For a supervillain, Laraxis seems awfully distracted by things that don't matter.
Polo made his way back into the armory, scanning the inventory as he went, mentally noting through available weapons and configurations as he tried to get his mind off his internal frustrations. Even though he had little intention of actually utilizing anything that Laraxis had provided, it would certainly be useful to see what the mastermind may have thought would be useful to the resident cyborg.
Walking past, Polo took note of the rather flamboyant session of dress-up currently being indulged by several of the operatives, and rolled his eyes so hard he might as well have flipped himself over.
This entire enterprise simply reeked of inefficiency, so much so that Polo could hardly stand it.
On the one hand, Laraxis had a state-of-the-art armory, the technical know-how to create a fully-functioning, albeit subservient artificial intelligence, and enough silicon running through this place to power a mission to mars.
On the other hand, this man was emotional, prone to outbursts, obsessive about tea sets, and apparently enjoyed thinking about color-coordinated operative costuming in his spare time.
This was a discrepancy which Polo just couldn't wrap his head around. Unlike Laraxis, everything in his life had a place. Everything had a spot. It needed to do more than simply work properly - It had to sing. When something was out of place, wasn't working quite right, Polo had an overwhelming need to fix it, to make it right. It was an inclination that he would have assumed another technologically-inclined individual to have.
Instead, there was little here but paradox, a random assemblage of pieces that simply looked like an organization.
While Polo never would have considered Laraxis to be the emblematic symbol of stability, he certainly would have expected more cunning and control from someone who Cyrus believed to be a considerable threat. Instead, this situation seemed more, to Polo, to just be the actions of a petulant child who had lost a loved one, and decided to enact his own vengeance against the rest of the world.
To Polo, Laraxis was little more than someone playing at superiority - And this, perhaps was the clue to Laraxis' interest in him.
When you are but pretending to be superior, nothing is more attractive to you than someone who embodies the genuine article.
Polo took note of a small side-room that the AI, "Forty-Seven," had quickly ducked into, carrying a duffel bag of unknown contents.
He ducked out of sight as the bot left the room, making its way back toward the armory lockers towards where Citrine and Cheshire had been changing. With the hostess gone, Polo made his way to the door.
It was a deceptively simple hack to open the lock, and with an infrared, night vision, and super-heat scan of the room, Polo didn't see any physical sensors or alarms.
Cocky son of a bitch, aren't you, Laraxis?
He entered into the room, and noticed what looked like dozens of filing cabinets, mostly unmarked. On a whim, he tried one of the drawers.
Locked.
It seemed that his curiosity would go unrewarded.
Still, he took a quick peek into the duffel bag, finding an obscene number of wallets within, each with a different ID badge and a few hundred dollars in cash.
How desperate have these operatives been, if this was all that would be needed to convince them to come along?
Polo scanned a few of the cards into his database for later, being sure to replace them into their wallets. He didn't take any of the cash, however.
He was certain that these cabinets held secrets that he would most definitely find interesting, but without the proper tools, he'd be at a disadvantage.
Which, of course, gave him an idea.
He left the room, locking the door, and made his way back to the armory. Looking past the hand weapons and firearms, the explosives and grapnel gear, he finally found the materials section in the back, filled with odds and ends.
Sweeping an open space, he began a quick "shopping session," picking up what looked like a random assemblage of parts, before piling the pieces at the table and setting his skills to work at a small scale.
In about ten minutes, he'd pieced together what looked like a thick pen, capped with a convincing pen cap. He slipped the device into his pocket, but wasn't about to rush back to the room.
Instead, he meandered back to his locker, finally looking inside to see what awaited him.
Opening the door, he found only a small piece of paper. A blank check. At the bottom was Laraxis' signature.
In the memo, it said only, "An Expression of Trust."
Polo smirked, and slipped the check into his pocket before closing the locker door. Though it was, of course, symbolic, the gesture was an interesting one.
And, thought Polo. A pretty big mistake.
Korbanjaro Member
The Rogue Rook
STATUS: We are each an extra in someone else's movie. But we get to decide if it's a speaking part. 9 yrs ago
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We are each an extra in someone else's movie. But we get to decide if it's a speaking part.
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10 yrs ago
Currently looking for people for The Continental - Hoping we can get some traction going.
Bio
I'm no stranger to writing and roleplays, having written in quite a few over the years. I try to put a lot of thought into my characters, and even more into the projects that I take on, and I hold myself to a pretty high standard.
For me, the story is king, not my characters, and I write with that in mind. Inter-connectivity and relationships between the different characters in a roleplay are what make the writing interesting, and that means that writers need to avoid selfishly making their characters the constant center of attention. As such, I try to write by a very specific maxim:
Write for the story, not for your glory.
If you've got an RP that you think I might be able to add to, please feel free to shoot me a message. Glad to be here!
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Hey guys... I'm fighting the urge to type out chirping crickets here...
Posted, hopefully brought these disparate conversations into some kind of whole - Esty are we missing any information? Or can we cut into a new scene?
Polo could see that Laraxis was not amused at Hannibal's speech. But he suspected moreso, the monk was just annoyed that Hannibal had ruined part of his tea set. This was confirmed when Laraxis snatched the cup from Polo's hand, ignoring his dry inquiry into compensation.
The blood sample that he'd scraped from the cup, however, Polo tapped into his arm's analyzer tray. He linked with his base network and set the system to work.
"I'll give you reasons not even a beast could ignore," Laraxis said to Hannibal, pointedly. "You've made your home in the sewers, pitifully eating the scraps of humans alone in the darkness. Like a vampire, you can't reveal yourself in the light."
That's right. I'd forgotten about that. Hannibal didn't exactly drift into Polo's thoughts very often - The lizard was a rather repulsive creature, self-assured in his personal tirades and vendettas.
It's easy to see yourself as superior when you live among nothing but filth. But confidence bred from self-imposed exile is naught but an illusion.
Laraxis continued to glare at Hannibal. "Out of all the Operatives," he said. "You're the one they especially want put down. Did you know you have a bounty, internationally? Exactly five million in cash for whoever finds the enigmatic beast. Dead or alive, of course."
That's the official number, at least. Black market estimates put him at over twenty, easy. Thirty when alive, to the right buyers. Polo glanced at the analyzer scan on his glasses - the system was still looking for chemical makeup.
"What I offer, however, is so much more!" Polo could tell that Laraxis was gearing up for a sales pitch. "Be it money, compensation, the finer things in life," He nodded to Alter. Polo smirked in response.
"Or morality..." His glance fell on Hannibal. "I am here to help fight for your freedom. Aren't you sick of hiding? Of being looked down on for what makes you superior in every way? Are you done playing the masochist, ready to take back what is rightfully entitled to you - the lesser's respect, and their fear?"
