Indy Cooper

'Misthophoroi' - A Sci-Fi Mercenary RP

Awesomesauce. I await IC-ness eagerly.

'Misthophoroi' - A Sci-Fi Mercenary RP

Ahk-krat-rahz Tenkiszrahz

Ahk-krat-rahz(only a close representation that humans can pronounce) is from a long-lived and intelligent race of apex predators that has been a member state of the Valnaur Empire for a very long time. While most people tend to assume the Zkz'Karnis are insects due to their hexipedal, carapace covered bodies and mandibled faces, but are actually more a cross between a theropod and an amphibious crustacean, though using either of those words to describe one within earshot may get you killed. Despite their average size of ten feet, with a length of fifteen, and a mass that makes star travel somewhat obnoxious for them, they took to it like Frzi-zashs to liquid nourishment. Tool use is possible because of both very fine motor skills with mandibles and a pair of dangling forelimbs located just beneath where the long neck meets the main body. The head is balanced out by a stubby tail, developed in evolution for that singular purpose. Their heads are generally covered in elaborate crests except for immediately after mating season, though the females tend to keep them on their entire lives. While their carapace makes them impossible to bring down for most of the other species on their homeworld, it turns out that larger calibre modern arms, and especially energy weapons, have little issue killing them. The first years after their conquering by the Empire were particularly difficult, as they do not have many hatchlings during any successful breeding.

Ahk's carapace is mottled with light and dark browns, reds, and greys. Scarring across her thick carapace from multiple sources she does not discuss shines like the inside of an abalone shell, from minerals deposits that cause its growth, and give her a grizzled appearance. Unusual for her species, there are no clan markings painted onto her sides or armoured legs, and she wears no crest at all, leaving the top of her head bare except for the ridged carapace plates there.

The Zkz'Karnis are a caste system society, mostly based on logic and merit. However, Ahk was unfortunate enough to be hatched to the lowest class on the planet, those that are sand-coloured. While originally because food was scare and their colouring made it difficult to hunt well in the jungles, the stigma has stuck with this particular caste so much that they are actually being bred out slowly, as it is rare that they find a mate with their normally green brethren.

Seeing no opportunity for a mate nor a good life on her homeworld, Ahk studied hard at university, in topics as diverse as engineering, art, sociology, and archaeology, once she found out that her university was one of the best for xenobiology, and offered a transfer program to other systems, she knew she had found her answer. Thirty years later, she is a very accomplished xenobiologist and surgeon, capable of performing life saving techniques and stopping virulent plagues in most of the known system. However, no hospital has so far been willing to hire a giant, flesh-eating insect for their medical programs, and she had to do her entire residencies by virtual reality interfaces. To pay for the extremely costly education, Ahk has had to rely on her other well-developed skillset, programming. She is capable of developing tools for several of the most universal languages, and has developed her own assistant AI for dealing with diagnoses and day-to-day problems encountered with communications. The species is not capable of naturally speaking Humanitas, and must rely on translators, something the Empire has used as an economic dampener on their growth by making them prohibitively expensive. Ahk has gotten around this by making her own.

But programming is not allowing her to catch up on her bills, and criminal activity is not in nature. The Empire would make her a grunt were she to try and join the military, as no other species seems to recognise that the Zkz'Karnis are actually smarter than the beasts they look like. So she has put out her name into the mercenary circles, hoping that some enterprising leader will take a chance on one of the more accomplished doctors in the sector. Others were swift to point her to the planet of Taenarum, and seeing no other option, she has added to her already considerable debt to make it there and set herself up in the tiniest possible rooms while awaiting with trepidation for someone to hire her despite her lack of combat experience.

Name Pronounciation: awk-CRAYT-raj tank-izj-RAJ

Actual physical dimensions for Ahk, for easy reference
Height: 8'4", capable of lowering her head down to 6'10" to fit through human sized passages with difficulty.
Length: 13'
width: 9' 6", legs can squeeze in to fit corridors as small as 6'6" with difficulty.
Forelimbs have six digits with four joints each, that fold up into pockets on the carapace for protection.
Ends of legs are blunt, but capable of driving into wood for climbing purposes, though too heavy to climb very high. The two foremost legs are thicker to allow for burrowing.
The mouth is framed by four mandibles with a light carapace plating, capable of finger-like manipulation. Tipped with tooth-ish protrusions.
The head is very much like a Tyrannosaurus, though plated with carapace.
The species evolved on a high gravity planet, so low-grav environs tend to be extremely uncomfortable.


Closest image I could find.

'Misthophoroi' - A Sci-Fi Mercenary RP

Ahk-krat-rahz Tenkiszrahz

Ahk-krat-rahz(only a close representation that humans can pronounce) is from a long-lived and intelligent race of apex predators that has been a member state of the Valnaur Empire for a very long time. While most people tend to assume the Zkz'Karnis are insects due to their hexipedal, carapace covered bodies and mandibled faces, but are actually more a cross between a theropod and an amphibious crustacean, though using either of those words to describe one within earshot may get you killed. Despite their average size of ten feet, with a length of fifteen, and a mass that makes star travel somewhat obnoxious for them, they took to it like Frzi-zashs to liquid nourishment. Tool use is possible because of both very fine motor skills with mandibles and a pair of dangling forelimbs located just beneath where the long neck meets the main body. The head is balanced out by a stubby tail, developed in evolution for that singular purpose. Their heads are generally covered in elaborate crests except for immediately after mating season, though the females tend to keep them on their entire lives. While their carapace makes them impossible to bring down for most of the other species on their homeworld, it turns out that larger calibre modern arms, and especially energy weapons, have little issue killing them. The first years after their conquering by the Empire were particularly difficult, as they do not have many hatchlings during any successful breeding.

