AndyC

Titans

I can whip up an excuse for Robin to be in NY.

Titans

R O B I N

Name: Richard "Dick" Grayson
Age: 16
Base of Operations: Gotham City
Years of Active Experience: 5

Attributes & Abilities:

Abilities

Before his training with Batman, Dick Grayson was already exceptionally athletic, having spent his entire childhood training as a circus acrobat, as well as picking up a knack for sleight of hand, escape artistry, acting, and sneaking. Over the past five years, Dick has sharpened his mind and body to a degree he never thought possible. His strength, speed, stamina, and agility have been pushed to rival and surpass Olympic athletes. And he has extensively trained to master hand-to-hand combat, learning an extraordinarily dangerous mix of martial arts originally developed by the League of Shadows (though a decidedly less lethal version taught to him by Batman). While he is far from unbeatable or infallible, Robin's intense training and experience have made him a formidable force.

In addition to his skill and conditioning, Robin's capabilities are greatly enhanced with his gear. His suit, patterned after the Bat-suit, is a weave of Kevlar and Nomex, with a cape made of WayneTech proprietary 'Memory Cloth' that can deploy into a rigid glider or harden into an extra layer of protective armor, and hardened armor plating in the gauntlets and boots that provide added protection and allow for harder impacts in hand-to-hand combat. His boots contain advanced shock absorbers (backed by an internal exoskeleton underneath his main suit) that allow him to jump far higher than humanly possible and survive falls from several stories, so long as he lands on his feet. His mask contains infra-red sensors, telescopic capabilities up to 100x magnification, and an augmented-reality HUD that connects directly to the Bat-Computer, providing him with near-instant access to information and a powerful suite of hacking and cybersecurity tools.

While he has access to Batman's vast arsenal of crime-fighting equipment, his usual loadout consists of a pair of collapsible batons which also carry tasers for extra stopping power, a variety of Batarangs, a grapnel gun, and a copy of the famed Utility Belt. Robin's Belt typically carries smoke and flash bombs, small GPS trackers, flares, flexicuffs, lockpicks, a rebreather, a field first aid kit, and a secure flash drive.

Finally, Robin's vehicle of choice is the Red Bird, a smaller and faster variation of the Bat-Cycle. Built for extreme maneuverability at high speeds, the Red Bird has separate engines built into each of its omni-directional wheels, and a gyroscopic swiveling chassis that together allow for split-second changes of direction and make it nearly impossible to lose balance.

Character Synopsis:

Synopsis

Dick Grayson never had what most would call a "normal" childhood. His early life was spent traveling from city to city as part of Haly's Circus, the darling son of acrobats John and Mary Grayson. The Circus had fallen on hard times, as crowds dwindled in favor of more modern entertainment. To stay afloat, owner and ringmaster C.C. Haly had taken out exorbitant loans from the small-time gangster Tony Zucco, who pressured Haly and threatened his talent relentlessly to get back what he was owed.

The Grayson family, having to put their bodies through hellish physical training to perform for audiences that grew more and more apathetic every year, did the only thing they knew how to save the circus and give their son a chance at a better life: they would make him a star.

For a normal child, the regimen they put him through would have been considered cruel, even abusive, but Dick was a prodigy. He took to his exercises and his education like a duck to water, and excelled to a point that bordered on superhuman. He learned to tumble, to walk the tightrope, to swing on the flying trapeze, as well as how to perform classic Vaudevillian memory acts, solving fiendish puzzles and reciting Shakespeare while other children his age were still learning their shapes and colors. Before long the Flying Graysons had a new main attraction: the world’s youngest performing acrobat, the ‘Boy Wonder’ wowing audiences with incredible acrobatic displays by age six.

Within a few years, the novelty of Dick’s young age had worn off, but the Flying Graysons were still a major draw for the circus. So successful were the Graysons, in fact, that Haly’s Circus no longer needed to take out loans from Zucco, and C.C. Haly told the gangster as much when the tour returned to Gotham City. He planned to get out from under Zucco’s thumb and go completely legit, and the Flying Graysons were his ticket to real success. Zucco, then, decided to clip the Flying Graysons’ wings.

The worst night of Dick Grayson’s life was just after his tenth birthday, when Haly’s Circus was performing at a special fundraising event hosted by the eccentric and reclusive billionaire Bruce Wayne. At the climax of their performance, the Flying Graysons took to the trapeze to perform a series of death-defying aerial stunts without a net. Little did they know, however, that Tony Zucco had paid off and threatened some of the circus’s stagehands to sabotage the Graysons’ equipment. As young Dick looked on in horror, one of the cables holding his parents’ trapeze snapped, and they fell to their deaths in front of him and several thousand horrified onlookers.

