, strange few days that began when he entered the base of his newest employers, the V.S.T.F, and found it completely destroyed. It looked as if it had been done with explosives. Strong ones. He had poked around the rubble only to find a single unharmed object. An, apparently, extremely well made holoprojector. He touched the play button and a laser shot out and scanned his face, making his mask's optical filter kick in suddenly and causing him to drop the projector instinctively.
The mask's filters cleared up nearly instantly. Before him was a small projection of Kazimer, leader of the V.S.T.F. " Bloodhunter ", an obviously mechanical voice spoke from the integrated speakers on the projector, followed by Kazimer's recorded voice. "This message is mean't for whoever finds it first. Sorry if that bruises your precious ego."
Bloodhunter just shook his head. How did he get mixed up with this bunch? The holo flickered and continued.
"If you are seeing this it means one of three things", the hologram held up it's hand and ticked off a finger for each item, "The situation (whatever it is) has become untenable, I have disappeared with no trace, or someone has killed me, possibly even you, but I doubt it."
He couldn't really find fault in that logic. Of course, he didn't really know what Kazimer was capable of
"So! Since you 'found' this message," he said, making air quotations, "A hefty sum has been placed in your account as a retainer for a final job. A briefing will follow this message. That is all." The hologram swatted an imagined button and vanished. A memory chip spat out of a recess in the projector.
The credit was in his account as promised and the chip contained detailed info the man who was coming out of the Ice Palace casino across the street. Why this man was targeted he didn't know. Sure he was connected, sure he was generally a nasty character, but the fat ******* wasn't any different than a thousand others he knew of here. He did have a dirty little gambling habit, though. Maybe he owed Kaz fifty bucks on a game. He certainly had security. 24/7. Excellent, really.
Whatever. He wasn't paid to ponder. He was paid to take him out.
The only time there wasn't a 300 pound piece of meat orbiting him was right now. Hard to climb into an ostentatious gold limo with a gorilla in front of you. Plus it took the porker several seconds to squeeze into the large door.
He drew his the string of his custom bow and held it. One more breath and hold
The special string barely made a twang as he released the arrow. The side of beef security man obligingly stepped away to hold the door and glance down the street. No one even saw the blur of the arrow as it skipped on the roof of the tacky limo and imbedded itself into the left eye socket of his prey.
Kill shot. As usual.
He smiled as the world darkened .
Pocket D: Black Jak
He did not know why he came, but he did it anyway. He could have avoided this indefinitely, but he did not want to. Now here he was, walking across the dance floor of a inter-dimensional club just to talk to a woman. He decided he must be crazy.
He steadily climbed the ramp to the so called 'red side' half of the strobe lit space wondering why she would pick here, of all places, to 'wind down'. A few slit-eyed glances were tossed his way as he passed the bar. Perhaps he should not have worn the black and blue outfit that famously broadcast him as Black Jak, the british crime buster. Of course, his Armani suit would have stuck out just as much.
Suddenly there she was. Beautiful as always. Long blonde hair, impeccable style and perfect, aristocratic features. Exactly the same as the last time he had seen her. When was it? The National or the Tate for an exhibit opening? Perhaps a benefit? An auction of old tomes at Bloomsbury? He could not remember. He did remember her, however.
She was alone, thank God. He stopped at her table.
'Hello, Mercedes.'
'Hello Jack', she said with a quirked brow and slight grin.
He looked down at the tight black and blue leather costume he was wearing. 'I am a bit underdressed, aren't I?'
'Understatement of the week, dear,' she said swirling her drink.
'Yes. Well. I knew you hung about with the odd sort, but I never thought I would see you on this side of the club. Or in the club at all, really.'
'I'm just here to unwind a bit. It's quieter on this side.'
'Ah', he said fiddling with his glove. 'Yes. I suppose so. Well then, it is great to see you again. You look marvelous, as always. I hear you are staying with the Midnighters, yes? Perhaps I might stop by and visit in more usual attire?'
She smiled, 'Yes, Jack. If you have the time, that is.'
The half polite barb bit a tad. They had seen each other a bit in London, but he never had the time to spend on a proper steady lady friend, what with the team and all. 'I'm sorry things never worked out before '
Something caught his eye. Someone had fallen to the floor rather unexpectedly. The middle of the floor that is. 'My god! Did DJ Zero just fall?'
Chaos broke out
Pocket D: Double Sixxes
"Nigel! No, listen Nigel. You've got to get us this club. It's slammin'!"
Francis Luna, a.k.a. Double Sixxes, lead singer of the British pop-step band FrancisReed stood on the balcony overlooking the dance floor of Pocket D yelling into a cellphone to be heard over the bass heavy dance music and loud conversations at the crowded bar.