Ahk's carapace is mottled with light and dark browns, reds, and greys. Scarring across her thick carapace from multiple sources she does not discuss shines like the inside of an abalone shell, from minerals deposits that cause its growth, and give her a grizzled appearance. Unusual for her species, there are no clan markings painted onto her sides or armoured legs, and she wears no crest at all, leaving the top of her head bare except for the ridged carapace plates there.

The Zkz'Karnis are a caste system society, mostly based on logic and merit. However, Ahk was unfortunate enough to be hatched to the lowest class on the planet, those that are sand-coloured. While originally because food was scare and their colouring made it difficult to hunt well in the jungles, the stigma has stuck with this particular caste so much that they are actually being bred out slowly, as it is rare that they find a mate with their normally green brethren.

Seeing no opportunity for a mate nor a good life on her homeworld, Ahk studied hard at university, in topics as diverse as engineering, art, sociology, and archaeology, once she found out that her university was one of the best for xenobiology, and offered a transfer program to other systems, she knew she had found her answer. Thirty years later, she is a very accomplished xenobiologist and surgeon, capable of performing life saving techniques and stopping virulent plagues in most of the known system. However, no hospital has so far been willing to hire a giant, flesh-eating insect for their medical programs, and she had to do her entire residencies by virtual reality interfaces. To pay for the extremely costly education, Ahk has had to rely on her other well-developed skillset, programming. She is capable of developing tools for several of the most universal languages, and has developed her own assistant AI for dealing with diagnoses and day-to-day problems encountered with communications. The species is not capable of naturally speaking Humanitas, and must rely on translators, something the Empire has used as an economic dampener on their growth by making them prohibitively expensive. Ahk has gotten around this by making her own.

But programming is not allowing her to catch up on her bills, and criminal activity is not in nature. The Empire would make her a grunt were she to try and join the military, as no other species seems to recognise that the Zkz'Karnis are actually smarter than the beasts they look like. So she has put out her name into the mercenary circles, hoping that some enterprising leader will take a chance on one of the more accomplished doctors in the sector. Others were swift to point her to the planet of Taenarum, and seeing no other option, she has added to her already considerable debt to make it there and set herself up in the tiniest possible rooms while awaiting with trepidation for someone to hire her despite her lack of combat experience.

I am looking for some sort of art to help with visualisation, but it's been somewhat difficult to find anything that isn't a damn bug.

Edit:

Actual physical dimensions for Ahk, for easy reference

Height: 8'4", capable of lowering her head down to 6'10" to fit through human sized passages with difficulty.
Length: 13'
width: 9' 6", legs can squeeze in to fit corridors as small as 6'6" with difficulty.
Forelimbs have six digits with four joints each, that fold up into pockets on the carapace for protection.
Ends of legs are blunt, but capable of driving into wood for climbing purposes, though too heavy to climb very high. The two foremost legs are thicker to allow for burrowing.
The mouth is framed by four mandibles with a light carapace plating, capable of finger-like manipulation. Tipped with tooth-ish protrusions.
The head is very much like a Tyrannosaurus, though plated with carapace.
The species evolved on a high gravity planet, so low-grav environs tend to be extremely uncomfortable.

'Misthophoroi' - A Sci-Fi Mercenary RP

Nono, that's perfect. I will begin working on my ikkle narrative, then. Cheers!

'Misthophoroi' - A Sci-Fi Mercenary RP

Hmmm.
Hmmmmmmmm.

I would like to forward my interest, specifically in filling a hole that doesn't look like it has been considered, and put forth an application for a medic. But I do have a few questions that you may have answered and I missed, so forgive me if any these are redundant:

How advanced is technology? I know you listed several series that I am unfamiliar with, but just a galactic average on computer science, data storage, food processing, flight technology, etc, would be neat. I understand GURPS Tech Levels, if that helps.

You did say that aliens were okay, but also said you wanted a mostly human team. Xenobiology would kind of be necessary either way, I suppose, but how many species are well known enough for a human to learn medical practises for them?

More on tech: How are you getting around the travel times between stars? FTL, cold storage, something else fun and exciting?

If I do end up making an alien, precisely how truly alien can I get? Size would be a problem on a human built ship, as would certain biological issues, so that question becomes somewhat important.

And lastly, how do you feel about AIs?

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Nicole

---

Serious caution. This post is not going to be a fun ride. So, y'know. Trigger warning in effect, especially for depressive issues and violence.

---

TRIGGER WARNING IN EFFECT

The Wayward Center, Lost Haven
5:36 AM

It had been hours. Maybe days. Nicole glanced at the clock on the wall of the little room they had placed her in, from her position on the bed, where she had flopped down. Ah. Five minutes. Maybe I should get a watch. The image of her father's wrist flickered through her mind, and she almost lost it again. Instinct caused her to curl up defensively, hands over her ears, but she managed to fend of the flashback this time. Her eyes still brimmed with tears, though.

The woman, Alice, had talked her down, though it had been kind of a close thing. After she had come down, deep, inky darkness had clouded into her mind. It choked her thoughts, except for one driving one that came on the edge of it like flotsam on the tide. I should have died with them. It had taken Alice and two other people to wrestle the knife out of her hands, but not before she had broken it against her wrist, screaming at them to just let her die. But it was useless. As she had begun to suspect weeks ago, she couldn't die. Not of starvation, explosions, or knives, at least. She had some sort of impenetrable forcefield around her or something.