That night, Dick’s childhood ended. He had no idea, however, that a whole new life was about to begin.

The very same day Dick was placed in the care of the Sofia Falcone Home for Orphans, he was adopted by the man who had hosted the event that took his parents from him: Bruce Wayne. This was immediately the center of salacious tabloid rumors—a rich powerful man, taking in a vulnerable young boy after his parents just happened to die in a terrible accident, immediately suggested unsavory things—but in truth Bruce felt responsible for what happened, and was determined to make things as right as he could for the boy. Dick was given the absolute height of luxury, allowed to run rampant through the absolute palace that was Wayne Manor, gifted with the latest toys and games and electronics, while private tutors gave him the best formal education money could buy. While Dick thought Mr. Wayne was nice enough, he was no replacement for his parents, and all the comfort and entertainment in the world couldn’t replace the hurt in his heart, or his need to make Tony Zucco pay.

At age eleven, Dick snuck out of Wayne Manor, riding into town on a dirt bike he had gotten for his birthday, and hiding a gun under his shirt. He had spent the past year doing extra homework of his own: reading everything he could find about Zucco and the Gotham City criminal underworld. He’d learned what club Zucco spent most of his nights, and planned to sneak in from the rooftop and shoot the crime boss dead. He fully expected he wouldn’t make it out of the building alive, and he was okay with that. Before he could even enter the building, however, he felt a gloved hand grab him, and everything went black.

When he came to, Dick thought for a moment that the figure looming over him was the devil himself. He quickly realized, however, that he was in even more trouble than that: the figure wasn’t the devil…it was the Batman. The feared vigilante that had brutalized Gotham’s criminals for years had caught him, and Dick was sure he was about to break every bone in his body. When the Batman spoke, however, his tone wasn’t one of a sadistic monster, but one of a concerned parent. He was outraged by the boy’s recklessness, fearful for the boy’s life, and regretful that he had neglected him. To Dick’s amazement, the Batman removed his mask, revealing himself to be none other than Bruce Wayne. While he couldn’t let Dick get himself killed in the name of revenge, he swore to offer Dick Grayson a better path: the path of justice.

The next year was a blur, as Dick was subjected to a punishing regimen that made his childhood training look like little league. He learned to fight, to move without making a sound, to run across rooftops with trivial ease. He learned how to use high-tech gadgets to overcome electronic security, to investigate crime scenes without leaving evidence behind, to tell if a person is lying before they even said a word. Bruce had never intended to let Dick get involved in active crime-fighting until the boy was at least eighteen, but when the Batman found himself captured by Tony Zucco, it was the twelve-year-old Dick Grayson who came to the vigilante’s rescue and finally brought his parents’ killer to justice.

Despite the butler Alfred’s protests, Bruce saw Dick had incredible potential not just as a protégé, but as a partner. Within a month of defeating Zucco, Dick Grayson was equipped with his own suit and arsenal of weapons, and given a new identity. Inspired by the myth of Robin Hood, Dick took the name Robin.

For the next five years, Robin would act as a force multiplier in Batman’s war on crime. Typically either working directly at Batman’s side or going solo to handle ‘light work’ where the chance for real danger was low (relatively speaking, as he still often found himself fighting armed thugs with no qualms about harming a child), Dick continued to hone his skills on the job, often working behind the scenes while Batman drew the attention of their more lethal foes. From the takedown of the Maroni crime family to the hunting and eventual capture of the savage Killer Croc, Robin’s work became instrumental in Batman’s crusade to make Gotham City safe.

When Dick was fifteen, he discovered a weakness that was as potent to him as Kryptonite was to Superman. Rumors had begun to circulate of a third masked vigilante in Gotham, this one a “Bat-Girl” operating out of the Burnside district. He tracked down this elusive and surprisingly capable new player, initially planning to talk her out of this dangerous life, but that plan shattered the instant he saw the eyes under her mask, the long red hair, the freckles on the bridge of her nose. He had met Barbara Gordon two years before at a fundraiser for her father the GCPD Commissioner, and had been smitten for her then. Now that he was a hot-blooded teenager and she was not just a fellow vigilante but a damned good one, Dick was no longer just smitten; he was hopelessly in love. The two began operating together as a duo with or without Bruce’s permission, and the ‘Bat-Family’ soon welcomed its official third member.