We either adapt, or we fall away. There is no second choice, Laraxis. Out talents do not make us into gods, and it is our actions that garner respect. Not fear.
Polo had been right about this fellow from the beginning. Delusions of superiority, grandeur, and the goal to see the masses pressed to bended knee. This would be a more difficult assignment than Cyrus had originally implied.
Laraxis was now into the show of his speech. "I also offer an assurance from a sudden and unexpected death," he said, motioning to Cheshire and Citrine. The threats were becoming too commonplace - They were starting to lose their edge. A part of Polo questioned whether Laraxis had actually even killed anyone with that bootlegged KSP remote in the first place.
"Now, the mission in more detail..." Laraxis paced back and forth in front of the monitor, hands held behind his back. Polo kept his thoughts to himself, noting the continual progress on his analyzer as Laraxis continued. "The agency I mentioned would be the CIA. Their headquarters is situated in Langley, Virginia, a few miles off Washington.
Common knowledge.
"I have plane tickets, floor plans and decoders; no door should oppose you, and I trust your skills in espionage. The blueprints are in an underground vault guarded by sensors and cameras. As for the device behind the blueprints, you needn't concern yourself. Technology is my 'specialty', I will have complete control over the situation.
His specialty? Polo couldn't help his lips from forming into a smirk. He'd noted at least sixteen security flaws in Laraxis' base of operations just in the time that he'd taken to walk into the theater. A self-proclaimed "specialist" - Polo knew that a man's claims were only as good as his actions.
He noted the analyzer was about halfway complete.
"What do you plan to use this device for?" Polo inquired.
"The device itself will help assist in..." Laraxis seemed to ponder for a moment. "Mm, breaking a few choice individuals."
"Wait! Wait! Are you trying to ransom the world or something?" Said Cheshire suddenly, verbalizing Polo's thoughts. "Are you like some super-villain in those stupid movies?" Laraxis, for his part, seemed annoyed at the comparison.
"What I am, dear, is nothing that can be defined by a single word like supervillain," he said. "My goal is liberty, the means are insignificant. Those who oppose me will be swept aside as the dust they are. And if liberty comes down to ransoming the world, so be it."
"OK well liberty is all nice and fine," said Cheshire, crazy amusement in her eyes. "I'd kind of miss the fun of the masochism though. The hide 'n' seek is pretty fun."
Polo noted two more arrivals, and shifted his analyzer to the background to get a facial rec scan.
Sylvia Szypowski aka "Arsenic" - 24, Female - Poison and acidic emission, corrosion, and immunity.
Theodore Wenton aka "Ghost" - 27, Male - Material transparency and intangibility.
"Ah, the notorious Arsenic and Ghost. Any complaints to add, or can I continue?"
"I have a complaint," said Citrine. The annoyance on her face matched Polo's thoughts. "Though it could be interpreted as a question. How long will this Operative puppet show last?"
"Y'know..." Cheshire seemed lost in her own thoughts. Oblivious to the rest of them. "I think I'm in. I could do with something to do. Sounds like this could be a bit of fun. I'm just confused in one fashion: why threaten us with the Killy Thingy?" She glanced over at Hannibal and then over her shoulder at the newcomers. "You'd think that maybe one of us might y'know want your head for such a threat."
Her gaze then turned to Alter, of all people. "Or maybe you already have made plans for that. It wouldn't surprise me honestly, you mastermind-types are pretty good at plannin' I just do what I'm told."
"A trait," said Polo casually. "For which we masterminds are eternally grateful."
Ignoring that, Cheshire turned to Hannibal. It seemed that the cat had a short attention span, and needed another ball of string. "Been doing much work? That's quite the bounty you've got there. You certainly earned it."
A glance at the analyzer confirmed the chemical test was about three-quarters complete.
Hannibal seemed far more concerned with continuing his tirade towards the monk. "You speak of freedom," he said. "But why? Everything you say relates to death. My bounty is created by what you could only guess my activities were, the KSP as a threat, your... bipolar behavior... all leads to subconscious expression of PTSD."
"Did you swallow a psyche book there, Hannibal?" Said Polo. Probably not the best idea to quip at the lizard, but Polo was slowly getting more annoyed. This entire affair was turning into a waste of time, especially since Laraxis had already given them a target.
The lizard continued, ignoring Polo for the moment. He would not be deterred from his reverie. "The fact that you've taken the time to go through what little there was left of the agency to find out about our existence... The way you concocted this whole plan to dupe the military and want a weapon to give you the power to force the world into submission for us... The amount of homework you've done on reports about me and undoubtedly others..." Hannibal seemed lost in thought for a moment.
"You've done this before, haven't you Laxaris." Hannibal, it seems, had made his deduction. "And you lost something or someone... then failed." He stared hard into Laraxis' eyes for another few seconds, before he turned away to look at the rest of the operatives over his shoulder. He then turned back to look at Laraxis again, his arms falling behind his back and clasping each other, his fingers interlacing. "Have I ever told you the definition... of insanity?"
You would be the expert, I'd assume, thought Polo mirthfully.
Hannibal, for his part, didn't wait for a response, but instead turned his attention finally to the cat. "It has been a long time since I have heard anyone say anything besides garbled pleading for their life or screaming upon seeing me."
Polo stopped listening at that point. This was a creature that loved to hear himself talk, and looked for any opportunity to do so. Polo was just getting annoyed, but at least the beast had moved on to batter another target into verbal unconsciousness.
He turned his attention back to Laraxis, and looked over the specs of the building that the monk had displayed. A CIA facility wouldn't be too difficult, exactly. It'd just be a matter of hitting the right switches - Gaining the right access. More difficult would be the response. Without a suitable distraction, the Operatives would be looking at an army facing them down.
This would take some work.
At that point, the display on his glasses blinked in completion. 100%
Upon noticing the H30 compound at the top of the display, Polo immediately removed the glove from his left hand, and tossed it to the floor, checking his hand for any burn exposure. He scanned the skin quickly with his specs, but it looked as if he'd escaped any damage, barring the light smoke coming off of his glove.
Hydrofluoric Acid. Polo couldn't help a glance. He'd heard Hannibal mention the three molar solution was running through his veins, but thought it was just showboating.
How in the world is he even still alive?
The computer had prepared an extensive biological makeup. This would take some time.
Alright, Hannibal. Let's see what you're made of.
The blood sample that he'd scraped from the cup, however, Polo tapped into his arm's analyzer tray. He linked with his base network and set the system to work.
