An Outsider

VIGILANCE: Blood & Justice - A Superhuman Roleplay (Always Open)

Aaaand posted. And with that the Sucker for Pain arc is concluded. Good job @Superboy

VIGILANCE: Blood & Justice - A Superhuman Roleplay (Always Open)

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L I S A M A R I E W A L K E R

_{Los Paradiso | 02:29AM}

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_{Interacting with: Claire “Noctis” Quinn (@Superboy)}

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Like a runaway sixteen-wheeler that’s had its brake lines cut, Fury flew towards the criminals, right arm cocked back ready to do some smashing. Mere yards away she threw that fist forwards in the biggest, wildest haymaker you’ve ever seen in your life, powerful enough to smash concrete, quicker than Ali’s hey-day jab. It was a fight ending blow, no doubts about it. Anyone on the receiving end of that rocket would spend the next four weeks in a hospital bed, then the two after that suffering painful dental reconstructive work.

All that said, she missed.

The punch went wide, like really wide, and Fury hit nothing but air. To be fair to her and her efforts, she hit the air hard, and if the air cared about things like that, then it was going to be freaking sore, but it still couldn’t be labelled a successful assault. Fortunately, her inexpert strike became an impromptu shoulder-barge as she bodily barrelled into her intended target, sheer momentum throwing the man, a Third Street Roughneck by the looks of his gang colours, from his feet with a shocked yelp. Fury paused a moment to gape at the fallen man, taking note of his swiftly reddening, acne ridden cheeks, and the look of clenched pain on his face.

My first conquest. It’s really happening! I’m doing it! Though she might have been a bit quick in congratulating herself, as crew-cut took her foes moments inaction to sock her in the jaw. Commendable initiative really, but Fury was a little beyond simple punches now, the blow glancing across her face, though without doing any real damage, unless you counted how bad it hurt crew-cut’s fist. The vigilante responded with a two-handed shove, inexpert yet effective, the gangmember flying from her feet hitting the street hard some five meters away, rolling into a tumbled heap. Oh gosh, got to remember how strong I am. I could kill someone if I’m not careful. Did ‘Man of Steel’ teach you nothing?


“Fuck her up!” Shrieked the tattooed fatty who Fury had so recently shown that, no, she hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew by coming here. Seemed he wanted some revenge by proxy, seeing as with his injured leg it didn’t look like he was going to be going toe-to-toe with the vigilante anytime soon. The two-other bad-guys still standing didn’t need telling twice, and leapt into the attack with wordless cries.

A boot thunked into Fury’s midriff, bouncing painfully from the hype-hardened flesh, though the vigilante reacted quickly, grabbing the leg before the kick could be retracted, and gripping it by the foot and under the knee, used it as leverage to twist the Roughneck from his feet, driving him face first into the unyielding street, a hollow thwock reverberating through the night as teeth cracked against concrete. It looked like it might have been an esoteric Judo throw, but really it was just the knee-jerk reaction of a desperate girl, which probably wouldn’t have worked if she hadn’t been three times as strong as a full-grown man.

The second fighter had circled around her while this was happening, thinking to exploit her blind spot while she rearranged his ally’s facial features. Clasping both hands together, he delivered a double axe handle strike at the top of her spine, where neck met torso. Fury squawked aloud, more in shock than actual pain, and staggered a pace or two, though managed to keep on her feet. He antagonist went to follow up, though before he could press his advantage the vigilante spun on her heel, right arm outstretched to club into her enemies’ cheek. Succeeding where the gang member failed, she threw another couple wild punches before delivering a crunching kick that slammed into the man’s shin. He squealed in pain, hurling himself from Fury then scrabbling away as quick as his battered body would carry him, deciding that in this case, discretion was the better part of valour.

He needn’t have bothered, as Fury’s attentions were now fixed on his friends, as more and more of the combatants were noticing the mess she was making of their crews, and began to make peace with their rivals to hurl themselves at the vigilante, screaming threats and curses, raining blows down upon the girl. Fists and bottles smashed against her, a barrage that would hammer even the greatest of prize-fighters to their knees. Not Fury though. She’d done enough cowering tonight. She was going to take her likes and come back swinging. Anything they could dish out, well she was going to weather it, and hand back more besides.

She didn’t fight clean, she didn’t fight smart, she didn’t even fight all that dirty. She just fought wild, fists swinging to and thro, kicking out at anything moving, stomping on feet and knees, and anything that could be stomped. At one point she was aware of someone latching on to her back, arms wrapped around her neck like they hoped they could choke her out. She dealt with that by spinning on the spot, as fast as she could, a two-hundred-pound man hanging on to her for dear life as she pirouetted, the sight a disturbing cross between a ballerina performance and a rodeo drill. Eventually it got too much for the bad-guy, his grip failing him as he was sent spinning in a barrel roll. Good thing too, as Lisa was just on the verge of being sick. No time to be green around the gills though, as her foes were closing in once more.