Now at age sixteen, Dick’s life is growing increasingly complicated. His private life is becoming less and less private, as being the teenage heir to a billionaire’s fortune has made him a local celebrity against his will. His love life is beginning to strain, as Barbara Gordon, a year older than him, is preparing to move away for college. And more and more of Gotham City’s crime bosses and costumed super-criminals have begun to see Robin as nearly as much of a threat as the Batman himself. Some, like the enigmatic assassin Deathstroke or the Joker’s psychotic right-hand woman Harley Quinn, have begun targeting him specifically. He’s begun to feel like he’s walking a tightrope again, having to balance so many things, and every one of them threatening a hard fall if he slips.

Titans

All right, here we go

R O B I N

Name: Richard "Dick" Grayson
Age: 16
Base of Operations: Gotham City
Years of Active Experience: 5

Attributes & Abilities:

Abilities

Before his training with Batman, Dick Grayson was already exceptionally athletic, having spent his entire childhood training as a circus acrobat, as well as picking up a knack for sleight of hand, escape artistry, acting, and sneaking. Over the past five years, Dick has sharpened his mind and body to a degree he never thought possible. His strength, speed, stamina, and agility have been pushed to rival and surpass Olympic athletes. And he has extensively trained to master hand-to-hand combat, learning an extraordinarily dangerous mix of martial arts originally developed by the League of Shadows (though a decidedly less lethal version taught to him by Batman). While he is far from unbeatable or infallible, Robin's intense training and experience have made him a formidable force.

In addition to his skill and conditioning, Robin's capabilities are greatly enhanced with his gear. His suit, patterned after the Bat-suit, is a weave of Kevlar and Nomex, with a cape made of WayneTech proprietary 'Memory Cloth' that can deploy into a rigid glider or harden into an extra layer of protective armor, and hardened armor plating in the gauntlets and boots that provide added protection and allow for harder impacts in hand-to-hand combat. His boots contain advanced shock absorbers (backed by an internal exoskeleton underneath his main suit) that allow him to jump far higher than humanly possible and survive falls from several stories, so long as he lands on his feet. His mask contains infra-red sensors, telescopic capabilities up to 100x magnification, and an augmented-reality HUD that connects directly to the Bat-Computer, providing him with near-instant access to information and a powerful suite of hacking and cybersecurity tools.

While he has access to Batman's vast arsenal of crime-fighting equipment, his usual loadout consists of a pair of collapsible batons which also carry tasers for extra stopping power, a variety of Batarangs, a grapnel gun, and a copy of the famed Utility Belt. Robin's Belt typically carries smoke and flash bombs, small GPS trackers, flares, flexicuffs, lockpicks, a rebreather, a field first aid kit, and a secure flash drive.

Finally, Robin's vehicle of choice is the Red Bird, a smaller and faster variation of the Bat-Cycle. Built for extreme maneuverability at high speeds, the Red Bird has separate engines built into each of its omni-directional wheels, and a gyroscopic swiveling chassis that together allow for split-second changes of direction and make it nearly impossible to lose balance.

Character Synopsis:

Synopsis

Dick Grayson never had what most would call a "normal" childhood. His early life was spent traveling from city to city as part of Haly's Circus, the darling son of acrobats John and Mary Grayson. The Circus had fallen on hard times, as crowds dwindled in favor of more modern entertainment. To stay afloat, owner and ringmaster C.C. Haly had taken out exorbitant loans from the small-time gangster Tony Zucco, who pressured Haly and threatened his talent relentlessly to get back what he was owed.

The Grayson family, having to put their bodies through hellish physical training to perform for audiences that grew more and more apathetic every year, did the only thing they knew how to save the circus and give their son a chance at a better life: they would make him a star.

For a normal child, the regimen they put him through would have been considered cruel, even abusive, but Dick was a prodigy. He took to his exercises and his education like a duck to water, and excelled to a point that bordered on superhuman. He learned to tumble, to walk the tightrope, to swing on the flying trapeze, as well as how to perform classic Vaudevillian memory acts, solving fiendish puzzles and reciting Shakespeare while other children his age were still learning their shapes and colors. Before long the Flying Graysons had a new main attraction: the world’s youngest performing acrobat, the ‘Boy Wonder’ wowing audiences with incredible acrobatic displays by age six.

Within a few years, the novelty of Dick’s young age had worn off, but the Flying Graysons were still a major draw for the circus. So successful were the Graysons, in fact, that Haly’s Circus no longer needed to take out loans from Zucco, and C.C. Haly told the gangster as much when the tour returned to Gotham City. He planned to get out from under Zucco’s thumb and go completely legit, and the Flying Graysons were his ticket to real success. Zucco, then, decided to clip the Flying Graysons’ wings.