"I'll give you reasons not even a beast could ignore," Laraxis said to Hannibal, pointedly. "You've made your home in the sewers, pitifully eating the scraps of humans alone in the darkness. Like a vampire, you can't reveal yourself in the light."
That's right. I'd forgotten about that. Hannibal didn't exactly drift into Polo's thoughts very often - The lizard was a rather repulsive creature, self-assured in his personal tirades and vendettas.
It's easy to see yourself as superior when you live among nothing but filth. But confidence bred from self-imposed exile is naught but an illusion.
Laraxis continued to glare at Hannibal. "Out of all the Operatives," he said. "You're the one they especially want put down. Did you know you have a bounty, internationally? Exactly five million in cash for whoever finds the enigmatic beast. Dead or alive, of course."
That's the official number, at least. Black market estimates put him at over twenty, easy. Thirty when alive, to the right buyers. Polo glanced at the analyzer scan on his glasses - the system was still looking for chemical makeup.
"What I offer, however, is so much more!" Polo could tell that Laraxis was gearing up for a sales pitch. "Be it money, compensation, the finer things in life," He nodded to Alter. Polo smirked in response.
"Or morality..." His glance fell on Hannibal. "I am here to help fight for your freedom. Aren't you sick of hiding? Of being looked down on for what makes you superior in every way? Are you done playing the masochist, ready to take back what is rightfully entitled to you - the lesser's respect, and their fear?"
We either adapt, or we fall away. There is no second choice, Laraxis. Out talents do not make us into gods, and it is our actions that garner respect. Not fear.
Polo had been right about this fellow from the beginning. Delusions of superiority, grandeur, and the goal to see the masses pressed to bended knee. This would be a more difficult assignment than Cyrus had originally implied.
Laraxis was now into the show of his speech. "I also offer an assurance from a sudden and unexpected death," he said, motioning to Cheshire and Citrine. The threats were becoming too commonplace - They were starting to lose their edge. A part of Polo questioned whether Laraxis had actually even killed anyone with that bootlegged KSP remote in the first place.
"Now, the mission in more detail..." Laraxis paced back and forth in front of the monitor, hands held behind his back. Polo kept his thoughts to himself, noting the continual progress on his analyzer as Laraxis continued. "The agency I mentioned would be the CIA. Their headquarters is situated in Langley, Virginia, a few miles off Washington.
Common knowledge.
"I have plane tickets, floor plans and decoders; no door should oppose you, and I trust your skills in espionage. The blueprints are in an underground vault guarded by sensors and cameras. As for the device behind the blueprints, you needn't concern yourself. Technology is my 'specialty', I will have complete control over the situation.
His specialty? Polo couldn't help his lips from forming into a smirk. He'd noted at least sixteen security flaws in Laraxis' base of operations just in the time that he'd taken to walk into the theater. A self-proclaimed "specialist" - Polo knew that a man's claims were only as good as his actions.
He noted the analyzer was about halfway complete.
"What do you plan to use this device for?" Polo inquired.
"The device itself will help assist in..." Laraxis seemed to ponder for a moment. "Mm, breaking a few choice individuals."
"Wait! Wait! Are you trying to ransom the world or something?" Said Cheshire suddenly, verbalizing Polo's thoughts. "Are you like some super-villain in those stupid movies?" Laraxis, for his part, seemed annoyed at the comparison.
"What I am, dear, is nothing that can be defined by a single word like supervillain," he said. "My goal is liberty, the means are insignificant. Those who oppose me will be swept aside as the dust they are. And if liberty comes down to ransoming the world, so be it."
"OK well liberty is all nice and fine," said Cheshire, crazy amusement in her eyes. "I'd kind of miss the fun of the masochism though. The hide 'n' seek is pretty fun."
Polo noted two more arrivals, and shifted his analyzer to the background to get a facial rec scan.
Sylvia Szypowski aka "Arsenic" - 24, Female - Poison and acidic emission, corrosion, and immunity.
Theodore Wenton aka "Ghost" - 27, Male - Material transparency and intangibility.
"Ah, the notorious Arsenic and Ghost. Any complaints to add, or can I continue?"
"I have a complaint," said Citrine. The annoyance on her face matched Polo's thoughts. "Though it could be interpreted as a question. How long will this Operative puppet show last?"
"Y'know..." Cheshire seemed lost in her own thoughts. Oblivious to the rest of them. "I think I'm in. I could do with something to do. Sounds like this could be a bit of fun. I'm just confused in one fashion: why threaten us with the Killy Thingy?" She glanced over at Hannibal and then over her shoulder at the newcomers. "You'd think that maybe one of us might y'know want your head for such a threat."
Her gaze then turned to Alter, of all people. "Or maybe you already have made plans for that. It wouldn't surprise me honestly, you mastermind-types are pretty good at plannin' I just do what I'm told."
"A trait," said Polo casually. "For which we masterminds are eternally grateful."
Ignoring that, Cheshire turned to Hannibal. It seemed that the cat had a short attention span, and needed another ball of string. "Been doing much work? That's quite the bounty you've got there. You certainly earned it."
A glance at the analyzer confirmed the chemical test was about three-quarters complete.
Hannibal seemed far more concerned with continuing his tirade towards the monk. "You speak of freedom," he said. "But why? Everything you say relates to death. My bounty is created by what you could only guess my activities were, the KSP as a threat, your... bipolar behavior... all leads to subconscious expression of PTSD."
"Did you swallow a psyche book there, Hannibal?" Said Polo. Probably not the best idea to quip at the lizard, but Polo was slowly getting more annoyed. This entire affair was turning into a waste of time, especially since Laraxis had already given them a target.
The lizard continued, ignoring Polo for the moment. He would not be deterred from his reverie. "The fact that you've taken the time to go through what little there was left of the agency to find out about our existence... The way you concocted this whole plan to dupe the military and want a weapon to give you the power to force the world into submission for us... The amount of homework you've done on reports about me and undoubtedly others..." Hannibal seemed lost in thought for a moment.
"You've done this before, haven't you Laxaris." Hannibal, it seems, had made his deduction. "And you lost something or someone... then failed." He stared hard into Laraxis' eyes for another few seconds, before he turned away to look at the rest of the operatives over his shoulder. He then turned back to look at Laraxis again, his arms falling behind his back and clasping each other, his fingers interlacing. "Have I ever told you the definition... of insanity?"
You would be the expert, I'd assume, thought Polo mirthfully.
Hannibal, for his part, didn't wait for a response, but instead turned his attention finally to the cat. "It has been a long time since I have heard anyone say anything besides garbled pleading for their life or screaming upon seeing me."