They had managed to calm her down, and move her to this room, explaining it was hers now. Stay here as long as you need, please try not disturb others but if it's an emergency come get us, etcetera. Blegh. The blackness hadn't lasted long anyway, though now that she knew it was there, she could feel it. Crawling, oozing, trying to find a way past the hasty mental barriers she had erected. She had heard Alice saying no to a hospital, which was good. Nicky hadn't been to one before, but she was not looking forward to finding out she was crazy, nor trying to see if pills would work. She somehow doubted it.

The room was nice. No window, but the little bed was just comfortable enough to allow her to lie down without hating everything. Then again, for all she knew, it could be cardboard. She hadn't been uncomfortable since...Anyway. It had a scratchy wool blanket, blue and green plaid, and nice white sheets. The floor was some sort of dark hardwood, like downstairs, but here she had a thick rug to walk on. A little chest of drawers sat across from her, and a little hand mirror sat on top of that. Otherwise it was bare, but maybe they usually got people with stuff when they came here. As it was, she was in a hotel room, essentially, at least what she had always thought one was. That's what they looked like in the little detective stories her Dad had read to...Shit.

Well, breakfast would be soon. She'd probably eat, if only to make herself feel halfway normal. huh. Wonder if I can still poop. She picked herself up off of the bed, checked that she wasn't completely unpresentable, and opened the hallway door. She hadn't been paying much attention when she came up the stairs, which were at the cross of a T-intersection of hallways. Her room was at the far end of the right hand as she came up, with a door right next to the window. She glanced outside.

The blonde cop from last night was outside, just coming through the gate, chatting with Alice. Her partner was leaning against the wall, just lighting a cigarette. They both looked like they had come off a long shift. Maybe they've come because you're more trouble than you're worth, the little voice echoed from the ooze in her mind. She shook her head and began padding down the hall. Another girl was coming out of the room across the way from her. Couldn't be more than eleven or twelve, wearing a pink nightshirt. She waved at Nicky timidly, and was too adorable for Nicky to not respond in kind.

“Did you just get here?” the little girl asked as the both approached the stairwell, which Nicky honestly thought belonged in some fancy movie and not a halfway house. She nodded dumbly.

“Well, I know it's scary, but I'm Mandy. I've been here three months now. It's not so bad!” The girl's voice was squeaky, but not quite enough to be annoying.

“Yeah, uh. I got in last night. I'm Nicole.” She managed a half smile as they both reached the stairway. The little girl paused before stepping down, holding her arms out straight and hovering just before taking each step.

“Oh yeah? That's cool. I like Alice, she's really nice. What's your power?”

Nicky stopped between steps. What the hell was her power? “Um. I'm invincible, I think.”

Mandy spun on the bottom step and stared at her, with brown eyes that seemed to grow with every second. “Whoooooa! That. Is. Awesome!” She took off running for the kitchen, yelling to someone. Alice had just walked in with the blonde cop, and looked up and smiled at Nicky, calling across the lobby.

“So, you feel up to joining the rest of us for breakfast, Miss MacNamara?”

“Yeah, I figured I could be a normal hu-” Glass crashed upstairs. All three women froze in place. Nicky raised one eyebrow. “One of the more rambunctious residents?” There was a pop, like a firecracker. Two more windows broke, and the blonde's radio went off. She bent her head to it.

“Say again, Alfie?”

”-peat, building is under attack!” There were the sounds of gunshots, a rough staccato, both from the windows and the radio. ”It's those assholes from the teevee, Pat! Get the kids out now!”

The side rooms began filling with smoke, as did the top of the stairs. Screams echoed from the kitchen. Alice moved like a thunderbolt, waving kids out and into the rear hall, but she looked up the stairs with terror. Nicky heard her mutter, “...too early.”

The blackness came back, almost absurdly fast, whispering in the back of her mind that this would happen to every home she ever had, but Nicky was beyond depression now. Her sadness and fear had leaked out earlier, cried into a river in the arms of a woman who obviously had only one thing on her mind. She knew she would use the boiling in her mind in a moment, but Alice was right. Kids first.

The teenager fairly flew up the steps, grabbing three kids, one older than her it seemed, and two adults, guiding them through the smoke that was obviously blinding and choking them. Mark up another thing I'm immune to, I guess. She led them down the stairs, where Patricia the Policewoman was standing guard, calling into her radio for back up. When they passed, she moved with them, pointing her gun towards the front door. Which gave them no cover when Nicky thought a thousand wasps flew through the side windows. Both adults with her, one of whom was an old man, and one of the kids dropped like stones. The other two ran for the back rooms where the rest were presumably hiding. Nicky stared in horror, frozen in place, staring at a twelve year old boys sightless eyes staring up. He had been hit in the side of the head. She felt Patricia's hands tugging at her, but she shook her off.

Low animal sounds started in her throat, and she felt the anger from the streets boil up again. The day her family died. Those two assholes on the highway here. The Triads. The abuses she had faced every day walking to and from school. The powerlessness of Icon to do anything. The police, blaming her. Everything roiled in her mind. She felt herself move a couple of times as bullets struck her, and the blackness a the edge of her vision was burned away with white hot rage.

Which is, of course, when the power cut off, leaving only smoky haze and hints of sunlight at the edge. Nicky could see no targets until the little green lasers clicked on and the enemy charged through the front door. They were already firing. They obviously were not police, and they certainly not taking prisoners. Nicky bent down, heedless of the gunfire, and snatched up something glittering in the darkness. Glass. This'll work. Making sure it was steady in her grip, she lunged up from her kneeling position and slammed the shard as hard as she could, up under the visor on the helmet of the first soldier to reach her, screaming so loud she would have ripped her vocal cords apart if that were still possible. She saw the gout of blood as the man fell, screaming his own cry.