The worst night of Dick Grayson’s life was just after his tenth birthday, when Haly’s Circus was performing at a special fundraising event hosted by the eccentric and reclusive billionaire Bruce Wayne. At the climax of their performance, the Flying Graysons took to the trapeze to perform a series of death-defying aerial stunts without a net. Little did they know, however, that Tony Zucco had paid off and threatened some of the circus’s stagehands to sabotage the Graysons’ equipment. As young Dick looked on in horror, one of the cables holding his parents’ trapeze snapped, and they fell to their deaths in front of him and several thousand horrified onlookers.

That night, Dick’s childhood ended. He had no idea, however, that a whole new life was about to begin.

The very same day Dick was placed in the care of the Sofia Falcone Home for Orphans, he was adopted by the man who had hosted the event that took his parents from him: Bruce Wayne. This was immediately the center of salacious tabloid rumors—a rich powerful man, taking in a vulnerable young boy after his parents just happened to die in a terrible accident, immediately suggested unsavory things—but in truth Bruce felt responsible for what happened, and was determined to make things as right as he could for the boy. Dick was given the absolute height of luxury, allowed to run rampant through the absolute palace that was Wayne Manor, gifted with the latest toys and games and electronics, while private tutors gave him the best formal education money could buy. While Dick thought Mr. Wayne was nice enough, he was no replacement for his parents, and all the comfort and entertainment in the world couldn’t replace the hurt in his heart, or his need to make Tony Zucco pay.

At age eleven, Dick snuck out of Wayne Manor, riding into town on a dirt bike he had gotten for his birthday, and hiding a gun under his shirt. He had spent the past year doing extra homework of his own: reading everything he could find about Zucco and the Gotham City criminal underworld. He’d learned what club Zucco spent most of his nights, and planned to sneak in from the rooftop and shoot the crime boss dead. He fully expected he wouldn’t make it out of the building alive, and he was okay with that. Before he could even enter the building, however, he felt a gloved hand grab him, and everything went black.

When he came to, Dick thought for a moment that the figure looming over him was the devil himself. He quickly realized, however, that he was in even more trouble than that: the figure wasn’t the devil…it was the Batman. The feared vigilante that had brutalized Gotham’s criminals for years had caught him, and Dick was sure he was about to break every bone in his body. When the Batman spoke, however, his tone wasn’t one of a sadistic monster, but one of a concerned parent. He was outraged by the boy’s recklessness, fearful for the boy’s life, and regretful that he had neglected him. To Dick’s amazement, the Batman removed his mask, revealing himself to be none other than Bruce Wayne. While he couldn’t let Dick get himself killed in the name of revenge, he swore to offer Dick Grayson a better path: the path of justice.

The next year was a blur, as Dick was subjected to a punishing regimen that made his childhood training look like little league. He learned to fight, to move without making a sound, to run across rooftops with trivial ease. He learned how to use high-tech gadgets to overcome electronic security, to investigate crime scenes without leaving evidence behind, to tell if a person is lying before they even said a word. Bruce had never intended to let Dick get involved in active crime-fighting until the boy was at least eighteen, but when the Batman found himself captured by Tony Zucco, it was the twelve-year-old Dick Grayson who came to the vigilante’s rescue and finally brought his parents’ killer to justice.

Despite the butler Alfred’s protests, Bruce saw Dick had incredible potential not just as a protégé, but as a partner. Within a month of defeating Zucco, Dick Grayson was equipped with his own suit and arsenal of weapons, and given a new identity. Inspired by the myth of Robin Hood, Dick took the name Robin.

For the next five years, Robin would act as a force multiplier in Batman’s war on crime. Typically either working directly at Batman’s side or going solo to handle ‘light work’ where the chance for real danger was low (relatively speaking, as he still often found himself fighting armed thugs with no qualms about harming a child), Dick continued to hone his skills on the job, often working behind the scenes while Batman drew the attention of their more lethal foes. From the takedown of the Maroni crime family to the hunting and eventual capture of the savage Killer Croc, Robin’s work became instrumental in Batman’s crusade to make Gotham City safe.

When Dick was fifteen, he discovered a weakness that was as potent to him as Kryptonite was to Superman. Rumors had begun to circulate of a third masked vigilante in Gotham, this one a “Bat-Girl” operating out of the Burnside district. He tracked down this elusive and surprisingly capable new player, initially planning to talk her out of this dangerous life, but that plan shattered the instant he saw the eyes under her mask, the long red hair, the freckles on the bridge of her nose. He had met Barbara Gordon two years before at a fundraiser for her father the GCPD Commissioner, and had been smitten for her then. Now that he was a hot-blooded teenager and she was not just a fellow vigilante but a damned good one, Dick was no longer just smitten; he was hopelessly in love. The two began operating together as a duo with or without Bruce’s permission, and the ‘Bat-Family’ soon welcomed its official third member.