Polo stopped listening at that point. This was a creature that loved to hear himself talk, and looked for any opportunity to do so. Polo was just getting annoyed, but at least the beast had moved on to batter another target into verbal unconsciousness.
He turned his attention back to Laraxis, and looked over the specs of the building that the monk had displayed. A CIA facility wouldn't be too difficult, exactly. It'd just be a matter of hitting the right switches - Gaining the right access. More difficult would be the response. Without a suitable distraction, the Operatives would be looking at an army facing them down.
This would take some work.
At that point, the display on his glasses blinked in completion. 100%
Upon noticing the H30 compound at the top of the display, Polo immediately removed the glove from his left hand, and tossed it to the floor, checking his hand for any burn exposure. He scanned the skin quickly with his specs, but it looked as if he'd escaped any damage, barring the light smoke coming off of his glove.
Hydrofluoric Acid. Polo couldn't help a glance. He'd heard Hannibal mention the three molar solution was running through his veins, but thought it was just showboating.
How in the world is he even still alive?
The computer had prepared an extensive biological makeup. This would take some time.
Alright, Hannibal. Let's see what you're made of.
I'm having a hard time understanding what's going on right now - Why is Cyrus suddenly appaearing as a hologram in the middle of the conversation? Weren't he and Laraxis supposed to be enemies? Why does Cyrus suddenly have complete access into Laraxis' system at his fingertips? Why would he be trying to reveal himself into this conversation so suddenly, before the operatives even have any usable information? Even if Cyrus had such omnipresent access, why would he show his hand now, without any real benefit?
I really don't know how to respond to this situation right now - This seems awfully out of character for the shadow-clutching Cyrus to suddenly proclaim his presence to Laraxis in the middle of the first meeting between shaky potential allies.
I really don't know how to respond to this situation right now - This seems awfully out of character for the shadow-clutching Cyrus to suddenly proclaim his presence to Laraxis in the middle of the first meeting between shaky potential allies.
Ah, so now I've got the Lizard-Man's attention, thought Polo dryly.
Polo couldn't help but smirk slightly, all throughout Hannibal's display. The blood, the teacup, even the explanation - It all just seemed like such a juvenile show. So unnecessary, and distracting.
Of course the KSP had been corroded. Polo had explained to the surgeons initially that such a device would be little but a temporary restraint, flushed from the creature's bloodstream within six months. He'd very quickly determined that even their control collar would be little but a minor deterrent.
Polo suspected there was little coincidence between the time it took for Hannibal's immunities to catch up to the physio-shock collar, and the sudden rebellion of Obsidian operatives.
As anyone knew, Hannibal was a rather potent wrecking ball, and now he was without a chain.
Polo said nothing in response to Hannibal's taunts. Better that the creature thought the bespectacled man was enthralled by Laraxis' plans - If the self-proclaimed "leader" was convinced, then all the better - It would keep attention firmly where Polo needed it to be.
"You want me and the rest of my family," said Hannibal, indicating the makeshift cadre.
Polo couldn't help but snarl a little at the association.
"To deliver you a weapon," continued Hannibal. "Of which has a potential to malfunction and create an event horizon capable of decimating our entire world, and later our solar system and the nearby surrounding planetary systems before stabilization."
Unlikely, thought Polo. The energy quantity needed for such a black hole would be astronomical. Even causing Sol to supernova wouldn't create such an event. A device like that would be small-scale. Single planetary body at most, and even then, of a temporary decay. A few thousand years at most.
Sometimes Polo wished he could shut off his brain.
"So you need this weapon," said Hannibal finally. "And you need us alive."
"That would certainly up our odds," said Polo dryly. He couldn't help himself.
"Of which I concur," replied Hannibal. "Living will make things much less complicated, but it brings me to my next question," he said.
Someone is on a tirade today, thought Polo.
"They struck bargains with me before the collapse to get me to do what they like," said Hannibal, with the gentleness of a pit viper. "I lived like a king among the operatives. Luxury was mine in everything I did. I could've had fools kiss the ground I walked on if I wanted, and then had them for dinner that night."
An exaggeration. But then again, Laraxis probably doesn't know that.
"I am not bound by the same strings that the others are. You need this weapon. I need a reason to aid in delivering such a formidable weapon to your hands, and I'll consider what you have to say."
"No more threats. No more protocols. No more operatives. Just you, and me in our sense of who has higher morality. Poetic isn't it, that I would be the one to ask?"
"You always were one to push against the order of things," said Polo flatly.
"A government should fear it's people," said Hannibal, turning to stare pointedly at Polo, before turning back to Laraxis. "If I am to take commands from you, I want to see how you react when you can no longer threaten me."
"Seemed more like a request to me," said Polo. "And who knows? Maybe our host is feeling generous."
Hannibal seemed unphased.
"I'm sure there are others out there who have managed to escape your confines," he continued. "And didn't bother coming because of it. What happens then, should they try and oppose you? How will you threaten them?"
I'm honestly not sure Laraxis has thought it out that far. You're giving him far too much credit, Hannibal.
"I am not the only one. Consider this my gift to you, Laraxis. You'll need it."
Polo would have liked to respond. But this wasn't his show. He had to play the delicate dance of willing 'second-in-command,' but not looking to usurp. This was a tango that could turn deadly with just one wrong step.
Luckily, Polo was pretty good on his feet.
"I'm also curious," Polo said to Laraxis, lifting and examining the teacup that Hannibal had ruined - a clear hole burned right through the base. "What other forms of persuasion might we be expecting? Surely you're not planning to leave us empty-handed at the end of this, eh?"
Polo couldn't help but smirk slightly, all throughout Hannibal's display. The blood, the teacup, even the explanation - It all just seemed like such a juvenile show. So unnecessary, and distracting.
Of course the KSP had been corroded. Polo had explained to the surgeons initially that such a device would be little but a temporary restraint, flushed from the creature's bloodstream within six months. He'd very quickly determined that even their control collar would be little but a minor deterrent.
Polo suspected there was little coincidence between the time it took for Hannibal's immunities to catch up to the physio-shock collar, and the sudden rebellion of Obsidian operatives.
As anyone knew, Hannibal was a rather potent wrecking ball, and now he was without a chain.
Polo said nothing in response to Hannibal's taunts. Better that the creature thought the bespectacled man was enthralled by Laraxis' plans - If the self-proclaimed "leader" was convinced, then all the better - It would keep attention firmly where Polo needed it to be.
"You want me and the rest of my family," said Hannibal, indicating the makeshift cadre.
Polo couldn't help but snarl a little at the association.
"To deliver you a weapon," continued Hannibal. "Of which has a potential to malfunction and create an event horizon capable of decimating our entire world, and later our solar system and the nearby surrounding planetary systems before stabilization."