"What? Where is it? Oh! Ummm I dunno really. It's another dimension, innit? You know. DJ Zero's thing. He's a real life Dr. Who, eh?", She laughed. Nigel was a big fan of the Doctor. "What? I don't know how the phone works then! Don't complicate things, Nigel."
She turned to look at Zero in his usual spot hovering at the center of the dance floor. "How does he do that all night?'", she thought to herself.
As if in answer to her internal question, he suddenly crumpled to the ground and lay there, unmoving. Confusion was immediate. Zero never touched the floor. The music stopped.
"Nigel. I'll have to ring you back.", she said, absently putting away her phone.
The D went dark .
Atlas Park: Quantum Stranger
Freedom!
Michael Neumann loved flying! Especially at night above the parks and skyscrapers of Atlas Park. The cold air barely touched him through his shields. The howling wind of his passage through the air unheard as he listened to Radio Paragon in his earpiece.
Up here he could forget about the bad things that had happened since his experiment; the speed of the lock down at his Crey supported lab, the close calls during his escape from their jackbooted and power armored thugs, the constant running and hiding, the fear of discovery of his thinly faked death. No. Up here in the sky he had his confidence back, growing with his newly acquired powers. Yes, his experiment was definitely a success.
He turned into a vertical climb. 'Ha!', he said out loud with a smile on his face, 'Let them try to follow me up here!'
The clouds parted and the stars were suddenly brighter than streetlights. The full moon hung huge in the black sky like a giant beach ball. He knew scientifically that there was very little atmosphere here, but it didn't matter. His shields held in enough to stay for a minute or so. He spun slowly in a circle with his arms spread as if to embrace the universe that spread out before him. Such an immense expanse. So many suns. So many possible worlds. How many were there in Orion over there? How many in the Pleiades? How many over there in
His brow furrowed and his arms dropped loosely. Was that a blank spot in the sky? Something must be there, blocking the light no more blank spots were forming they were acting as one! God! Another invasion! It had to be. He had to get word to the heroes below!
Suddenly all the stars went black
Evolution-X Base: Moonsun
Moonsun was pulling monitor duty in the massive Evolution-X base, his home since transferring from Evolution-X: Japan. Things were not quite normal today. There was a disturbing pattern forming, but he could not put things together. He flipped through the many feeds in the com hub: riots in the middle east, violence in Africa, Nemesis spottings, general confusion. The normal stuff really, but where why wasn't there a major villain report? It was as if the Rogue Isles had shut down for the day.
Something was coming. He could feel it.
He scanned near space. No evidence of Rikti or Shivans.
He had a bad feeling. Maybe that was all it was.
His introspection was interrupted by the lights flickering down the hall. One by one they were turning off. His brow furrowed as the control room went dark. He was not afraid of the dark. The dark comforted. The dark healed and protected.
This wasn't the ordinary dark, however.
He started to scream .
Ouroboros: Stellar Girl
The air shimmered over the large fountain in the center of the Ouroboros platform. A red-haired woman in a sleek red and white outfit fell into the water with a splash and a surprised gasp.
Sputtering, she swam to the side and pulled herself out. Her outfit appeared to have not even gotten wet in the incident, but her hair was hanging wet in her face. She huffed and blew on a piece of hair that was hanging across her nose. It didn't move.
She squinted her eyes and her body was surrounded briefly in crackling, near transparent flames. Satisfied that her hair was now dry she tossed her head to settle it into something resembling order and approached the nearest person.
"Where is Mender Silos?"
The Pilgrim, who had been helping a visiting hero but had stopped to stare at the disturbance of her arrival, pointed to the shrine of the Pillar. "Up the stairs, where he is usually at I'm sorry. Have you visited here before? How did you come to open a portal above the fountain?"
She scrunched her face at the questions. "No time. A Mender should know that much, at least.", she said and walked off in a hurried huff.
The Pilgrim looked at the hero he'd been helping. They both shrugged.
The woman ran up the long, winding staircase with Ouroboros agents looking after her in puzzlement. "Silos! Mender Silos!", she yelled on the way.
At the top, Mender Silos was waiting. He looked at her with a puzzled expression. "Can I help you, dear?"
"There is no time, Mender! There is no time!", she said grabbing his arm with a pained expression.
He smiled, " We have all the time in the universe, dear. Calm yourself. What is the problem?"
She tugged his arm in frustration, "No! You don't get it! I am here from another shard to warn you! THERE IS NO MORE TIME!"
She turned him around to look over the balcony and pointed. A black spot had formed in the space surrounding the platform.
"And I am too late ."
Silos was dumbfounded.
There really was no more time.
Thanks to all the citizens.