Now at age sixteen, Dick’s life is growing increasingly complicated. His private life is becoming less and less private, as being the teenage heir to a billionaire’s fortune has made him a local celebrity against his will. His love life is beginning to strain, as Barbara Gordon, a year older than him, is preparing to move away for college. And more and more of Gotham City’s crime bosses and costumed super-criminals have begun to see Robin as nearly as much of a threat as the Batman himself. Some, like the enigmatic assassin Deathstroke or the Joker’s psychotic right-hand woman Harley Quinn, have begun targeting him specifically. He’s begun to feel like he’s walking a tightrope again, having to balance so many things, and every one of them threatening a hard fall if he slips.

Titans

<Snipped quote by AndyC>
You still about this? Just checking in.

@TGM

I'm still down for it, just got swamped for a while with other stuff. If this game is still going, I'll try to finish my CS tonight.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

Its been quiet in the OOC. How's everyone doing?

@Bounce

Pretty great, actually. Went on a weekend trip, got to hang out with some friends I don't get to see as much anymore, 'twas a great time.

More LoD and RaveStar stuff still coming up.

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

(Delete, double post)

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

"Yes, Colonel?"

@Pilatus

"Two things," he said in a businesslike manner. "First, reminding me about the additional cover the weather will provide us. That was a good call. Out of turn, perhaps, but a good call."

While the Colonel had chided himself for letting his prejudice against the Combine get the better of him before, he still found himself uncomfortable around Wyatt. He had the same difficulty around Doctor Nakajima, and Yuri had been with the Green Knights since the Restoration War. He treated both of them with professional courtesy and respect-- or at least, he tried to-- but could never quite bring himself to open up to anyone born under House Kurita as a friend or a confidant.

Still, while Gaius had always had issues warming up to Reya and Yuri, Captain Roth certainly hadn't. In fact, the way that Reya had subtly brought up his oversight, reminding him of critical information without causing him to lose face in front of the Knights, was just the sort of thing Sally would do during a briefing. Her influence must have rubbed off on Wyatt a bit.

He found himself thinking about Sally for a moment, wondering how she was holding up and praying to the gods of space that she was all right....then turned his attention back to business.

"Second," he said, "the mission could use an expert's judgment when securing the ammunition. We need to make sure the ammo is compatible with our weapon systems: Armstrong 80mm for the Shadow Hawk and 200mm for the Von Luckner, Doombud LRMs for the Archer. The Raven needs Harpoon SRMs and the Ostroc takes Totschlagens, but in a pinch it can fit Holly SRMs like the Shad--....but, then, you already know all that."

He didn't make eye contact with Wyatt, staring instead off to the motor pool, where Sol was directing the last bit of work on the APCs to get them ready for tomorrow morning's excursion.

"I will not ask you to put yourself into active combat," he said. "I will not think less of you if you do not go along with the volunteers. I will ask, though, at the very least, that you make sure the volunteers who are going know what to look for. If they come back with nothing but Imperator Smoothie rounds or Harvester 2s or some other ammo we can't use, then they'll have put themselves in danger for nothing. Make sure they get us what we need to do our job. I trust your judgment on that."

Before Reya could respond, Colonel Wayne turned and headed towards the Mobile HQ to make his own last preparations.

"As you were, Wyatt."

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

"If there are no further questions," the Colonel concluded, "then that'll conclude our briefing. While we're under comms blackout from the Mobile HQ, Chain of Command is as follows: Mechwarrior Daschke operates as Lance Leader, Master Sergeant Dalton coordinates the on-foot assets, with a third team-lead elected by the volunteers. The volunteers answer to their team-lead, the team-lead answers to Dalton, Dalton answers to Daschke. While the ECM field is up, her orders are my orders. That said, trust your lancemates, and trust your training, and you'll pull off this op with no issues. I know I say this every mission, but believe me when I say that failure is not an option tomorrow. Now, get your rest and make whatever preparations you need; we move out before 0100 hours. Dismissed."

As the Green Knights began to disperse, Colonel Wayne spotted Chief Aadil milling about among the rank and file, no doubt letting everyone know the Scrap Yard was open for business tonight. He nodded; tensions among the camp were high enough, it would be good for the crew to let off some steam before the mission went live.