Unlikely, thought Polo. The energy quantity needed for such a black hole would be astronomical. Even causing Sol to supernova wouldn't create such an event. A device like that would be small-scale. Single planetary body at most, and even then, of a temporary decay. A few thousand years at most.
Sometimes Polo wished he could shut off his brain.
"So you need this weapon," said Hannibal finally. "And you need us alive."
"That would certainly up our odds," said Polo dryly. He couldn't help himself.
"Of which I concur," replied Hannibal. "Living will make things much less complicated, but it brings me to my next question," he said.
Someone is on a tirade today, thought Polo.
"They struck bargains with me before the collapse to get me to do what they like," said Hannibal, with the gentleness of a pit viper. "I lived like a king among the operatives. Luxury was mine in everything I did. I could've had fools kiss the ground I walked on if I wanted, and then had them for dinner that night."
An exaggeration. But then again, Laraxis probably doesn't know that.
"I am not bound by the same strings that the others are. You need this weapon. I need a reason to aid in delivering such a formidable weapon to your hands, and I'll consider what you have to say."
"No more threats. No more protocols. No more operatives. Just you, and me in our sense of who has higher morality. Poetic isn't it, that I would be the one to ask?"
"You always were one to push against the order of things," said Polo flatly.
"A government should fear it's people," said Hannibal, turning to stare pointedly at Polo, before turning back to Laraxis. "If I am to take commands from you, I want to see how you react when you can no longer threaten me."
"Seemed more like a request to me," said Polo. "And who knows? Maybe our host is feeling generous."
Hannibal seemed unphased.
"I'm sure there are others out there who have managed to escape your confines," he continued. "And didn't bother coming because of it. What happens then, should they try and oppose you? How will you threaten them?"
I'm honestly not sure Laraxis has thought it out that far. You're giving him far too much credit, Hannibal.
"I am not the only one. Consider this my gift to you, Laraxis. You'll need it."
Polo would have liked to respond. But this wasn't his show. He had to play the delicate dance of willing 'second-in-command,' but not looking to usurp. This was a tango that could turn deadly with just one wrong step.
Luckily, Polo was pretty good on his feet.
"I'm also curious," Polo said to Laraxis, lifting and examining the teacup that Hannibal had ruined - a clear hole burned right through the base. "What other forms of persuasion might we be expecting? Surely you're not planning to leave us empty-handed at the end of this, eh?"
"It's most certainly in action," said Polo calmly, stepping toward the tea. "Live and operational, the KSP is fully functional with a global range. So I wouldn't bother making a run for it anytime soon."
"Thanks for the comforting news," replied Citrine sarcastically.
Polo smirked - It was clear that Citrine wasn't impressed, and for good reason. If Laraxis had wanted to kill them all, he would have done so already. The fact that they were all standing was good enough reason to assume the threat was mostly empty.
Laraxis, though, seemed rather impressed with his new ally, Alter, for reasons that Polo couldn't quite discern.
"You sound so dangerous when you say it like that," said their host. The greed that Polo saw in Laraxis' eyes made him a little uncomfortable. This man wanted Polo, or more accurately, wanted the technology that Polo could create for him. There was no getting around that.
The mechanical man just needed to make sure that he used that information to his advantage.
A phone rang inside of Laraxis' coat, which he retrieved angrily.
"I'm in the middle of something. What?" He snapped.
This guy is wound tighter than Hannibal over there, mused Polo. The phone's response was obviously something that Laraxis wasn't pleased with.
"He... He what?! Where the fuck are the wallets?!"
A response.
"And where the fuck is he?"
A response, and then a phone tossed to the side.
That was a perfectly usable iPhone, thought Polo. Never going to get the warranty now.
As Laraxis began speaking to a small, child-like hostess, Polo couldn't help but be creeped out by the little girl. Watching her mannerisms, though, he could tell that there was something... Off about her. Her gait was just a little too systemic, her movements just a little too controlled.
If he'd had to guess, he would have thought that 'Forty-seven' was less of a name than a version number.
He knew, from multiple attempts, that human movements were notoriously difficult to replicate. A device was only as capable as the computer that directed it, and the human brain was by far the most complex computation system ever divised. To even simulate such things within another creature was painstakingly difficult, and there were always little clues left in the uncanny valley.
Still, though, the doll machine's inner-workings could make for useful research, if Polo wasn't so creeped out by the thing.
As it left to perform its master's bidding, Laraxis turned back to the others, a small remote in hand.
"Now then," he sighed. "Help yourself to some tea, of course. But with more of you here, allow me to divulge the first step of my oh-so elaborate plan."
He pressed a button on the remote, bringing up the display of a device on the monitor behind him. Polo recognized it almost immediately - A glass cylindar with two rods connecting inside.
A Metamaterial Resonator?
"An intelligence agency in New York recently recovered the blueprint of a prototype weapon created by the Russians. This device has the potential to create an...
"...artificial mini-black hole." Polo finished the sentence under his breath, likely garnering a strange look, but he didn't care.
About a year ago, Polo had looked into the work being attempted in this field. A group at the Southeast University in Nanjing had performed a successful stability using a pocket-sized resonator designed specifically to capture and hold light and more importantly, microwaves, but the research had never gone much further.
Though Polo was interested in the technology as a curiosity, he'd never investigated further. The idea that a Russian group was also working on such a device worried him a little.
"I need it," Laraxis continued, undeterred. "Which means I need you, preferably alive..."
"That would certainly up our odds," said Polo dryly.
"Thanks for the comforting news," replied Citrine sarcastically.
Polo smirked - It was clear that Citrine wasn't impressed, and for good reason. If Laraxis had wanted to kill them all, he would have done so already. The fact that they were all standing was good enough reason to assume the threat was mostly empty.
Laraxis, though, seemed rather impressed with his new ally, Alter, for reasons that Polo couldn't quite discern.
"You sound so dangerous when you say it like that," said their host. The greed that Polo saw in Laraxis' eyes made him a little uncomfortable. This man wanted Polo, or more accurately, wanted the technology that Polo could create for him. There was no getting around that.
The mechanical man just needed to make sure that he used that information to his advantage.
A phone rang inside of Laraxis' coat, which he retrieved angrily.
"I'm in the middle of something. What?" He snapped.
This guy is wound tighter than Hannibal over there, mused Polo. The phone's response was obviously something that Laraxis wasn't pleased with.
"He... He what?! Where the fuck are the wallets?!"
A response.
"And where the fuck is he?"
A response, and then a phone tossed to the side.