I may not be like Icon, she thought as she rode the man to the ground, still carrying through in her leap. I may not be any stronger or faster than you fuckers. She picked up the dead man's assault rifle, spinning it around inexpertly, but managing to pull it up to a hip firing position. I may not be super strong, or fling lightning, and be faster than the bullets. She spun to the side as a round hit her shoulder, pointing her now in the direction of the lasers. Two flashlights lit her up, showing her face, spattered in blood and shaking, almost vibrating with rage. ”But I can sure as hell pull a fucking trigger, motherfuckers!”

The clip emptied way faster than she was expecting, but she had gotten at least three of them. Hard to tell in the light. Bullets kept knocking her around, disorienting her, so she ran at the nearest laser. She couldn't see anything remotely well enough in the fog, so she gripped her now empty rifle by the barrel and swung it like a baseball bat in front of her, pleasantly surprised by the impact. Less pleasant was the explosion of force that hit her from the side, directly into her head, and set her spinning sideways in a complete circle before hitting the ground hard.

They made the terrible mistake of thinking she was dead, so she did not hesitate, but snatched the gun that had hit her from another man's shocked grasp, sliding it down until she found the trigger and turned it to blow a blast into one of his friends. It flared blue, and shot a gout of flame that engulfed the man. A shotgun, it seemed. She pumped the action and fired again. Another went down. Some sort of awful fire shotgun.

She only stopped firing when she realised there was no one else to fight. She was encircled by the dead, men in black body armour, spent shell casings lying around her and gun smoke hanging thick in the air. Thumps from up stairs, however, told her she was not clear of foes yet, though. A voice called out hesitantly from behind her.

“Are we good?” Patricia came out of the darkness. Nicky was panting, not with exertion, but rage. Mandy also stuck her head out. The police woman turned to usher her back, when Nicky saw the green dots appear on her back.

”NO!” she screamed, throwing herself with her arms wide between the woman and the enemy. Bullets slammed into her in rapid succession, driving her backwards with the force of them. Like a thousand blows to a punching bag, none of them were hurting her, but she was still only a fifteen year old. So she swung her arm back down and squeezed off two more round from the shotgun before it clicked in her hand. The firing stopped, but she could hear them reloading.

Patricia's arm dropped onto her shoulder, firing into the corridor. Holy shit she's using me for cover! Nicky might have been more taken with how awesome that was if she hadn't still been a rage-fuelled missile. As soon as the cop stopped firing and fell back, Nicky launched herself forwards, screaming like a banshee again and with no particular goal except to hurt everything in her path. The first one she got to was just raising his rifle again, so she grabbed the front of his jacket, fumbling for anything she could use. Her hand found a knife hilt and something else. Round. Small. With a pin. Yes.

The man shoved her off and raised his rifle, but Nicky threw the grenade at him, right into the light of the other behind as they did the same as him. She saw the hesitation as all of them realised what it was, but Nicky charged in right behind it, snatching a gun and firing wildy up the stairs as she went up the man and flew past them. She was pretty sure she only hit wall before the grenade went off, throwing everything into chaos.

She wasn't certain, having only seen movies, but as she was flung backwards along the lobby, she was fairly sure that grenades were supposed to explode with fire and bits of metal. So she was surprised to see a bright flash of light and then bolts of lightning flare across the bodies of the men on the stairwell. At least five more of the assholes went down to that. She got up, righting herself by sliding along the wall she had landed against, and strode over to the bodies. Not one moved. She could see Patricia staring from the hallway when she glanced around the stairs, so she proceeded up them. No one up there either.

As she hit the top, she was confused as to why the whole hallway shifted sideways, until she landed, skidding across the ground, and something big slid into her vision from the side of her head. Another bullet. A huge one. Apparently they had a sniper somewhere.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Because I am a dork.

Character Questionnaire

Silly questions to help fill out the more normal life bits.

---

Sleepin'

---

1a: Best dream your character has had.

1b:Worst?

1c: Weirdest?

2: Sleep style?(Using these handy charts.)

3: Do they drool? Talk? Sleepwalk? Other weird habits?

4: Music? White noise? Something else?

5: How many times do they wake up to go pee?

In the Mjorning

---

1: Is there a routine? If so, what is it?

1a: Are there wounds getting patched up on the regular?

1b: Singing in the shower?

2: What's for breakfast, typically?

2b: What if they're running late?

3: What section of the newspaper holds the most interest? Why?

4: Coffee, tea, or water? Or something else?

5: Are they actually getting ready for work, or just slacking off until they have to leave?

6: Do they leave on time?

6b: Is it difficult to do so?

7: Is there actually a job? Or are they just heroing/villaining it up?

7b: If they do work for the weekend, do they like it or hate it?

8: Are their co-workers terrible at this, or nah?

9: How about the boss?

Afternoon Hijinks

---

1: Lunchtime! Are they going cheap? Grabbin' a beer? What's going on?

2: Slow to get back to the grind?

3: So how long does it take before they're counting down to clocking out?

4: Off of normal daily activities! Do they head off to relax, or is it straight to extraneous activities the government may or may not approve of?

5: Avoiding the commute by taking...alternative methods of transport? Or slumming it p in the subways and buses?

6: Hobbies to take care of before things get rough in the darkness?

7: Are we respecting the noise ordnance, blasting music, or somewhere in between?

Sundown!

---

1a: For heroes: Patrolling like the Golden Age guys, or investigating long term stuff?

1b: For villains: Got somewhere to be for general mayhem, or plotting for a big job?

1c: For everyone: Or is it nap time?

2: Dinner on the go, or eat before they leave?

3: Night owl, or retiring early?

