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In Royal Rumble: Rumble over the Heavens → 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

Chinami Nadakai

@supertinyking @Letter Bee @Dezuel

Were it not for her Spirit's protections, Chinami decided she might be blinking sunspots out of her eyes... perhaps even literally if the words of Blondie had any merit beyond the dramatic, as he summoned forth a ring of light orbs... and a blade to command them. Goosebumps erupted across the Goth's body at the very sight of the thing, the same feeling from when she scried him before now stronger than ever before, as Blondie unleashed beam of eye-searing light at The Man in the Suit, who dove for the cover of his d a r k n e s s.

As the thunderous pillar of light raged on, Chinami finished her movement, now well and truly placed between the brunet boy and hopefully any conventional harm. As the light began to die out, Chinami wet her lips nervously, ready to lunge forward if that had done the job... Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be the case. Though he'd apparently not gotten out of the attack unscathed, despite his defenses, The Man in the Suit wasn't even unconscious... and he seemed understandably peeved if the onslaught of shadowy projectiles was any clue.

Her Spirit's enhanced perceptions running as far as she could push them, Chinami had no trouble watching the barrage of golf-ball-sized orbs approach in slow motion... if a somewhat intimidatingly fast slow motion in the face the sheer quantity of them. Given what she'd measured regarding her Spirit's capabilities, she could estimate that, even with her not being at her best, these projectiles were moving somewhere in the realm of a seventh to an eighth of her Spirit's speed, around 80-90 miles per hour, easily equivalent to above average fastball pitches... and far and away too fast for any regular person to dodge without enhanced senses, especially in such furious, accurate and -most importantly- increasing quantities.

Her Spirit's head briefly left the shielding of her regular speed body to glance back at the brunet boy, who didn't seem to be reacting with any particular alacrity, which meant he likely had no way to evade harm on his own... as unfortunately predicted. The scry she had performed before had informed her of no other Gift but his ability to enhance other supernatural phenomena, and while it was perfectly possible that he had other abilities that were hidden from her sight -as had been annoyingly proven by Nightman and The Man in the Suit, she didn't get that same sense of concealment from him. Which meant he was, physically, a bog standard human. Unfortunate.

Damn, I have no choice but to shield him!

Gritting its teeth, her Spirit panned its glowing blue eyes across the room, looking for options. In lieu of the ability to dodge, the brunet instead needed a physical shield to weather the storm. One way or another, Chinami currently had no other path but to take the attacks head on, her own body and Spirit the only things she really could say for sure could handle it. Even so... If these orbs were anywhere near as devastating as the initial attack that had seeped into the floor... if that ominous effect applied to all of The Man in the Suit's utilizations of his Gift? Then they were in trouble. With that in mind, it would be better to still explore every possible option otherwise.

Her Spirit lunged at barely subsonic speeds for one of the nearby chairs in the room, snatching it up and quickly interposing it between Chinami's true body and the assault, as said body continued to back away in what felt to her was a glacial pace, her heartbeat thundering in her ears from each slow motion pulse.

The first orbs impacted the chair. Unfortunately the fabric and stuffing proved little to no obstacle, and though her Spirit's physical strength held the furniture steady, the orbs of darkness punched into it like bullets, the flimsy wooden frame splintering and stuffing rupturing forth.

And then the orbs exploded.

They weren't big explosions, not really, but they were there nonetheless, a series of blasts like firecrackers going off with purely physical force behind them, reducing the chair they'd pierced in mass to smithereens. Chinami's Spirit flinched away, the hands having caught some of the impacts, and for a moment, Chinami panicked a bit internally... before realizing that nothing more had occurred. To her great relief, nothing more than high physical force seemed to be employed in this onslaught. There was no lingering shadow on the remains of the chair or her Spirit, no creeping burn or unusual sensations. It was like getting pelted with beanbags. Well, for her Spirit, it was, the spectral extension of her soul being more durable than any regular person. For anyone else, the attacks likely would be equivalent to being barbarically stoned to death, even a single one of them potentially lethal if it hit the right place, like a rock being pitched at nearly 100 miles per hour.

Her Spirit had weathered the glancing blows, and yet still... It had, indeed, had to weather them to some degree, which meant the projectiles -and The Man in the Suit's Gift by extension- possessed the spiritual element she'd feared it might. He could hurt her. Sure, these weak attacks wouldn't do much on their own, but she'd actually felt them. If she was pinned down and forced to endure them for an extended period... then that damage would inevitably add up to something far more serious.

"[Living on a Prayer], not a single one goes through!"

Even now, her Spirit's arms and body ripped forth in a flurry of motion to deflect and detonate every last projectile that came their way, the spectral guardian far too quick for even a single one to conventionally pass, despite several curving, spinning and otherwise not moving in a straight line. Chinami hissed quietly, however, as -like she expected- her arms began to feel rather... tenderized. She could physically feel the bruises forming all across her hands and forearms. The onslaught was intensifying, but her defense held strong, even as a toll began to be extracted. She was certain she could hold out long enough to reach the brunet and teleport them both to safety... but she wasn't sure she could say the same for Blondie.

The Man in the Suit was beginning to encroach again, his footfalls spreading more of the far more worrying d a r k n e s s in annoyingly large and growing pools. And as he did so... a plan was beginning to form in Chinami's mind.