That was a perfectly usable iPhone, thought Polo. Never going to get the warranty now.
As Laraxis began speaking to a small, child-like hostess, Polo couldn't help but be creeped out by the little girl. Watching her mannerisms, though, he could tell that there was something... Off about her. Her gait was just a little too systemic, her movements just a little too controlled.
If he'd had to guess, he would have thought that 'Forty-seven' was less of a name than a version number.
He knew, from multiple attempts, that human movements were notoriously difficult to replicate. A device was only as capable as the computer that directed it, and the human brain was by far the most complex computation system ever divised. To even simulate such things within another creature was painstakingly difficult, and there were always little clues left in the uncanny valley.
Still, though, the doll machine's inner-workings could make for useful research, if Polo wasn't so creeped out by the thing.
As it left to perform its master's bidding, Laraxis turned back to the others, a small remote in hand.
"Now then," he sighed. "Help yourself to some tea, of course. But with more of you here, allow me to divulge the first step of my oh-so elaborate plan."
He pressed a button on the remote, bringing up the display of a device on the monitor behind him. Polo recognized it almost immediately - A glass cylindar with two rods connecting inside.
A Metamaterial Resonator?
"An intelligence agency in New York recently recovered the blueprint of a prototype weapon created by the Russians. This device has the potential to create an...
"...artificial mini-black hole." Polo finished the sentence under his breath, likely garnering a strange look, but he didn't care.
About a year ago, Polo had looked into the work being attempted in this field. A group at the Southeast University in Nanjing had performed a successful stability using a pocket-sized resonator designed specifically to capture and hold light and more importantly, microwaves, but the research had never gone much further.
Though Polo was interested in the technology as a curiosity, he'd never investigated further. The idea that a Russian group was also working on such a device worried him a little.
"I need it," Laraxis continued, undeterred. "Which means I need you, preferably alive..."
"That would certainly up our odds," said Polo dryly.
Esty may not have told you, but the Cyrus conversation was given to me by her over PM to use for my post. I interjected Polo's remarks into it. But yeah, I went through the proper channels.
Posted, and replied to Cheshire. That was a little thorny - I'm hoping not to have quite so long a post next time. <grin>
PREVIOUSLY...
Polo's right thumb was twitching.
While he knew that this wasn't usually too big of a deal, today it was something to be concerned about. He flexed the appendage, the smooth pulls of his artificial muscles pulling the artificial plating, and moving his fingers.
Thirty-five muscles in the human hand, he mused. Seventeen in the palm, eighteen in the forearm. Not a single muscle in any of the fingers.
He rotated his thumb around, and used his left hand to flex it a little, working the movement to try and find the hitch.
My hand, though, may have a few extra.
He clenched the fist suddenly, and it gripped like a vice. Then he released the tension and worked the fingers again. Still - The twitch in his thumb was there.
This is going to prove annoying.
Polo stood from the couch, and began pacing back and forth. He picked up the hand grip from the coffee table and began squeezing it with his left hand, ignoring the minor twitch in his right. The muscles bulged a little in his forearm with each squeeze, and for a moment, he wondered if perhaps the twitch was just a nerve pulse issue that he'd have to look into. The problem was, there was a glitch in the system somewhere - And right now, he didn't have the time to go and fix it.
He dropped the grip back onto the table, and raked his fingers through his dark brown hair.
He should have contacted me by now.
Any other time, Polo would have just gone then and there back into his workroom and run a diagnostic. He would identify the issue, and fix it. The entire process would probably take about an hour.
But this, unfortunately, wasn't any other time. In all reality, he probably shouldn't be pacing about the room, either. But this whole thing had him understandably on-edge. He was awaiting a contact. And this one was important.
Suddenly, there was a flickering of blue on the couch. Polo glanced at the clock on his wall.
Well, only twenty-eight minutes late. Seems like my buddy's been busy.
The flickering continued as Polo finally sat down. He ignored his thumb and focused instead on the rapidly materializing hologram in front of him - The black-clad, trench coat-wearing, eye-patched form of Cyrus Locke.
"You'll have to forgive me for being fashionably late," said Locke. "The game's started, just as I was afraid of."
"It's nice to see you, too, Locke," smirked Polo. Locke didn't seem all that amused at the lame attempt at humor. His remaining eye seemed coldly serious. Polo chuckled slightly before simply waving. "Go ahead."
"I'm sure you've heard the news by now. The target plans to bring as many Operatives as he can under his control, and if he succeeds we're going to have our work cut out for us." Several profiles appeared beside Locke's hologram, with faces rotating beside code names - Citrine, Ghost, Hannibal.
A madman with his own super team of killers, thought Polo. Sure, what could possibly go wrong?
"The Operatives are powerful," continued Locke. "He could consider a coup d'état easily with his new team to do the dirty work."
Polo scanned over the operatives - This situation could get out of hand quickly, especially in a city the size of New York. Plenty of civilian risk, close-quarters engagements with these kind of operatives could end up with a significant body count - Not something that Polo was looking forward to.
"What does the guy want?"
"I don't know his goals," replied Locke. "This target is unpredictable. But action must be taken, and this is where I need you, Alter."
Polo had never been particularly fond of his code name. It hadn't been his choice, but the name had stuck as soon as his team had heard it. The number of times he'd been called "Alter Boy," too, were not his favorite memories. He'd tried to distance himself from it, but Locke was insistent - The name was a good fit.
"Tell me what you need," said Polo, quickly. Avoiding the name issue.
Suddenly there was a knock on Polo's door, which he glanced towards.
"Answer it," said Locke. "It's the delivery man."
Polo stood and walked to the door, where he found a small parcel sitting on his porch, about the size of his fist. His thumb was still twitching slightly as he picked up the box and shut the door.
Inside was a small device, circular with a small antenna. Polo turned it over and recognized it immediately as based on his own design.
"A hacking beacon. You could have just let me put one together real quick, Locke. Would have saved you the postage."
Locke ignored that. "With that device, I'll be able to lock on your location and hack information from all databases in your vicinity. Your task is simple. Head to Magnet Theater, west New York. The facility is underneath. When you get there, activate the beacon."
"Don't you have your own agents for this kind of thing?" Polo spun the beacon in his palm.
"He's looking for former Obsidian Operatives. My agents would be found out far too easily. I need someone he won't get a bad vibe from."
"If you say so," replied Polo. "But I don't think getting all of us old guard into the same room is such a great idea."
Locke tilted his head to the side, frowning. "I will convince the Operatives as best I can, but our target has a silver tongue when it suits his whims. Regardless, I'll see you at the facility, Alter. We'll stop this bastard, one way or another."