"All right, grunts, you heard the man!" Master Sergeant Dalton called to his infantry platoon. "I want your gear prepped and checked by the time I finish this got-damn sentence! Fire Teams Alpha and Bravo, you're with me in the first APC, Charlie and Delta are in the second!"

To the surprise of many, the usually lazy and lackadaisical infantrymen wasted no time in returning to their corner of the caverns for prep, Dalton barking his orders after them all the while. The Green Knights First Infantry Platoon-- referred to by the crew as 'the Buckshot Boys' for their preference of close-quarters weaponry-- had a bad reputation of being layabouts until Master Sergeant Dalton lit a fire under them. Many of the Buckshot Boys were infamous for finding ways to skip duty, discovering new and impossible-to-find locations to sneak off to for a nap, finding ways to avoid being told to do anything so they could get away with doing nothing all day. Still, when there was serious work to be done, they were quick, brutal, and efficient. While they often rubbed the rest of the crew the wrong way, Colonel Wayne knew he could trust the Buckshot Boys to do absolutely anything, as quickly and effectively as possible, so they could get right back to doing nothing.

Amidst the crowd, Gaius picked out Weapons Engineer Wyatt, who had subtly spoken up during the briefing.

"Wyatt," he called out before she could leave. "I'd like a word with you."

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

"You're saying you don't believe me?" Raven asked incredulously, trying to keep her temper in check as she paced in front of the police chief's desk. "When exactly have I been wrong before?"

"What is there to believe?" Chief Stella Gomez fired back. "You're expecting me to mobilize the entire JCPD, interrupting dozens of active criminal cases and costing God knows how much in taxpayer money, on what? Your word that you had a spooky dream?"

"Not a dream," the teenage witch girl corrected with an edge of annoyance. "It was--"

"A premonition from beyond, sure," Chief Gomez interrupted. "Maybe you had a vision, maybe you didn't, but one thing you definitely didn't have is anything actionable. Just a vague vision that 'something bad is about to happen.'"

"And that does not concern you?" Starfire implored.

"Of course it concerns me," the Chief replied. "But we're talking a major metropolitan area here. 'Something bad' is always about to happen, if it's not in the middle of happening. It's like saying you had a 'vision' that the sun is going to rise, or that the grass is going to be green, or that a politician is going to do something stupid. You're not wrong, but you're also not giving me anything I can work with."

Raven and Starfire fumed with frustration. Ever since they had become active as heroes in Jump City, they had decided the best way to avoid the complications of being a pair of wanted vigilantes was to cooperate directly with the police force. While a decent idea on paper, in practice it often amounted to Chief Gomez playing wait-and-see whenever they caught wind of trouble, and a never-ending cascade of criticisms and I-told-you-sos when that trouble occurred.

"I've had premonitions like this one before," Raven began again, "but never on this scale. Whatever's coming, it's a catastrophe that will haunt this city for generations, unless we stop it. And you're seriously not going to help?"

Chief Gomez sighed. She knew the kids meant well; they were even getting halfway decent at their act. But she'd seen how bad the situation in places like Gotham City, New York, or even Metropolis could get when there were super-people about. The mask-and-cape crowd always brought trouble, and these two never seemed to grasp how much trouble they could cause.

"Do you have anything specific for me? Names, faces, locations, anything or anyone that I can have my men watch out for?" Raven looked away, the irritation plain on her face, and Chief Gomez continued. "Then there's not anything I can help with. The best I can do is put more people on patrol for the weekend, and have everyone on a general alert. Until you've got something more specific that I can act on, that's all I've got."

"We understand," Starfire said dejectedly, before standing up and beginning to walk toward the open window.

"Before we go," said Raven as she too rose from her chair, "the sewage treatment plant. Was there any sign of what caused it to collapse?"

The Chief shrugged. "We've looked and found no signs of sabotage, no explosives, no traces of deliberate tampering with the equipment. Looks like a few clogs in the wrong places backed up the water supply, and the old equipment just suffered a cascade of freak failures. They're chalking it up as an industrial accident. Just a really spectacular run of bad luck."

"....bad luck...." Raven muttered to herself, furrowing her brow. "I'll do some research, see if I can get any more specifics about my premonition. I can't prove it yet, but I'm sure it's related to the sewage plant somehow."

"I really hope you're wrong about this whole catastrophe thing," the Chief said as the two climbed out the window to fly away, "but I doubt I'm going to be that lucky."