Then the shots rang out. Four distinct cracks, loud even above the shouts, the swears, the constant pitter-patter of raindrops. Four gang-members fell to the ground, three screaming, one dreadfully quiet. For a moment everyone froze, confusion gripping everyone present.

“They’re packing heat!”

“Fucking go, run!”

“You shit-sucking Thirds are fucking dead when we come back, you hear me, cold-cunting-corpse dead!”

In moments the turf war was over, Third Street Roughnecks and the Welcome Crew deciding that between a super powered vigilante and a hail of bullets, it just wasn’t worth sticking around. A few, more committed and tenacious than their friends, got a few last knocks in for good measure before high-tailing it, and a handful slowed their own retreat to drag some of their injured away, including two who had been shot by the newcomer packing heat, though once all was said and done the clear majority had made good their escape, leaving only a few groaning wounded, and one or two frozen in shock.

Like Lisa.

She couldn’t take her eyes off the one man who had fallen and remained silent. He hadn’t gotten up. No one had dragged him away. His eyes were open wide to the dark night sky and the driving rain falling down upon him, and she couldn’t help but think ‘why aren’t you blinking.’ But she knew why he wasn’t blinking. Deep down she knew, but she couldn’t even countenance that it had happened. So instead she stared, and wondered, and ignored the truth. It quickly got too much, and she had to tear her gaze away.

Look at the shooter, she told herself, look and take note. Details. You need to know who you’re dealing with. It was sound reasoning, but it was just an excuse. Action so as not to allow herself time to think about what had just happened.

The woman, for the shooter was a female, was a little taller and heavier than Lisa herself by the looks of things, though some of that extra weight may have been due to the leather trenchcoat she was wearing. Two pistols were still sitting in her tight grasp. Could I survive a gun shot? Lisa wondered, a tight worm of fear coiling through her gut. She had the ballistics vest, of course, but she didn’t even know if it worked. She’d got it online, for petes sake. For all she knew it was filled with pillow-stuffing and good intentions. If the mystery woman opened fire again, Lisa could be in some very real trouble.

She remained silent for a few moments, just staring at the newcomer. It didn’t last though, as eventually she had to say something. She told her self it was because they couldn’t just stand in the rain all night, having a stare-down. The real reason was her thoughts were starting to catch up with her again, and the weight of that man lying eyes-open in the street behind her was building higher and higher.

“You shot them.” She stated. Stupid. Scared. She couldn’t have sounded less like a hardened vigilante in that moment if she tried. Right then, she just couldn’t care about that. She was scared, and she was feeling more and more stupid by the moment.

“Why? How could you?” A simple enough question, and probably one with a simple enough answer, but to Lisa the answer mattered. It mattered a lot.

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_{I'm dying slow but the devil tryna rush me,
see I'm a fool for pain}

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S U C K E R F O R P A I N

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Status: RESOLVED
Time of Day: Night
Weather: Rain

Mass Effect: Underworld

@PrivateVentures Ok, that's something I guess. Try not to just update and increase the suits capabilities without running it past either @MrDidact or I either.

Mass Effect: Underworld

@PrivateVentures You might be seriously overestimating the skills of some SA engineers to replace and update both an arm and a leg on an experimental, one of a kind, prototype warsuit - that they'd probably never even heard of before - in less than twenty-four hours, while also fitting a new VI system in place. I doubt that his suit is modular, so I imagine they'd have to make new limbs from scratch, and I only said the engineers did patch repairs. Like using their omni-tools minifacturing abilities to do some temporary repairs to allow him to walk.

VIGILANCE: Blood & Justice - A Superhuman Roleplay (Always Open)

It's a good length, don't worry bout it ^^

@SgtEasy

As the actress said to the Bishop.

Mass Effect: Underworld

@BlackSam3091Assuming they have that software on their Omni-tool then yeah there'd be nothing stopping them.

@Leos Klien

Fantastic.

Mass Effect: Underworld

@BlackSam3091The templates aren't explosive, he codes the detonators into them so they're safe.
But yes his drugs are laying down there.

@Leos Klien

Yes, I read that in your bio. What I meant is that the opportunity for someone else to use those templates to create their own explosives is there, yes?

Marvel REBORN (ALWAYS OPEN!)

The Heir to Thunder

_{Prince Faen Lokison}

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_{Interacting with: @BlackPanther}

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Sharp steel tore through the air, uncomfortably close to Faen’s face, and if it hadn’t been for his half-breed enhanced speed and reflexes he would have been wearing a knife shaped hat by now.