Bonus Round!

Quirks, traits, and other ridiculousness

1: Favourite music genre?

1a: Blastin' it or quiet enjoyment?

Least favourite song?

2: Sweet or savoury foods?

3: Alcohol, or nah?

4: Underwear style?

5: Guilty pleasure?

6: Most embarrassing childhood memory?

7: Dumbest common expression?

8: Worst one-liner?

9: Best hat?

10: Animal they unreasonably hate the most?

10a: Unreasonably love the most?

11: Least favoureite colour to include in a plaid pattern?

12: Do they watch sports? If so, which sport do they most like to see people injured in?

12A: Least?

---

I will add more questions later, mebbe.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Forge

Guest starring: DearTrickster

---

Los Angeles, California

Some time near dawn

Zoë was not feeling that it was going to be a constructive day, despite the upcoming call and pending move. Having slept for a fitful few hours, she was now standing bleary eyed in what remained of her kitchen, directing her helpers in packing up and shipping off the rest of her possessions to storage. Her work phone was in her pocket, along with her secured phone, while she held the civilian one in one hand, flipping through real estate listing across the country. She had already decided against remaining in California unless something spectacular showed up, and nothing had. Setting down the phone for a moment on the bare formica counter, she retrieved her overly large mug and sipped the now lukewarm tea she had made earlier, watching the workers over the rim of the cup.

Alex, one of several local boys that had decided to work with her full time while she was in LA, was pacing up to her nervously. The young man was perhaps twenty, fresh out of prison for gang-related crimes since he was fifteen, had leapt at the opportunity to make 'legit' money, and had so far proven to be rather more steadfast and loyal than the Frenchwoman had been honestly expecting from a young Latino covered in gang tattoos and wearing simply the worst in the latest “gangsta” fashion. No book resembles its cover, I suppose, she thought idly, watching him approach. He, like the rest, had at least glimpsed that she was a meta with significant power, and most of them let him speak for them, too scared lest she do something awful. She hadn't given them reason to suspect she would, but perhaps the social stigma of being a villain didn't help.

“Yes, Alex?” she asked as he finally got within a reasonable speaking distance. “Is there something the matter?”

“Uh...No, Miss, at least, not with the packing. We're almost through.” He had gotten over the habit of wincing in anticipation of being punished while talking to her, for which she was grateful, though he still remained incapable of meeting her gaze.

“What is it, then?”

“Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his shaved head, “it's just, we was all wondering...If you're leaving, is there still gonna be a job? Cause a lot of us gots family here, we can't just go, y'know?”

Ah, I was wondering when this was going to come up. Magnifique. “No, Alex, you won't be coming with me, but there will still be a job for all of you. I will be maintaining my business interests here, and in fact I have a job for you as soon as you are done here, if you want it.”

“Huh?” She knew he would be confused. She had yet to show any real faith in any of them. A byproduct of the natural paranoia that came with being a villain, she supposed.

“There are two tasks, one of which is very much more complicated than the other. First, though, I want you to take down this number.” She rattled off the Wraith number, the one phone she didn't have on her because no one was ever stupid enough to call her on it. “That is how you will stay in contact with me from now on. I want you to use burner phones whenever possible, at least until I can get you a secure line.”

Thankfully, Alex was a very intelligent lad. He would have to be, for her to work with him, but he was a cut above the rest as well. Not his fault the system let him and his family down.

“Okay,” he said, finishing typing it into his own device.

“Next, I need you to take several documents, which I will email to you in the next couple of days, over to the real estate office to purchase a property for me. I will be using it as my new center here, so I want you to make sure everything is nice and legal, yes?”

“Si,” he mumbled, still typing in his phone. She knew by now that he was taking notes, not texting someone, but it still irked her somewhat. Couldn't he use a notepad or something?

“Following that, I-” She was interrupted by a buzzing from her pocket. “Sorry, I have to take this,” she said, setting her mug down and waving him off. “I will be in contact. Finish up here please.” As he headed back over to where the rest were joking around and moving the last box onto the truck, Zoë retrieved the phone from her pocket. Her heart sank slightly, as it always did, when it wasn't her secret line. But it was work, and she had expected it. She flipped the little disposable open and hit the button for accepting the call.
 
A distinctly french accented voice greeted Forge by her alias in English, “Good morning, Madame Forge. This is Jacque with the Parisian Syndicate. Are you free to speak with me?”
 
Jacque waited patiently, minor background noise of industrial machinery could be heard filtering through the earpiece.
 
The villainess was taken aback for a moment, and her accent came back without her bidding. “Paris Syndicate? How have I not heard of this before now?” She shook her head and continued, schooling her voice but not bothering to hide her accent now that she had spoken with it. “Never mind. I am free, taking care of last minute business. You have something you need done?”
 
A slight pause as Jacque noticed the accent change, trying to figure out where she was from, naturally slipping into French. “I do not have work for you but rather hoping to set up a meeting for my partner whom wishes to employ you. They are in need of a metahuman who is particularly skilled with controlling fire.” He added, pleasantly, “The Shroud Syndicate is an international organisation, we operate out of Paris.”
 
He went on, his footsteps echoing across metal walkways. “I noted you are largely interested in the situation regarding these Hounds of Humanity, yes? My partner is as well.”
 
Zoë slipped easily back into her mother tongue, despite not having spoken it for months. “Yes. They are...a bother. I would prefer they were eliminated, burnt from their holes, and reduced to ash before they cause any more issues for anyone.”
 
She smiled to herself and said, “As for skill with fire, you will not find anyone who is hotter than I am. And I have some additional skills that may come in handy, depending on what your partner has in mind. I will say now, however, my services do not come cheap. Do you have a price range in mind?”
 