Even as her Spirit defended her and the brunet... she had it begin to feign slip-ups, had it occasionally miss a wider ranging attack or two, before finally snagging them when they got closer to actually hitting her or her charge. As her physical body retreated closer to the brunet boy, Chinami's Spirit was at all times kept within a strict one meter radius of herself, as though an invisible tether yoked it, as she did her level best to sell to the enemy the idea that she was straining to defend, was on the retreat in every way that mattered, and -most importantly- that her Spirit's range, despite its speed and power, was far shorter than the reality. A ploy to make the Man in the Suit overconfident, a feint to imply her as a trivial obstacle compared to Blondie, who had actually hurt him...

And a gambit to lure him too far into her actual range to defend when she finally struck back...
In The Wards: A Grimdark Teenage Superhero Story → 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

Sean Evens/Overclock


Date/Time: November 11th, 2022. 6:02 PM.

Location(s): Redline PRT Headquarters

Stage 3 Escalation Energy Pool: 1 hours, 36 minutes, 0 seconds


The other Wards were continuing to filter in, and Sean, despite currently being partially ramped up, had his mind running so fast managing all the new inputs that he felt a little overwhelmed in spite of it all.

Workshop's response was kind enough, but the small glower in her eyes only got confusion from him. Honestly, Sean wasn't sure what she was upset about. His caution? Well, maybe he was being a tad too obvious about it, but exactly how could she blame him? He wasn't the one making fuck-off-unstable wild card technology, so he had a right to be wary. The formality? It wasn't like he'd given her his, so why wouldn't he refer to her as anything other than her alter-ego, especially in a setting where secret identities might as well not exist. In the end, he only vocalized an, "Mmmm," in response and left it at that. They weren't exactly friends, and he didn't need his attention being pulled even more directions, especially given how much of it was focused on keeping an eye on her... gadget.

A younger boy in a rather dapper getup was next to arrive, and Sean could only raise a single brow at the finger-guns and greeting being shot his way. Given his current mood, he wasn't exactly in the best headspace to appreciate the overly familiar address; rather, he'd always been a bit tweaked by nicknames. Maybe it was the small aspect of outside definition, but he'd never appreciated being called by any name he'd not chosen for himself. And the comment on his jacket...? He snorted lightly. "It's nothing special. Bog standard stuff. No brand. I honestly couldn't tell you when or where I got it; I've had it too long." And honestly, it's not like he really wore a costume per-say; rather he was known in part as a hero for how down to earth his whole shtick generally was. Aside from a domino mask slipped out of his pockets when he needed to slow down to a visual level, he'd had no need for an actual disguise. Sean's other brow rose to join the first in the face of the normally fairly amiable Director's rather... chilly response to the newcomer as well. Maybe it was the hints of irreverent smart-assery Sean could already sense in undertones.

But his attention didn't stay there for long in the face of the absolute explosion of words that assaulted him from yet another newcomer, a younger boy, seemingly around the same age as the first. Though Sean wouldn't have quite bet on it; he'd never been the best at determining ages. To be honest, it was all he could do at the present moment to simply smile lightly and nod in the face of the... frankly, fanboy until said boy turned his attention elsewhere. Sure, having been a hero for two years, Sean wasn't unfamiliar with praise, but he wasn't exactly overly comfortable with it either, especially when it was this... much. Under normal circumstances too, he could usually make up an excuse to dart away at top speed, but right now, no such luck was with him. For once, he wasn't in a position to put distance between himself and admiration... to run away from the problem.

And that name... Hope? Well, it wasn't like Sean was against the concept of bringing light to the darkness, but that kind of name carried a weight to it, a responsibility. To take such a name carelessly in this world was the height of arrogance or naivety. Worse than that, such a name was an unspoken promise to the people you were going to protect, a covenant that would be all too easy to break. That was the sort of name that demanded expectations be heaped upon it.

This kid -Andrew- didn't know just what kind of fucking anthill he'd kicked over by claiming that title. That was practically catnip to villains looking to humiliate a do-gooder, practically taunting them.

Sean had never heard of him, and he'd kept tabs on the majority of the serious players in Redline these past two years. If this guy had been around for any significant amount of time, then he certainly wasn't making the kind of waves required to live up to the name he'd snatched. And if he hadn't been around long...? Well, that just sounded like thoughtless teenage arrogance to Sean. And sure, that might have sounded a bit rich coming from another teenager -if an older one, but Sean liked to hope he was more well-grounded than the average teen parahuman... or parahumans in general. He kept his own ambitions high, but ultimately realistic, expressed grand ideals but tempered them with the knowledge that change was never as simple as simply believing and wanting it. Shit happened. You couldn't save everyone, and to promise otherwise, to claim you could give more than you were actually able? That, quite simply, was to lie, to deceive the people with false hope, and such a thing wasn't fair to either side of the equation.

But he digressed.

The next to arrive had... honestly caught his eye in a way he wasn't initially expecting. A girl about his age in a bit of a frumpy getup with messy, pinned-back chin-length bangs that couldn't seem to quite decide if they were more brown or red. Either way, she was on a visual level... honestly somehow hitting right in his strike zone. She had a sort of effortless beauty, the kind that implied she didn't actually work for it, that it came naturally to her, which in combination with her clothes implied a certain level of modesty that he could appreciate. Vanity had never really appealed to Sean in girls, and between recovering from his Trigger, school, martial arts, work and his heroics, he'd never really found time or motivation to date. He wasn't the sort to use dating apps as some sort of naively hopeful quick-fix, and really, he was too busy before to even consider adding anything else to his plate.