“Hey, watch the goods lady! Crime enough that you’re invading our planet, but if you were to damage these good looks, well that would be unforgivable!” He didn’t even know why he was talking, he was so damn terrified. Somehow the words still sounded even and calm, all while his heart was beating a tattoo and his back was swimming in cold sweat.

Somehow it worked in his favour, and the Dökkálfar halted her ‘kill-Faen-frenzy’ for a moment, relaxing slightly to give him another quizzical scan, her doe eyes trailing him from head to toe. It was slightly uncomfortable, but it gave him time to catch his breath, and begin to try and formulate a plan. Nothing was springing to mind, mores the pity.

“Hmm, you are an attractive male. I’d heard that all you Midgardians were pink, fleshy weaklings, but you have a spark of fire in your eyes. Perhaps if you surrender Thor will allow me to keep you as a pet.” There was a soft tug at the dark-elf’s lips, and Faen was getting the distinct impression that she was teasing him. Still, as offers went, it was a flattering one. Far better than being shish-kabobed, anyway.

“Well, to be fair I’m only half-urrkhHH!” He was interrupted mid-witty comment as the Dökkálfar exploded towards him, flinging herself through the air and twisting mid leap so that her booted foot hammered into Faen’s face. He hadn’t seen it coming, and took it all on the chin.

He really needed to take some boxing lessons or something, he realised as he hit the dirt.

Elsewhere the hound struggled slowly back to its feet, but was so groggy and slow to act that it was obvious that Ander’s brick attack had knocked the fight out of it for now. Ander’s moment of amazement proved that it may become his undoing though, as the bird-skeleton, which had managed to get back into the fight, soared towards him, it’s taloned feet gripping onto the mutant’s shoulders like a hawk snatching a rabbit. With powerful wingbeats, the monster climbed into the air, in seconds it was as high as the tops of the nearby buildings. It screeched in victory as it gained altitude, obviously meaning to drop Anders from a great height, and thereby killing him.

Back in the alleyway, the cocoon around the behemoth was beginning to crack.

Mass Effect: Underworld

Giles gave a sweeping motion of his hand as a gesture towards where had dropped it earlier, he could leave it... it didn't seem worth staying in this area just to pick up something he could easily replace.

@Leos Klien

Would this happen to be his satchel full of explosives templates and drugs?

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

Magnus Arhakaine

_{Location: The streets of Salaran
Interacting With: Kyra, Ntaj, and Nor}

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Both the huntress responded they were interrupted by a half-orc (who this time really was a half-orc) who described the situation succinctly, if not eloquently, then introduced himself as Ntaj.

Magnus took a moment to ponder Ntaj’s words, scratching at his beard absently as the rusty ol’ cogs in his head did their grinding. Undead in the forest, attacking the Orc tribes that had been assaulting Salarn? Now that was news. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that somebody out there was playing them. But who, and for what reason? Mysteries within mysteries, all conspiring to give Maggie the headache of a lifetime.

The headache wasn’t helped by Kyra. If she wasn’t the most boorish woman he’d ever had the increasing misfortune of coming across, he didn’t know who was. When you could learn a thing or two about social grace from a half-orc, then it was time to enrol yourself in an etiquette class. Yes, she and her compariots looked haggard and beaten, and they may have been tired, but that’s no excuse for being a dick. Well, maybe it was a little bit of an excuse to be a little bit of a dick, but Magnus’ was under the growing assumption that the huntress was always like this, superior and bad-tempered towards all and sundry. The growing desire was to snap back, fight fire with fire.

Easy now. Just like Pa always said, ‘a quick temper will make a fool of you soon enough’. He took a calming breath, unclenching the hands that he hadn’t realised had curled into fists. He glanced at Ntaj, deciding that maybe just the once it would be better to deal with the person who wasn’t in charge.

“Sarcasm, my that’s refreshing.” He couldn’t help growling at the huntress. He was still human, after all. “Nah, think I’ve spent enough time in your glowing company. Just let him know that the dead ain’t crawling outta their graves. Someones digging them out. Seems a wrinkle worth noting.” That said he turned to follow Ntaj back towards the tavern.

On the way they were accosted by a Dwarf, one who was apparently a barber, or at least seemed to be if his offer of a shave and a haircut was anything to go by. A look of mild disgust mingled with fear crossed Magnus’ features, and he took an unconscious back step from the Dwarf. Shave? Haircut? He’d spent months cultivating this beard, and his warriors braid was the work of years, a sign of his prowess and the pride he had in his sword skills. Like hell was he gonna let some eager little man hack away at them with a rusty razor! Besides, strangers with knives getting that close to my face is a big no-no for me.

He moved on to join the half-orc in the bar, and dropped a handful of coins, ordering himself another mead. This time he chose to give Ntaj sometime to feed and water himself before accosting him with questions. Might be judging Kyra a touch harsh. Maybe execution was my problem first time around.