He laughed shortly at that, “Excellent. We share the same sentiment then. As for payment we can afford your rates upfront in full, half - whichever is convenient. You hold a reasonable reputation from what I have seen, running independently of course.” The footsteps paused then carried on at a leisurely pace as he explained, “For sake of convenience my partner will come to you and discuss payment themselves.”
 
“We have only have one simple condition to be understood before such a meeting to be agreed upon.” Jacque said,  “When will be a good time and place for this meeting? Barring any security measures, and protection of anonymity. We understand secrecy above all else. Names, location, accounts for payment will be done through secured networks. If you are interested, of course.”
 
Her eyebrows shot up at the words ‘up front’. That was unexpected. Whoever these people were they were obviously well-funded. She responded in French, herself. “I could make my way clear of my current task within the next few hours, so whenever your associate feels they can make it to Los Angeles will be fine. With the number of incidents with our mutual enemies, the only secure location I can recommend is where I am standing.” She frowned, rubbing her elbow with her free hand.
 
“If I remember flight times correctly, they will not be here until tomorrow, so I will have some extra security for their sake, but otherwise, I think it will be fine. If you have an email address I can send you the information, or the broker you spoke with before would also have it.”
 
“In case it wasn’t obvious, I am interested. Jobs are running a bit dry with this group’s activity, hence my haste to deal with them. So, what is your condition?”
 
“Ah yes, flights. That will not be the case, they are in Las Vegas at the moment. Enroute to Los Angeles before they leave the United States.” He said, “Security will not be necessary, they have their own… ehm detail in place. I will retrieve the email address and any additional contact information from the brokerage, I will forward it to my partner.” He took a deep breath, taking great care in his word choice. “The condition is, as I said, very simple. My partner… has a very particular expectation of respect. If you agree to not use crude language and maintain your professionalism during this meeting and subsequent employment, you will find yourself some very lucrative work following this job.” He added, rather slyly, “The Syndicate is always in need of hiring exceptional people.”
 
Zoë’s eyes narrowed as she pondered how a flight would not be necessary for getting from Las Vegas to here, but the person must either be a meta or have decided to drive. ”Very well, in that case I suppose whenever is convenient for them. Let the contact know my currently listed home address is acceptable.”
 
Her eyes lightened up and she smiled wide as she learned of the ‘condition’ of this supposed employer, though she was feeling a bit on edge at the terminology being thrown around. ”I am sure following normal business protocols should be easy enough, sir. I would like you to keep in mind, however, that there is a reason I have been an independent contractor, and unless the offer your partner makes is something utterly miraculous, I will not be taking employment with anyone, Syndicate or otherwise, in the traditional sense.
 
An exhale of relief but he chuckled at her comment regarding the Syndicate but choose not to comment further. There was no point to pushing someone on the first phone call. She would come to see their resources first hand.

Having stated that, her voice flipped up to an almost sickeningly cheery register, and not all of it was false. She felt good to have work, and even better to have it from her fellow countrymen. ”One security measure I will insist on, of course, is that we exchange photos? That way neither of us attempts to kill the other before the meeting can get underway. Unless your partner would prefer passphrases?”
 
“Passphrases, they prefer to do introductions themselves.” He replied. “The passphrase will be Fête de la Fédération for my partner. What will yours be?”
 
Zoë pondered for a moment, and then replied, ”La Maid devrait être un chevalier. Any idea when I can expect this partner of yours. I would like my associates to be gone by the time they arrive here.”
 
Jacque paused for a moment, finally able to place her accent. “I hear Orléans is rather lovely this time of year. If you don’t mind my saying, of course. Your accent is acute to my ears. Do not fret, I think an American would struggle to tell the difference,” He laughed, “Your passphrase is rather telling.”
 
Switching back to English, she smiled and said with a snort, ”Americans can’t tell their own accents from each other, what chance do they have with a more refined language? You can take the girl out of the city, but not the city out of the girl, eh? It would be very nice there right now, but I have not been home in a long time. Something about the work being not conducive to living in a city I love.”
 
Jacque followed suit as well, switching back to English, “You can expect my partner sooner rather than later. As I said, they are enroute.” He thought of warning Forge of The Ambassador’s more eccentric qualities but that would certainly ruin the surprise. “Merci beaucoup, Madame. We look forward to working with you.”
 
”You as well, monsieur. Have a pleasant afternoon!”

Zoë snapped her phone shut, glancing over to where the truck was just pulling away from the door and Alex was busying himself sweeping before closing the place up and leaving her alone. Well that was stupid. Now I have to go get new furniture and everything just for a meeting. She headed over to Alex, who reacted to her movement much like a rabbit would, freezing in place until he could see she wasn't angry. Which was also stupid, since everyone could see when she was getting angry. The walls tended to ignite.

"Alex, I need one more thing from you today, and then you are free to go do whatever it is you do during the day."

"Uhh, sure, yes ma'am. What is it?"

She pulled out a wad of bills from her pocket and peeled off what she thought was probably more than enough. "Go to, I don't know, Walmart or something, and get the nicest lawn furniture they have. Table, chairs, and whatnot. Go get me...ugh. Some crackers and fruit as well. Take your time, I will be gone for a while myself, but then I expect you back here by eleven, yes?"

"Okay."

"Oh, and keep whatever you don't use, but it had best be adequate items."

As he hurried off, Zoë opened her civilian phone and began typing in several queries. A local bakery, a tiny little boutique eatery that probably cost more than most people made in a week to eat at, and the 'best' winery around. Considering who she had just spoken too, none of this would be good enough, but it wasn't for her, either, and she was not likely to find actual French cuisine here on short notice without going into Hollywood, which she refused to do.