This whole Wards thing... might actually be a solution to that, one he genuinely hadn't considered before, a silver lining to the bullshit. Now that he'd basically been forced to quit his prior job, he was no longer in an environment where his primary dating prospects were people he would have to gamble on trusting with his secret identity. And to be honest, that was kind of a sticking point for him. Maybe it was asking too much of the universe, but Sean was the type to prefer a romance to mostly... just happen naturally, not be a cheap thing sought out to fill an empty social hole or get a quick lay. He wanted something genuine, something with no secrets or -at least- not ones as big as him being a parahuman. Given how casual he was about it, anyone he got that close to would inevitably find out, and he didn't want to lie about that sort of thing to begin with, even by omission. He wanted to be open about his powers, be able to trust his secret with his partner. And before now... he'd never been in an environment where that would be implicitly universally the case. With that major primary hurdle out of the way? Well, suddenly, Sean was in a position he'd thought closed to him for a long while.

But that was getting way ahead of himself. He'd literally just met her for Pete's sake, and they hadn't even exchanged more than looks. Well, granted, she seemed to silently recognize him in some way, to which he simply nodded in recognition of her recognition, even if he couldn't guess what was going through her head. He didn't know anything about her other than the fact that she seemed similarly as unenthused with this as him... if her aloof standing off to the side was any clue, which, to be honest, was just another point in her favor. Maybe it was petty, but he was all for knowing he wasn't the only one not drinking the PRT kool aid. Before that though, he'd actually have to get her freaking name before he even thought of taking this line of consideration further.

How to do it though...

Well, he could always wait for it to be brought up naturally and piggyback off the offered info. If her disinterest was genuine, then he wasn't likely to earn any points with her for trying to drag her into an unfavorable social situation. The fact that she had pulled out her phone and an earphone and was now literally only half-listening to the proceedings seemed to reinforce this conclusion. Though... there were some inconsistencies... like the small smile that he'd likely not have noticed without his enhanced vision. Though, it was equally likely that was merely due to her enjoying a good song.

That line of thought was interrupted by the Director chiming in again about some apparent Tinkertech earbuds that were now getting passed around. While Sean wasn't exactly sure who this "Grey Man" was -whether it was one of his fellow Wards or some new member of the Guardians, the Master implications couldn't have been more blatant. Well, he hadn't been sure until the Director unceremoniously gestured at the dapperly dressed boy. Sean's stomach curdled in distinct discomfort at the idea of working with an obvious human Master, but none of that showed in his expression. Instead, given his current doubled speed, to an outside perspective, he merely opened and equipped his own earbuds a fair sight faster than the others, a small frown blooming on his mouth before smoothing away at high speed.

The implication that they would actually need such protection from their own supposed ally was not a good one. Either this "Grey Man's" power was involuntary, he had neither the will or morals to bother restraining it... or he was the sort to be actively conniving with it. And given the Director's unusually icy disposition towards the boy? Unfortunately, Sean was leaning towards the latter two.

Sliding the earbud case into his jacket's inner pocket, Sean watched with half an eye, as the frumpy girl caught the set tossed to her easily in both hands... while the trashy one scrambled but managed not to drop them as well.

The Director made a prompt for introductions... and a gesture for the frumpy loner girl to get with the program. Clearly, he wasn't enthused with her lack of showing even the most basic team cohesion. It was one thing to be of few words like Sean; it was another thing entirely to not even humor team unity by sitting at the table. In line with that mode of thought, Sean wasn't all too inclined to speak up first. Despite his power being the sort that might encourage a reckless "strike hard, strike first" approach, Sean instead was a more careful sort typically, especially when it came to the unknown. His power encouraged waiting, watching and carefully picking your moment. Sure, he could ramp up ahead of fights, but the energy waste was atrocious. Therefore, in life as in battle, he'd come to be a more reactionary sort, scouting out the unknown first before carefully choosing his course of action.

In short, he'd let the other Wards make the first move and then adjust his approach appropriately.

Unfortunately, Workshop seemed keen to take center stage, and as she called herself "Beverly" (a name Sean honestly couldn't recall), the device in her hands seemed to be making far more ominous noises... before going off-! Sean's Breaker state instantly hit stage two, and he jolted in his seat, almost standing up before his accelerated vision caught sight of what was spilling forth from the makeshift Tinker grenade.

Confetti?

Closing his eyes and allowing his Breaker state to slide back down to the first stage, Sean leaned back in his chair and struggled to calm his abruptly thundering heart, as the southern gal was swallowed up by a harmless mass of paper. The sudden crackling buzz of energy all too close to the Director shot both his heartrate and power level right back up again, as Sean stood abruptly in the face of a portal, prepared to lunge forward and pull the Director away from an intruder-

Only to cluck his tongue at the raggedy, afroed African-American girl stepping through the space gateway with an all too casual quip on her tongue for the ridiculously reckless stunt she'd just pulled. Sitting back down and scoffing lightly at her introduction as "Aaliyah", Sean really unfortunately couldn't help commenting dryly, "I know from personal experience that the Mover life can make things seem slow, but there are far too many ways teleporting into a highly-secure meeting between unmasked Parahumans could go terribly wrong for everyone involved." He ran one hand through his brown hair. "Honestly, it only takes one twitchy trigger-finger to get someone seriously hurt." Shaking his head, Sean bit his tongue to stop himself from pursuing that line of dialogue further, waving his hand with a sigh. "Never mind. Far be it from me stop you." From suffering the consequences of your own actions, he tactfully refrained from tacking on.