---

"I don't like it," Rachel said as she flopped down on her bed, the small room in the loft above the garage littered with occult literature and books of prophecy. The Prophecies of Mother Shipton, the Book of Enoch, the I Ching, and the quartrains of Nostradamus all sat opened and discarded around the room, Rachel's half of which was adorned with all sorts of supernatural tchotchkes and band posters. She'd been poring over the various books for days since her premonition in the library, but nothing in these prophecies matched what she saw. "Something is very wrong here."

"I concur," Starfire agreed, pacing back and forth, on foot rather than floating as she usually did. "Everything has been of the wrongness this week. I do hope this is the work of an enemy, so that I may commence with the smashing of faces."

Rachel raised an eyebrow; she knew Kori was trained by some kind of elite warriors on her home planet, but she'd never been the type to look forward to violence.

"What's bothering you?" she asked.

"I am unbothered," Kori said, crossing her arms.

"You're very clearly bothered," Rachel insisted. "Is this about Fra--"

"How could he betray me?!?!" Kori burst out, her composure collapsing entirely. "I had believed Franklin to be the one true love of my life! I wished to take him as my Prince when I return to free Tamaran! And now....now he gives me the ditch? And for Kitten? She is little better than a flotzing blarkmorg! What did I do that was so wrong?"

As Kori sank down into her own bed, Rachel heard the skittering of long chitinous insectoid legs emerging from behind the pile of laundry in the far corner, and instinctively sat upright, one hand glowing with arcane energies. Emerging from the mound of shirts and socks was a six-legged creature about the size of a small dog, a pair of wings folded behind its back, its body covered in fluffy pink fuzz. The enormous moth scrambled across the room, a half-eaten leotard still hanging from its mandibles, and settled at the foot of Kori's bed, nuzzling against the alien princess's hand.

"Oh, Silkie," Kori sighed, "if only my life was as simple as yours. Sleep, devour garbage, vomit acid, spin strings of indestructible silk out of which we make our garments for the fighting of crime. I would truly have the happiness then."

Rachel released her defensive spell, giving a slight shiver as Kori snuggled with her mutated moth pet. She'd never liked bugs, and now there was a gigantic one living with them. Kori loved it, though, so Rachel did her best to pretend that "Silkie" didn't make her skin crawl.

"Look, Kori, I, ah, I can't really say I know what you're going through..." Rachel began-- truthfully, she'd never had a boyfriend or even been on a date, so she really didn't know how her friend was feeling, "....but I can tell you that Frankie Crandall was not worth getting heartbroken over. Do you know why I never get involved in dating drama?"

"Because you are rude and standoffish to everyone as a defense mechanism for your fear of rejection and poor self-image?"

The purple-haired occultist stared in stunned surprise at Kori's directness.

"Or am I incorrect?" Kori blinked innocently.

"It's because," Rachel answered, staring daggers at her, "we have more important things to worry about than who is hooking up with whom. You want to return to your home planet and overthrow your tyrannical sister to free your people. I want to stop the Church of Blood from summoning my father to the material plane and bringing about the apocalypse. I help you achieve your goal, you help me achieve mine. Getting involved with some stupid boy like Frankie Crandall-- who was only ever interested because he just wanted to sleep with you, by the way-- only takes time and energy away from that."

"Franklin did not just want to sleep with me," Kori protested, "the activities he suggested were not conducive to restful sleep at all."

"That's not what I--" Rachel began, then shook her head. "The point is, Frankie, Kitten, all of it is just a distraction. And even if it wasn't, he wasn't interested in anything meaningful. He was always going to hurt you at one point or another."

"Then why did you not say so before?"

"I did. Multiple times."

"But you gave him a pet name that suggested his presence was refreshing and clean!" Kori said as she absently scratched Silkie between its antennae. "Is that not why you referred to him as a container of vaginal cleansing fluid?"

"No, I called him a--...." Rachel caught herself mid-sentence, then nodded her head. "...a douche bag. Right."

"But now I see he was not refreshing or cleansing at all," Kori sulked. "He was a narfling garfplot, and I have the foolishness for believing he loved me!"

Kori's eyes began to glow with green light as her despair gave way to anger, and Silkie fluttered away from her, perching upside-down on the ceiling.

"This is all the fault of Kitten van Cleer," she snarled. "I should invade her festival, and deliver her the same humiliation and defeat that she did to me! Then I will have the triumph, and she will have the sadness!"

"Kori, it's not worth getting worked up over," Rachel tried in vain to calm her down. "It's just a mean girl and a dumb guy doing what mean girls and dumb guys do. That's why I'm telling you, stop worrying about what Kitten is doing and focus on--"

*BZZZT BZZZT*

Rachel's eyes widened with surprise. Her cell phone was buzzing. No one but Kori or her foster parents ever called her.