---

Several hours later

The sun had finally stopped making the ceiling glow with reflected light through the windows, something she hadn't had to deal with for while, since she had installed thick curtains over them when she had moved in. Checking her phone again, she sighed. Shouldn't have gotten rid of the television yet, she thought to herself, eyes glazing over slightly while she flipped idly through to available games to buy for her phone. It could be useful during the long dull hours of her career between jobs, though dulling her senses might be a danger.

She stretched one leg underneath the little table and set her heel on the opposite chair, pausing to admire Alex's purchases. The table was a simple small, circular table, wrought iron leg with four clawed feet and the same metal around the outside, framing a four foot expanse of small slate tiles in muted greens, greys, and blues. A small hole in the center would fit an umbrella that came with it, though she had bid Alex to keep it in his truck until later. The chairs were the same iron work, though they featured solid boards of some deeply dark-stained wood, formed so that the things were not at all uncomfortable.

Arranged on the table were several plates filled with slices of cured meats, fruits cut to bite-sized cubes, and slabs of a few different cheeses. Zoë had sampled two of them already, and though one was some sort of Irish cheese, and one of the ones she hadn't tried was a German, she had to admit it wasn't a terrible selection. Alex had done the best, however, in finding a bakery that sold traditional baguettes, a few of which were nestled into a woven basket with a cloth covering them to keep them from going stale. Her own prize purchases were several bottles of French import wines, the prices on which had been quite reasonable, especially given the hour. She had also not been able to stop herself from buying a set of four fluted wineglasses, the stems of which had a distinctly flame-like motif. All-in-all, her fellow countryman (or woman, they hadn't said) would at least find this attempt at a café table not offensive.

Having reviewed her preparations in other cases, she mentally checked off her own person. A simple red baseball tee with black accents, loose-fitting jeans, and a set of running shoes, all of which were as inexpensive as her the rest of her wardrobe so she didn't ever have to regret incinerating something nice. A snub nose .38 revolver in one pocket, and a pair of long fighting knives attached to the underside of her seat by way of metal brackets. The whole of the table could also easily be a weapon if she was pressed. And above, on the ceiling, a large box full of twisted scrap metal she had scraped off of her target range before packing everything up, easily within range for her to burn it open and rain searing shards of steel down on anyone inside a thirty foot circle. She didn't honestly expect to need any of these things, but knowing how dangerous some of her clients could be, and not knowing anything about this person or their 'security detail', caution was her comfort here.

Satisfied she had done everything she had the time to do to prepare, she lapsed back into boredom. Hopefully they were here before she had picked the food clean.

World Warriors: The Nomadic Fist (Quirky Fighting Game Influenced Roleplay)

Yen

She felt her companion slip off, and he called out for her to follow, but without his guidance, she was stuck. Knowing he had had an idea to help her, she waited, snapping her fan open, ducking behind it and feeling the rattle of bullets hitting it. If it only held out until whatever it was he did went trhough, she would be alright. He touched one, and she immediately triangulated it's position. Those are legs, then. It is massive.

And then the cold rain of the fire suppression system came down, infused with just a touch of ki, and Yen's whole world lit up around her. For a moment, she was disoriented. She was in a hallway, the entryway to the stadium perhaps? And now she could find her enemies. It took her but a moment to formulate a plan, and she put it into hasty action, seeing as Calvin was stuck against the wall and exposed right now.

The fan whipped around, and with it came the gale force wind she had charged up, the ki infused air blowing projectiles out of the air as if she was swatting flies. She used the momentum of the swing to fling herself up and forward, right foot snapping out as she passed one robot, pushing air like a blade out from her toes. She must have hit something vitals, as it fell like a puppet with its strings cut, though the light dusting of ki didn't allow her to see the details of what happened.

As she came down in the middle of a rough half dozen, she bent forward and swung the fan around in two wide circles from her back, using it as a shield from the hail of fire now aimed her way. On the second round, she slid along the ice Calvin had left behind, throwing kicks the whole way and pushing herself with a gust so she moved just a hair faster. Several more of the inhuman drones faltered and fell, legs crippled at the knee joints.

As she slid underneath the large one, she launched herself up with another gust, resembling nothing more than a wire-fu actor. But instead of flying through the air like an idiot, she landed lightly on the back of the things lower leg, then swiftly ran up its side, landing punches at any spot that didn't seem heavily armoured. She didn't seem to be doing much damage, but the incoming rounds from its compatriots did. Armour piercing rounds slammed into the thing from multiple directions as the others tried to track her unnaturally fast movements.

Reaching the top, she decided to try something that she never would on a human. Snapping her fan closed and sheathing it, she put both hands flat against the camera housing that acted as the things eyes and pushed with the air as if she was doing so against the ground, but she hardened it as well. Screaming, whistling air flowed forth through the gaps in the things head, and sparks flew out of nearly every joint as she flew backwards, slowing just enough to land neatly next to Calvin and smile at him. “Told you I could be useful.”

Her 'awesome' image fell apart as she felt her left leg falter a bit. She had been grazed across the knee and thigh, and blood oozed out of more wounds on her torso and right arm. Snapping the fan open as a shield for them both, she muttered to herself, “Damn. Not fast enough yet.”

@wxps350

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Nicole

LHPD

Of course he had to go. He doesn't have time to take care of one stupid teenager when he saves the world on a weekly basis, dumbass. Nicky sighed as she waited for paperwork to be finalised. She had finally relented, after deflating following Icon's departure, and given the police her real name, but refusing to give any details beyond that and her age. She had no doubt they would force her to become a ward of the state, but she was hoping that this Weird Ward or whatever it was would be less...Did she even know what orphanages were like? Not really, but they weren't gonna find a foster family for her anyway.