Honestly, realistically, he wasn't exactly in any actual position to tell the others what to do, so he'd have to count on the Director to do something about that misstep. As if on que, the Director did indeed make his own admonishment, nothing so specific as Sean's gripe but clearly stated and understandable. It was all too easy to get used to overusing one's powers for trivial things. On a certain level, that could subconsciously distance a Parahuman from the rest of humanity. Sean knew it well. even just being a hero at all created a vast separation between him and regular folk in his civilian life, discouraged connections for fear of being revealed. Given how much he hated the cold, for example, it was simply too mind-bogglingly convenient to run his power at first stage at all times while outside to knock the bite out of the wintery northern air. In most every other measure, however, he refrained from indulging casually; after all, it was all too easy to accidentally perform superhuman feats and not realize how it might appear from an outside perspective.

In other news, Frumpy Loner Girl had finally taken the Director's hint and come over to the table, seemingly also taking it upon herself to help Beverly out of her predicament. Sean blinked a bit at the apparent stutter in her voice and raised a brow outright at her introducing herself as "Memento", an obvious cape name. Why she hadn't returned the favor of using her actual name, Sean couldn't rightly fathom, however, especially given the whole glaring lack of masks thing they all had going on. Because, honestly, what was the point in concealing that detail at this juncture?

Shaking the ultimately minor gripe away for the moment, Sean raised another brow at her claim to be able to "heal". Now, Sean wasn't exactly a scientist, but he did have basic pattern recognition. "Healers", pure ones, weren't really a thing with Parahumans, not as far as he could ever recall hearing. Usually, that "healing" effect was a side-effect or twisted usage of their actual powers or just a supplementation to their primary suite. So, between her lack of elaboration and the Director's somewhat ominous commentary on the matter, Sean was inclined to gird his loins for what was shaping up to be an... interesting future reveal... in every Chinese proverb sense of the word.

The Director's heated expression and words dragged Sean's attention back to Grey Man (who had thus introduced himself as "Will") and Andrew, where the former seemed to be almost... off balance socially. Honestly, Will's rather show-boaty demeanor was already starting to grate at Sean, the unnecessary and curated dialogue setting the Breaker's teeth on edge. He'd worked in fast-food, dammit; he knew a feigned cordiality when he saw it, had been the user himself all too many times, in fact. Well, okay, to be fair, Andrew was also not giving his best showing, so between the two, they managed to flail at each-other socially in just the right manner to get along disturbingly well. Not that Sean was unhappy to see that Grey Man was actually getting some level of social outreach directed his way in these circumstances, but the complete lack of any manner of caution on Andrew's part -aside from apparently donning the earbuds without hesitation- was... unencouraging.

Sean barely managed to school his expression into one of mere displeasure, as Grey Man continued to ramble on. His expression briefly darkened when the boy made an absurd declaration of being a purveyor of illegal activity, before further elaborating that he'd just used his power... a power that hadn't been blocked by the nonexistent earbuds on Aaliyah. Sean's hands clenched into fists briefly in his lap, before he folded them onto the table all too calmly, lacing his fingers together lightly. Grey Man's power was obviously vocal-based, but he couldn't determine anything more about it at this juncture. The empty apologies that followed the act fell on deaf ears, as Sean closed his eyes and took a slow calming breath, restoring his composure.

Clearly, Grey Man had been recruited under circumstances similar to the bullshit the PRT tried and failed to pull on him. Either sign up and get with the program... or go to jail. In other words, Grey Man was most certainly not to be trusted at this juncture, not with such a clearly irreverent attitude towards using his powers on his own allies. The fact that he mostly failed was of no concern whatsoever, only that he even dared make the attempt at all. He was a blatant manipulator, one far less clever than he likely thought he was, and being effectively denied his power had apparently thrown him off his game enough to reveal his true colors. Now that Sean had seen them, he wouldn't be letting his guard down for a second.

Deliberately taking his mind off of what was now the second-most worrying member of the group -only led by Beverly "Time Stop Bubble" Workshop herself- was a challenge, but Sean found himself pursing his lips at the words of Andrew. The kid was a motor-mouth supreme was a blatant lack of social skills... and enough lack of subtlety to actually admit that out loud. Sean restrained a groan of embarrassment by proxy, his mind already conjuring the epic PR clusterfucks to come, as he briefly ran one hand down his face. The fact that Andrew had actually consulted the Director openly about his socialization skills -or lack thereof- and then went on to all but flagrantly ask out both Will and Memento simultaneously made Sean have to restrain a violent twitch of irritation. By that point, the frivolous hair color changing was honestly just the cherry on top, and the damned "dictionary" comment made him want to pull his own hair out.

Right, third most worrying member of the team officially located.