"Wait a second," said Polo. "Who is this guy that we're going after?"
"He calls himself Laraxis," said Locke. The hologram faded out, and the apartment fell silent once more.
Polo was stunned for a second, but upon hearing that name, his eyes became laser-focused. That was a name that he was all too familiar with.
It was now obvious why Locke had asked for his help specifically. If they were going to be taking on this threat, Polo was uniquely qualified for the job.
Laraxis... He picked up his jacket from his chair, and made his way to the door.
The memory of a fateful handshake just a single year ago flashed through his mind. It seemed that he'd be returned back to the viper's lair to settle a score. The good thing was, Laraxis didn't even know that they were playing a game yet.
Time to change that.
As he turned the handle, and walked outside, he made a mental note that he wouldn't remember for another hour.
It seemed that his thumb had finally stopped twitching.
NOW...
The first operative to arrive at Laraxis' little soirée wa not exactly who Polo would have suspected. A tap on his arm brought up the facial identification on his glasses, with a readout as the woman walked forward.
Katherina Ady aka "Citrine" - 22, Female - Hyper-precognitive abilities and emotive sensing. Possible translation into hyper-responsive reflexes and intuition.
The profile was a reminder that none of these operatives were to be underestimated, and engagement with each had to be handled with the utmost care.
Laraxis had seemed pleased to see him again, but there was no need for a dramatic introduction for these two. Instead, Polo, calling himself only "Alter," Watched this new meeting. He snickered briefly before just shaking his head.
This is going to get messy.
Polo watched from the side as the blonde approached Laraxis, not drawing too much attention from the others.
"I see you got my gift," said Laraxis as smooth as ice.
Citrine smirked right back. "I was so intrigued, Mr. Laraxis. 'Twas very generous of you, to be sure. Nothing's free these days, however, and I know there's a catch."
He waved her off, shaking his head. "No catch, no catch. Please, do you think of me so negatively? I have only an innocent proposal, one which I'll give once more of your brethren arrive." He gestured to a tea tray beside him. "Do you take sugar?"
"Hah, I don't know if we were that close." Citrine scoffed. "No, straight with a shot of peach Schnapps please."
The meaty sound of bodies dropping near the lift caught Polo's attention, but aside from the three unconscious guards in a pile, there was nothing there. Ghost...?
Polo quickly tapped into infrared, but couldn't see anything at first. It wasn't until he caught a shimmering eight-foot tall outline near Citrine that he realized what had occurred.
The profile was just a split-second behind his thoughts. Hannibal.
Henry Olin aka "Hannibal" - 26, Male - Lizard/amphibious based abilities with near meta-human strength, speed, senses and agility. Possible durability through ichthyosis. Capable of water-breathing, wall-crawling, and light-reflection camouflage.
"Citrine," said the creature, shimmering into visibility. "I'm hurt."
Hannibal looked from Citrine, to Laraxis, and then back to Citrine again, before noticing the tea. If Polo had to guess, he was playing at a mix of intimidation and evaluation. He couldn't recall if the goliath was particularly fond of herbs and hot water.
"Remarkable boy," said Hannibal with a playful seriousness. "I do admire your courage in calling us here. I think I'll eat your heart."
Polo rolled his eyes. This kind of humor was exactly Hannibal - It seemed the years hadn't changed much about Obsidian's resident lizard man.
Hannibal seemed to reconsider his feigned taunt and stepped back slightly. "Then again," he said. "All good things to those who wait."
"Oh Hannibal, you and your eating people's hearts."
Polo noticed their third guest.
Celeste Adaran aka "Cheshire" - 24, Female - Electrical abilities. Electrical absorption, detection, and emission.
This was an operative that Polo hadn't worked with. But apparently, she was plenty familiar with Hannibal.
Then again, who isn't?
"I do have to say," she continued with serious intent. "Cooked cow heart is pretty darn good. I don't think I could bring myself to cannibalism though. Long time no see to all y'all."
Polo couldn't read the expressions on the others.
"Hey Laxaris," continued Cheshire. "Are you the one that did that television stunt? Pretty crazy IMO. Is that Kill Switch thingy really back in action?"
A little perturbed that Laraxis hadn't taken the time to introduce him, Polo finally realized he needed to make himself known.
"It's most certainly in action," said Polo calmly, stepping toward the tea. "Live and operational, the KSP is fully functional with a global range." He grinned slightly towards Cheshire.
"So I wouldn't bother making a run for it anytime soon."
Polo's right thumb was twitching.
While he knew that this wasn't usually too big of a deal, today it was something to be concerned about. He flexed the appendage, the smooth pulls of his artificial muscles pulling the artificial plating, and moving his fingers.
Thirty-five muscles in the human hand, he mused. Seventeen in the palm, eighteen in the forearm. Not a single muscle in any of the fingers.
He rotated his thumb around, and used his left hand to flex it a little, working the movement to try and find the hitch.
My hand, though, may have a few extra.
He clenched the fist suddenly, and it gripped like a vice. Then he released the tension and worked the fingers again. Still - The twitch in his thumb was there.
This is going to prove annoying.
Polo stood from the couch, and began pacing back and forth. He picked up the hand grip from the coffee table and began squeezing it with his left hand, ignoring the minor twitch in his right. The muscles bulged a little in his forearm with each squeeze, and for a moment, he wondered if perhaps the twitch was just a nerve pulse issue that he'd have to look into. The problem was, there was a glitch in the system somewhere - And right now, he didn't have the time to go and fix it.
He dropped the grip back onto the table, and raked his fingers through his dark brown hair.
He should have contacted me by now.
Any other time, Polo would have just gone then and there back into his workroom and run a diagnostic. He would identify the issue, and fix it. The entire process would probably take about an hour.
But this, unfortunately, wasn't any other time. In all reality, he probably shouldn't be pacing about the room, either. But this whole thing had him understandably on-edge. He was awaiting a contact. And this one was important.
Suddenly, there was a flickering of blue on the couch. Polo glanced at the clock on his wall.
Well, only twenty-eight minutes late. Seems like my buddy's been busy.
The flickering continued as Polo finally sat down. He ignored his thumb and focused instead on the rapidly materializing hologram in front of him - The black-clad, trench coat-wearing, eye-patched form of Cyrus Locke.
"You'll have to forgive me for being fashionably late," said Locke. "The game's started, just as I was afraid of."
"It's nice to see you, too, Locke," smirked Polo. Locke didn't seem all that amused at the lame attempt at humor. His remaining eye seemed coldly serious. Polo chuckled slightly before simply waving. "Go ahead."