"Hang on," she said, looking at her phone and not recognizing the number. For a moment, curiosity got the better of her judgement, and she answered the call. "...hello?"

"...hi, is this Rachel?" came a low, half-interested voice.

"....Malchior?" Rachel's pale white face went red.

Malcolm Ellis was in Rachel's art class, and had been in Creative Writing with her the semester before. He didn't speak much, but his paintings were incredibly expressive abstracts, and his poetry was always a captivating and scathing condemnation of phony consumer culture. Outside of school, he made his own industrial goth-core music, and had changed his name to "Malchior" to enhance his brand on social media. He also happened to look great wearing eyeliner, black lipstick, and skinny jeans that showed off his butt. Not that Rachel ever paid attention to that sort of thing.

"Yeah, uh, hey," Malchior said. "This might be kinda weird, but, um...there's an exhibition at the JC Museum of Modern Art this Friday night, and I was wondering..."

"...yes?" Rachel asked, her breath catching.

"...could you, like, go there and take some pictures for me?"

The silence in the room hung heavily for a solid five seconds.

"What?"

"Yeah, I was gonna go myself, he continued, "but then I got a VIP invitation to Kitten van Cleer's party that night. And since I know you're not going, I was wondering if--"

*CLICK*

Rachel ended the call, closed her eyes, and took a few deep breaths.

After regaining her composure, she opened her eyes, and said simply,

"I'm going to kill her."

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

"The sad truth of the situation is that we're going to be painted as 'the villains' no matter what approach we take," the Colonel followed up on Ramrod's question and the comments that came with it. "The NPDRE has complete control over the local media outlets, so they can spin our actions whatever way they like. However, when it comes to keeping our name clean with any potential future employers and with the MRB, we do have one trick up our sleeve: our BattleROM recorders."

BattleROMs were the equivalent of a 'Mech's "Black Box," the stored raw data of all its internal and external sensors. Primarily used for verifying the accuracy of after-action reports, the video and audio footage, software data logs, and Neurohelmet feedback stored in a BattleROM could help commanders reconstruct the events of a chaotic battle, from determining an enemy 'Mech's weapons loadout down to a Mechwarrior's preferred control setup. MRB tribunals had used BattleROM footage on numerous occasions to convict or exonerate mercenaries accused of war crimes, and a commander's level of willingness to turn over said footage was often a clear indicator of their innocence or guilt.

"I want your gun-cameras rolling from the word go on this one," he insisted, "especially once the ECM bubble goes up and you're cut off from the Mobile HQ. That way, if the NPDRE accuses us of anything dirty, we can show potential allies the ground truth. And if you do decide to fight dirty yourselves, I'll be the first to know about it."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw technician Wyatt mouthing something to get his attention, though he didn't quite make out what she was saying. For a moment, a spark of annoyance drew a sneer, and he thought to reprimand her for speaking out of turn.

Bloody know-it-all, he grumbled inwardly. Can't get in a word edgewise without this smartass kid interrupting...

That annoyance faded, though, as the gesture started to remind him of Captain Roth, how Sally would subtly nudge him one way or another during his briefings, to bring up something he had forgotten, without costing him face in front of the Knights. Inwardly, he remembered one of his many, many arguments with Sally, about Ms. Wyatt:

You're not on Mallory's World anymore, Captain Roth had scolded him, and she doesn't work for Yorinaga Kurita. She works for you. The Combine isn't your enemy anymore, so stop treating everyone from there like they're going to draw a sword the second your turn your back.

Gaius chided himself. Stupid old man, clinging to stupid old grudges. Right.

Straightening up, he changed the subject.

"The weather," he began, with a spark of inspiration he couldn't quite trace, "Is another factor that's going to be working in our favor. We'll have a decent amount of cloud cover, meaning any flying assets looking for us will have to fly low in order to see us...low enough to be in range for our weapons to be able to fire on them. Giggles, I want you make sure you keep your LRMs in reserve for just such an occasion."

He gestured to Lyons to turn the projector back on, and brought the red dot of his laser pointer over a row of hexes just to the west of the target area.

"On our way back, local weather forecasts are predicting a major thunderstorm coming in from the west," he elaborated. "Strong winds, heavy rain, nothing particularly dangerous for 'Mechs or tanks, but it will reduce visibility to near zero at times. If the situation gets too hairy, divert your course into the storm and try to lose the enemy in it. As long as the convoy drives carefully, it's possible for them to give the Espian Guards the slip even if they get separated from the Raven. A longshot, but possible."