The Tinker with the cybernetic arm finally spoke up and introduced herself as "Jane". Her specialty... was interesting and apparently fairly broad, running the breadth of limbs like her arm to fucking mech suits... Though, she sounded a little oddly self-conscious about that. Maybe all her gear looked as Mad Max as her arm? In that case, Sean could see where she might be a bit tender about the aesthetics of her personal brand of technological bullshit. Aloud, he simply voiced with a grin, "Damn, nice. So, what I'm hearing here is that every little boy and girl's dream of following in Luke Skywalker's footsteps is finally in reach?" Lounging back in his chair, Sean chuckled. "Well, if Memento's healing doesn't work out, consider me signed the hell up. Mad Max limb is better than no limb, you know?" Something about Jane was honestly niggling at the back of his mind, like he'd seen that junky tech of hers out in the wild, come across some stuff vaguely similar in the hands of villains and other criminals, little supplements here and there that made more than one encounter more frustrating than it had any right to be. Originally, he'd assumed that tech came from Workshop's carelessness, but in hindsight... the "Mad Max" tech had always tended to be far more reliable in the end, less likely to backfire and defeat the enemy for him in a ridiculous manner.

Ultimately, Sean put those thoughts on the backburner, but given the circumstances...? Well, despite the assumedly extensive vetting process conducted by the PRT, he'd have to take things as they come and hope he was just worrying over nothing.

Shaking his head, Sean paid mind to the Director accepting Andrew's barrage of questions and answering them... honestly as smoothly as could be expected in this situation. The day's itinerary was finally laid out, and Sean nodded along approvingly; all of that sounded more than reasonable. To be honest, a group patrol at this stage was probably highly premature, but he refrained from voicing his opinion on the matter yet. Ultimately, the Director had the final say in such things... for better or worse.

Sean raised a brow in some measure of disbelief at Andrew's seeming immediate assumption that he'd take on a leadership slot. That sounded like way too much responsibility way too fast, especially for a gig he'd not even wanted to begin with. The Director, in turn, made some good points, but Sean ultimately nodded gratefully in response to the noncommittal answer given on the issue. He couldn't help a little chuff at Will's dry inquiry on a "dart board" or "spinner"; to be honest, there were worse ways to decide, and the randomization element would quell a large part of any jealousy that might be provoked. Sean smiled approvingly at the idea of a group "vote" of sorts on the matter of leadership. As an appreciator of core American ideals like the democratic process, he could more than approve of the idea of the team choosing their own head. Even...

"Why make it just one?" Sean shrugged with a familiar smile finally finding its way onto his face, the expression of a mediator, one he'd worn many times as a hero on the job. "Unless I miss my guess, it's not like any of us would have any real experience with being in command." Unfortunately, he didn't exactly consider his helping teach martial arts equivalent to the current matter, and openly advocating himself for such a position to begin with just left... some sort of sour taste in his mouth that he couldn't quite describe. "That's a lot more pressure and responsibility than people tend to give it credit for. In an ideal world, we could just make decisions as a united group, but if there's an insistence or need for a head, I think it would be much more reasonable to have two or three among us share the load, especially given our numbers."

The elevator opening again caught his attention, admitting a rather conspicuously alone -no officer escort in sight- blue-eyed older boy with a shock of white hair, obviously dyed this time for a change. The odds of a second Cape joining them that could also conveniently color-change their hair were long, so Sean had no reason to assume any different until proven otherwise. The newest newcomer was big, obviously athletic, taller than Sean even at a guesstimate, and it was easy to also assume he was of a similar age. The white-haired boy spoke with a sort of easy confidence when introducing himself as "Caiden", but... something about him was already setting Sean's teeth on edge.

It was nothing he could exactly openly put to words, but several things just seemed... off. The clearing of Caiden's throat to interrupt discussion and deliberately draw attention to himself even when simply walking over would have served well enough. The fact that his own addressal to the Director somehow managed to sound ruder than Grey Man's, despite the latter verbalizing himself more informally. There were a bunch of other little things, like the way he held himself, his clothes, his far more "friendly" presentation to the other Wards... Hmmm, perhaps that was it...? It was the way he was presenting himself. Under normal circumstances, Sean might not have twigged to anything being overtly off, but with Will making a show of himself and his own personal experience, Sean had more than enough immediate context to peg Caiden for another manipulator... one far more experienced and refined than someone that likely relied half on their power for things, which made Crosspoint, by contrast, far more threatening.

Shaking his head lightly, Sean tried to banish the spurt of perhaps irrational paranoia, but it couldn't seem to settle down, not fully. Ultimately, upon inner examination, he realized he didn't actually trust anyone here, not yet, not the way he needed to be able to. Before today, all of exactly no one had he ever willing told about his powers, so to suddenly be thrust into a situation where his secret identity was suddenly being spread to all and sundry amongst a bunch of teens that he couldn't rightly assume were devoid of a plant or spy despite even the PRT's resources? Amongst teens like Andrew, who seemed obliviously blunt enough to accidentally out any number of them?

In that situation, Sean could acknowledge that he'd held back from introducing himself for more than a reason as simple as wanting to read the room. At the end of the day, he didn't want to out himself any further than his face, and he could suddenly greatly understand Memento's position... if, indeed, that's what this was. Her apparent caution was one he now realized he shared. It was completely justified. So, now, the question is if he should show solidarity with that now... or wait to see if she'd revoke her stance to take on the one employed by the majority. Honestly, that was where Sean was leaning. Refusing to give out his real name would be a blatant refusal of solidarity and an obvious display of his mistrust, and further, the Director seemed like the kind of guy to not give a shit about his preferences and use his real name openly with the others regardless, completely nullifying the point.