"I'm sure you've heard the news by now. The target plans to bring as many Operatives as he can under his control, and if he succeeds we're going to have our work cut out for us." Several profiles appeared beside Locke's hologram, with faces rotating beside code names - Citrine, Ghost, Hannibal.
A madman with his own super team of killers, thought Polo. Sure, what could possibly go wrong?
"The Operatives are powerful," continued Locke. "He could consider a coup d'état easily with his new team to do the dirty work."
Polo scanned over the operatives - This situation could get out of hand quickly, especially in a city the size of New York. Plenty of civilian risk, close-quarters engagements with these kind of operatives could end up with a significant body count - Not something that Polo was looking forward to.
"What does the guy want?"
"I don't know his goals," replied Locke. "This target is unpredictable. But action must be taken, and this is where I need you, Alter."
Polo had never been particularly fond of his code name. It hadn't been his choice, but the name had stuck as soon as his team had heard it. The number of times he'd been called "Alter Boy," too, were not his favorite memories. He'd tried to distance himself from it, but Locke was insistent - The name was a good fit.
"Tell me what you need," said Polo, quickly. Avoiding the name issue.
Suddenly there was a knock on Polo's door, which he glanced towards.
"Answer it," said Locke. "It's the delivery man."
Polo stood and walked to the door, where he found a small parcel sitting on his porch, about the size of his fist. His thumb was still twitching slightly as he picked up the box and shut the door.
Inside was a small device, circular with a small antenna. Polo turned it over and recognized it immediately as based on his own design.
"A hacking beacon. You could have just let me put one together real quick, Locke. Would have saved you the postage."
Locke ignored that. "With that device, I'll be able to lock on your location and hack information from all databases in your vicinity. Your task is simple. Head to Magnet Theater, west New York. The facility is underneath. When you get there, activate the beacon."
"Don't you have your own agents for this kind of thing?" Polo spun the beacon in his palm.
"He's looking for former Obsidian Operatives. My agents would be found out far too easily. I need someone he won't get a bad vibe from."
"If you say so," replied Polo. "But I don't think getting all of us old guard into the same room is such a great idea."
Locke tilted his head to the side, frowning. "I will convince the Operatives as best I can, but our target has a silver tongue when it suits his whims. Regardless, I'll see you at the facility, Alter. We'll stop this bastard, one way or another."
"Wait a second," said Polo. "Who is this guy that we're going after?"
"He calls himself Laraxis," said Locke. The hologram faded out, and the apartment fell silent once more.
Polo was stunned for a second, but upon hearing that name, his eyes became laser-focused. That was a name that he was all too familiar with.
It was now obvious why Locke had asked for his help specifically. If they were going to be taking on this threat, Polo was uniquely qualified for the job.
Laraxis... He picked up his jacket from his chair, and made his way to the door.
The memory of a fateful handshake just a single year ago flashed through his mind. It seemed that he'd be returned back to the viper's lair to settle a score. The good thing was, Laraxis didn't even know that they were playing a game yet.
Time to change that.
As he turned the handle, and walked outside, he made a mental note that he wouldn't remember for another hour.
It seemed that his thumb had finally stopped twitching.
NOW...
The first operative to arrive at Laraxis' little soirée wa not exactly who Polo would have suspected. A tap on his arm brought up the facial identification on his glasses, with a readout as the woman walked forward.
Katherina Ady aka "Citrine" - 22, Female - Hyper-precognitive abilities and emotive sensing. Possible translation into hyper-responsive reflexes and intuition.
The profile was a reminder that none of these operatives were to be underestimated, and engagement with each had to be handled with the utmost care.
Laraxis had seemed pleased to see him again, but there was no need for a dramatic introduction for these two. Instead, Polo, calling himself only "Alter," Watched this new meeting. He snickered briefly before just shaking his head.
This is going to get messy.
Polo watched from the side as the blonde approached Laraxis, not drawing too much attention from the others.
"I see you got my gift," said Laraxis as smooth as ice.
Citrine smirked right back. "I was so intrigued, Mr. Laraxis. 'Twas very generous of you, to be sure. Nothing's free these days, however, and I know there's a catch."
He waved her off, shaking his head. "No catch, no catch. Please, do you think of me so negatively? I have only an innocent proposal, one which I'll give once more of your brethren arrive." He gestured to a tea tray beside him. "Do you take sugar?"
"Hah, I don't know if we were that close." Citrine scoffed. "No, straight with a shot of peach Schnapps please."
The meaty sound of bodies dropping near the lift caught Polo's attention, but aside from the three unconscious guards in a pile, there was nothing there. Ghost...?
Polo quickly tapped into infrared, but couldn't see anything at first. It wasn't until he caught a shimmering eight-foot tall outline near Citrine that he realized what had occurred.
The profile was just a split-second behind his thoughts. Hannibal.
Henry Olin aka "Hannibal" - 26, Male - Lizard/amphibious based abilities with near meta-human strength, speed, senses and agility. Possible durability through ichthyosis. Capable of water-breathing, wall-crawling, and light-reflection camouflage.
"Citrine," said the creature, shimmering into visibility. "I'm hurt."
Hannibal looked from Citrine, to Laraxis, and then back to Citrine again, before noticing the tea. If Polo had to guess, he was playing at a mix of intimidation and evaluation. He couldn't recall if the goliath was particularly fond of herbs and hot water.
"Remarkable boy," said Hannibal with a playful seriousness. "I do admire your courage in calling us here. I think I'll eat your heart."
Polo rolled his eyes. This kind of humor was exactly Hannibal - It seemed the years hadn't changed much about Obsidian's resident lizard man.
Hannibal seemed to reconsider his feigned taunt and stepped back slightly. "Then again," he said. "All good things to those who wait."
"Oh Hannibal, you and your eating people's hearts."
Polo noticed their third guest.
Celeste Adaran aka "Cheshire" - 24, Female - Electrical abilities. Electrical absorption, detection, and emission.
This was an operative that Polo hadn't worked with. But apparently, she was plenty familiar with Hannibal.
Then again, who isn't?
"I do have to say," she continued with serious intent. "Cooked cow heart is pretty darn good. I don't think I could bring myself to cannibalism though. Long time no see to all y'all."
Polo couldn't read the expressions on the others.
"Hey Laxaris," continued Cheshire. "Are you the one that did that television stunt? Pretty crazy IMO. Is that Kill Switch thingy really back in action?"
A little perturbed that Laraxis hadn't taken the time to introduce him, Polo finally realized he needed to make himself known.
"It's most certainly in action," said Polo calmly, stepping toward the tea. "Live and operational, the KSP is fully functional with a global range." He grinned slightly towards Cheshire.
"So I wouldn't bother making a run for it anytime soon."
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