As time ticked by, she began to realise exactly how screwed up her head was. She was staring at the clock, and she couldn't actually keep track of how many seconds had gone by between seconds. It was as if the entire concept of time was gone from her head, vanished along with her old life. God, stop being morbid.

She carefully marked down, on the little piece of paper and pencil stub they gave her, what time things were happening. By her own mental reckoning, interminable decades, or maybe just seconds, had passed between them telling her they were going to release her and them actually doing so, though it had in actuality been something like three hours. When they led her out, though, it was directly to a squad car, where the officer driving explained that, because of the late hour and her age, they couldn't just let her wander off, so she was being taken directly to the Center.

---

The Wayward Center, Lost Haven

Hours of driving later, they pulled up to an old brownstone building, two stories tall with an iron-gated entry. There was a short, plump woman standing just behind the gate as they parked, and Nicky could see from the car that she had just been roused from bed, probably by a phone call. She idly wondered who had called in this visit from the station. Her hair was only in a loose bun, and she held a robe tight around her despite the warm summer night's air. She smiled at the officer as the woman walked Nicky up to the gate.

“Sorry we're coming here so late, Alice, but this is definitely in your field, not ours.” The blonde grinned sheepishly and winced at the cavernous yawn the older woman had as her first response, but calmed as she waved her hand in a dismissing motion.

“No...ah, excuse me. No, it's alright, Patricia, I understand. Let's see what we've got, hmm?” Alice swung the gate open to admit them, but the officer shook hr head and held out a slim manilla envelope.

“Sorry, can't stay. The whole city's going nuts the past few days. I'll stop by for tea some time this week if I can manage it, okay?”

“Absolutely, dear!” Alice turned to Nicole. “So. You're probably wondering why here, and why I am being so friendly, judging by the look on your face. But as it is almost four, I think your questions and mine can wait until we get some breakfast in us, yes?”

Nicole followed the woman sullenly into the building. The front entrance was home-y, with several older sofas and a coffee table, but also felt slightly clinical. There were several telephones at a conference table in an adjoining room, and the whole place had a warm yellow paint on the walls. Several doors led away, but they turned up a hall and into a dining room that more resembled a mess hall, and a kitchen divided only by a partition wall.

Alice gestured to a seat and whisked herself into the kitchen, clearly more awake than she was just moments ago. Nicole sat down heavily and propped her head in her hands, elbows on the table. She wished she had something to listen to, but her bag has disappeared in the bombing and she hadn't felt like fighting with the police to try and find it. Alice glanced at her over the divider and started in with the inquisition.

“So, young lady, what brings you to the Wayward Center?”

Nicole narrowed her eyes, but she couldn't really hear any condescension in the woman's voice. “Stupid police who can't tell a Chinese bomber from a teenager tangled up in a bike rack.”

Alice smiled at her, brown hair somehow now put into a neat ponytail. “I'm sure they were just investigating all the possibilities, but that's not what I was referring to.”

“Yeah? Okay, so I'm homeless.” Nicky was not liking where this was going.

“Oh, dear, I knew that already, without even opening the envelope. But they only bring metahumans here.”

God damn it, everyone and their dog already knows! Nicole scowled. “I don't wanna talk about it.”

The woman nodded, like she had already seen that coming, and went back to her cooking. There was the sound of eggs being cracked. Nicole could see the envelope sitting on the table not five feet from her. She was almost curious enough to investigate, but she felt like this was some sort of stupid test, and if this whole place was full of metahumans, then this Alice lady would be really powerful to keep them in line. Instead, she listened as the woman started talking, this time describing the place.

Apparently, the second floor was all bedrooms, including the one she'd be assigned to. There was a small garden out back for relaxation and food, and the first floor held the conference room she first saw, two class rooms, a sort of doctor's office, and several offices for running the place. The basement held their storage and also a practise room where people who didn't know how their powers might work could explore them. Nicky perked up at the mention of the practise room, almost without realising it.

“Ah,” said the motherly woman, coming around the corner with two plates, sliding one if front of her. “So you don't know what you can do, either. That's no issue, we'll figure it out together.”

“No, it's not-” The teenager froze as she looked at the plate. A perfect omelette, with green onions and diced tomato over the top, exactly how her mother used to make them.

”Nicole, come downstairs,” her mother's voice drifted down from the lower floor of the duplex. “Breakfast is up, girl, and I'll not have you lazing about all day!” Nicky moved her short limbs underneath her bed, moving as fast as her ten year old body would allow. She would not miss out on Saturday breakfast! She tossed off her pajamas and slid into a little summer dress from her closet hurriedly, then nearly flew down the rickety stairs and slid into her seat at the table almost as soon as the plate was in front of her spot. Her siblings were quick to follow. They all knew that today was the free day at the zoo, and while Dad couldn't come because of work, Mom had promised for a month now that they could go.

“Hey, come on, it's okay. Come back now.” Alice's voice was in a gentle whisper. Nicky came up out of her memory with the older woman's arms wrapped around her tightly. Tears ran freely down her cheeks, dripping off of her nose and on to the woman's robe. It was soft, and fluffy, and above all, smelled like a mom. Three months of grief and pain and anger came flooding back from wherever she had been holding it. She broke down, screaming and sobbing so hard she couldn't breathe, but since she didn't need to, it didn't stop. She could hear Alice say something to someone else in the room, but it was quick, and the woman immediately turned back to her newest ward. She was being rocked, but she couldn't be angry. Emotions ran through her like a river.