Jane -the girl with the cyber arm- was speaking again... and asked a fairly relevant question. Why had the Director come after them. Coincidence? Power? Looking to add preexisting reputation and PR to the team through certain members? Hell, some members of this team were actively dangers to the others. Workshop and Grey Man were genuine threats for entirely different reasons, only one being hapless and the other a bad-faith actor enough to provoke specific safeguards. Wasn't this place supposed to be some sort of "safe space to train powers and avoid danger"? Well, granted, Sean considered that to be frank bullshit, considering how badly the PRT was outnumbered in Redline, but were they just unable to go the extra mile to at least give the presentation that their words were truthful? Were they that desperate for warm empowered bodies? Frankly, Sean was inclined to think the answer was honestly some mixture of all of the above, but maybe the Director had a different brutally pragmatic -or shockingly altruistic- answer in store for them...

Will's commentary on the matter reflected that assumed pragmatism, and glancing around at the ages arrayed before them, Sean had to agree, snorting wryly, "Seems about right. Just about everyone here seems to be on the older end of the spectrum. Obviously, most parents aren't stupid enough to pretend like we're actually going to be safe all the time, no matter what flavor Kool Aid the PRT is serving them, so the only ones that seem inclined to risk it for the big financial and support benefits are those with kids that are closer to flying the coop, the ones that can be reasonably expected to handle themselves." He crossed his arms and nodded with something of a half-smirk Will's way, leaning back in his chair. Regardless of his personal... issues with Masters, assuming the PRT wasn't a bunch of morons and had vetted Grey Man extra hard, then he was... moderately willing to give him the benefit of a doubt. Not enough to remove his earbuds in the younger boy's presence ever but... enough to give him a chance. It might have been different if the brat's power "slip-up" had been on Sean, himself, but for the time being, he'd give him enough leeway to watch his back and give credence to his concerns.

Then Andrew started talking again. The kid's admission that he was an orphan... explained some things. Though, even for an orphan, Sean had never seen anyone this clueless. A rather dark part of his mind suggested that it was this very behavior that had kept Andrew from being adopted to begin with, even at his age, but Sean shoved that brutal thought down. Sean barely kept his smile intact when the kid went on about some nonsense regarding anime of all things. Damn, this guy was really a mood killer, he couldn't help concluding. And further... the looks Will was shooting Andrew's way spelled nothing good for the future. Sean honestly wasn't sure how he was going to deal with this, having such a frankly gullible and grating teammate around, but then again, it wasn't like his old workplace had been all sunshine and roses. Shit happened, and some people were just going to piss you off. Being an adult was largely about being able to tolerate those annoyances and remain amiable and smiling in the face of it all, and if nothing else, Sean prided himself on his customer service.

Yeah... Yeah, that was it. He just had to treat the kid like an especially annoying coworker and only deal with him when necessary. Within that frame of mind, suddenly, Andrew became much more tolerable. It wasn't like he was going to have to deal with him 24/7, not even during Wards work hours. Surely, he could handle this much. To do anything less would be a disgrace on his reputation as a hero. Honestly, what even was he practicing martial arts for, if he couldn't stay disciplined and polite in the face of slightest amount of inconvenience? Self-control was the name of the game, and despite any appearances to the contrary, he had that in spades. His power demanded it.

In other news, it seemed Memento -who had apparently thankfully rejected Andrew's impulsive "date" request- had in turn been goaded somewhat into a demonstration of her powers... and of course Beverly was the only one reckless enough to actually let herself be injured to test them. Luckily, Memento had enough sense to make it a mere skin reddening, hardly an actual "scratch" by any definition. Her explanation that her ability was in reality injury transfer left Sean understandably distinctly worried, both about the obvious pain she'd have to endure to use it and about the potential psychological impact that would have long term. An ability that demanded self-sacrifice to use... sounded distinctly unhealthy by any account.

Her further elaboration that she could make clones of herself to murder for the sake of others did not fucking help soothe his worries. Sean barely managed to keep his expression merely concerned instead of outright aghast, as he vocalized what he felt were two very important questions. "Your power gives you some level of pain immunity, right?" he inquired of Memento. "Or, at least, you can transfer injuries directly from a target to a clone without using yourself as the middleman, right?" Frankly, if the answer to either of those questions was "no", then he was about to become a whole lot more fucking concerned. That didn't sound like a healer; that sounded like something... far more abusive.

The elevator opened yet again, partially interrupting his worried musings, as a startlingly small Latino girl with her hair pulled into a scrunchie shuffled in. Sean, for one, was genuinely taken aback by her age; she couldn't have been older than thirteen and way too young for this! Now, certainly Andrew and Will seemed young-ish, but they at least seemed to have already hit the typical teenage growth spurt. This girl most certainly had not. Given the display of comparative giants leveled against her, the girl's initially blatant nervousness was obvious. The fact that she was wearing braces in that suddenly plastered on smile of hers and the actual school uniform she was wearing under her puffy jacket also gave him something to work with. First of which was that an actual uniform implied she went to a private school, which generally implied both a home and schooling environment that "expected more" and were overly concerned with appearances. And braces implied that -at her apparent age- she was likely suffering some self-esteem issues. Parahuman powers didn't just happen, not without pressure... pressure he was already in a position to speculate about.

Now, Sean wondered perhaps if things had changed, but generally, braces tended to not be treated well by other kids, never mind teens. They typically got you slapped with stereotypes like "nerd" and mocking labels, private school or no. Bullying happened; attempts were made by little hormonal assholes even towards the likes of him. Sean had been lucky enough to be able to physically handle himself through any rowdier sorts and socially adept enough to maneuver through attempts to attack him other ways. He had been able to handle himself and been more than willing to throw away his teenage pride and get the school faculty and his parents involved, eventually putting a stop to continued attempts to screw with him. But not everyone was him.

The Latino girl found a seat without so much as a word to the rest of them, directly in contrast to her apparent friendliness. Rolling his jaw, Sean considered the approach to take here. He knew that older teenagers tended to be rather... intimidating to younger kids. He recalled as much. After all, he'd been their age at one time too. So, she maybe wasn't too enthused about all this when she could have been hanging out with friends her own age... Still, Sean knew younger kids tended to like being taken seriously to a certain degree, and girls did on average mature faster than boys.

Outwardly, he genuinely couldn't help an incredulous sigh at Andrew nominating him as a leader again, despite being clearly shot down by the Director... Only, Sean supposed, understanding the Director's implications would require some reading between the lines, which Andrew might be less than adept at... Shaking his head, Sean briefly pinched the bridge of his nose, before raising a single brow Andrew's way. "Look, we're not voting on anything anytime soon. And frankly..." He panned his gaze over the whole table, meeting eyes where able. "I would much prefer that sort of position only be awarded to me -or anyone else, for that matter- on the basis of merit. In case you haven't noticed..." He spread his arms and shrugged. "I'm a bit of a solo act in this city... or was till now. I can be as bright and shining a hero as the next guy, but that doesn't necessarily mean I know a damn thing about actually leading people, either charismatically or -more importantly, I'd say- intellectually." Setting his arms on the table and lacing his fingers again, he nodded, almost as if to himself.

"And besides which," he chuffed, "It seems in somewhat poor taste to immediately elect someone you don't even know the real name of, especially after all of you were so generous enough to offer yours already." Shaking his head, he shrugged and grinned. "Well, if nothing else, I can immediately remedy that little issue." And hopefully humanize himself enough to get Andrew to... maybe cool it with the fanboy routine. Certainly, he knew heroes could be idolized as much as any pop star, more-so even for fairly understandable reasons, but if he was going to spend extensive time with this group, it was better that they weren't looking at him like he was supposed to be Parahuman Jesus, even if he was objectively the strongest speedster Mover he'd ever heard of. Even if it was foolishly easy to fall into the trap of feeling invincible when he was sufficiently ramped up, it was much better in the long run for his team to know he did have limits, that he was as human as anyone else. People expecting miracles from him could honestly only end badly for everyone involved... especially if he allowed himself to be foolish enough to attempt to supply said miracles.

Nodding in resolution, Sean sat up a little straighter and leaned back in his slightly turned out chair. "Some of you may know of me for one reason or another, but it's not like I'm the only Parahuman in the world. For you out-of-towners that might be amongst us -and those of you who don't really keep up with the clown scene, I go by Overclock out there in the wild, as... several people have mentioned. That's my name, but I've never really gone for a costume in general. It's kinda been my 'brand' up till now, but I suppose it couldn't last forever..." He shrugged noncommittally, not letting show the discomfort thoughts about that particular impending change provoked. "Outside the domino mask, my name's Sean." He didn't bother with his last name. It was ultimately unimportant and an extra layer of security until someone decided to slip up. "I'm seventeen years old, and I suppose heroing is my high-octane "hobby". Though, I guess that's a bit of a frivolous word for it. I've been taking martial arts for long enough to be a black belt, and that definitely contributed heavily to my discipline as a hero, the kind that let me safely perform my work for the past two years without getting criminal charges lobbed my way or stepping on any toes... Well," he chuckled wryly, shaking his head, "not the ones that matter anyway." Quite firmly implying that the PRT didn't even factor into his consideration, not that anyone but the Director would grok onto that. "Then again, there was no Wards program back then to answer the call of, so now that there is..." He briefly spread his arms again. "Well, I am here."

In the meantime, Memento seemed to have decided to take a shine to the small girl of her own volition... and dragged Bev along for the ride. Rapping his fingers lightly on the table, Sean was a bit torn. On the one hand, he'd actually intended to reach out to the smaller girl himself, but he'd apparently lost his chance in the flow of introductions. Going over there now, where the girl was distancing herself from the group on a couch, would be probably a little overwhelming, having three teenagers suddenly up in her face and looming over her. Was there really an approach he could offer that differed from Workshop's enthusiasm or Memento's softness?

No, not really. Instead, all he did was shoot perhaps the first fully genuine smile he'd made since arriving in this glorified prison towards the Latino child. Whether she acknowledged it or not was hardly much his concern, so long as he was managing to project a moderately friendlier and more welcoming atmosphere from the main table. He'd keep half an ear on that conversation and chime in himself if an opening to bring things together presented itself... assuming the Director didn't just bull through like with Memento's hesitance.
In Multiversal Discord: The Mass-Scale Crossover RP → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

Bruno Bucciarati

Location(s): Paradox Engine, Control Center --> Medical Bay
Mentions: Ben @Mintz, Ash Williams @Eviledd1984, Doom Guy & Rarity @CHammer, Data @Dead Cruiser.


Bruno's head was pounding.

Certainly, under most circumstances, this many people wouldn't be a problem for his senses. Though, to be fair, he had only developed them while undead and basically incapable of feeling pain, so there was every possibility that what he was feeling now was the natural backlash he'd been spared before. Regardless, it bore emphasizing that the here and now was not "most" circumstances. His body was in terrible shape, an exhaustion unlike anything he'd ever experienced before making him sluggish and weak. No, rather, from his reckoning, his body was in better condition than it had been for a long time, and yet, it was that very thing that was hurting him. His body had been dead, a puppet of his disconnected soul, so this pain... Perhaps it was more than his empathic senses being overwhelmed.

Bruno was no biologist, but he knew enough to know where to hurt someone and where and how to treat them for injuries if he must. Giono had added something to his gang that they'd been sorely lacking, a healer, and one educated on such matters if for no other reason than to best use their ability. Granted, that ability certainly didn't follow the normal rules of such things, as Stands were want to do, but they all effectively received a crash course in matters of the spiritual. Giorno could manipulate life energy, and it was the ability to apply a sustained stream that allowed Bruno's soul to grasp his corpse and remain for a while longer. His body, in truth, had long since been bereft of life energy, the cells dead, so what he was experiencing right now was...

The cells reenergizing? Cell replication being restarted?

That was Bruno's best supposition for the bone-deep pins and needles feeling that had taken him to his knees before. If that was the case, it was only something that copious amounts of bedrest could solve... something he was not in the privileged position to indulge in at the given moment.

Even more people were appearing, some stranger and less human than others, but Bruno could barely comprehend them. A spike of mental activity from Terra sent him mentally reeling, as she attempted futilely to interface with the machinery as Ben's monstrous crab form had. Speaking of which... Bruno had been trying to tune everything out, but prior to today, his main concern had been trying to understand others at all. His empathic senses had been slammed wide open and held there with an iron will, and trying to pull back on them was like trying to invert the equivalent of muscle memory.

The damned crab getting closer to him certainly didn't help matters. The concern was nice and all, but it couldn't have possibly been less helpful in the here and now. In fact, were it not for the crab physically steadying him, Bruno might have blacked out entirely from the sheer proximity to the thunderous humming mind within it. So, to say the least, the Stand User unfortunately couldn't manage to muster a cease and desist, as he was ushered clumsily into the apparent teleportation device! Ben was saying something, directing words towards him, but Bruno genuinely couldn't parse them through the utter chaos that was the rest of its thoughts and the rising confusion they were leaving behind.

Regardless of his understanding however, his once undead body had, in fact, not eaten anything recently... which was likely the only reason his lurching stomach moments later didn't upchuck its nonexistent contents under the additional spot of pressure atop the rest of the current stressors. Now, normally, one might assume putting a fair amount of physical distance between them and the rest of the confused minds would ease Bruno's mental load and allow him to finally get a proper word in edge-wise.

They would be wrong.

Blaring white surfaces stabbed painfully into his vision, doing nothing for his headache, but to be honest, Bruno was less concerned about the minds left behind than the one that was here.

R A G E


Muted at first, but seemingly stoked moments after, the emotion all but choked the air, strangling Bruno's senses and seething into every breath he took. He had felt many minds since developing this ability, experienced insanity, sorrow, joy and anger in equal measure, but none had the... vitriolic permutation of this one, practically seeping into the pores of reality. It was a wrath so potent, so deep-set and nigh indiscriminate that Bruno had no doubt that even those without empathic abilities would be able to feel it. It was less a feeling being experienced by a person and more a projection of intent to do egregious amounts of violence to everyone and everything around them.

And it was here. While it was currently out of sight deeper into the complex, Bruno had no doubt that an encounter was inevitable, and he was not in a good position to handle it. Ultimately, there was but one singular issue currently suppressing him, and he had no room or even possibly time to do things the slow way. The teleporter sounded out again behind him; another voice was speaking, but between the titanic brain beside him and the bubbling pervasive wrath somewhere before him, Bruno heard nothing.

Gritting his teeth, the gangster forced his Stand into action, making to displace the crab's grip through the sudden appearance and injunction of its spectral bulk. He had not the strength to call its name, but even so, [Sticky Fingers] answered his commands with alacrity. As soon as the crab's grip was loosened, [Sticky Fingers] shoved him away from Ben, a bulky, golden zipper sprouting on the painfully white tiles to extend all the way to the furthest corner of the room. Taking hold of the zipper with one hand and gripping the back of Bruno's shirt with the other, the Stand propelled him away from the teleportation area in a barely controlled tumble, only his Stand's grip keeping him from being rag-dolled.

A moment later, Bruno choked out, "T-that form-! Hurk-! Off! Turn back!"
In Kakumei First Cour → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
In 𝔄𝔠𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔚𝔞𝔶𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡 ℜ𝔬𝔶𝔞𝔩𝔰 (𝔜𝔢 𝔒𝔩𝔡 𝔅𝔬𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔖𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔬𝔩 𝔣𝔬𝔯 ℜ𝔬𝔶𝔞𝔩 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡) → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks
Interesting stuff.
I think I might have a character concept that would go quite well with this RP.

Base idea: A fake princess. Basically a princess and the pauper situation... sorta. Base idea is that she was a body double/body guard/assassin for a trouble-making princess but helped her escape her royal life/consequences of her actions and took her place for the banishment lovely school trip. I'll admit, I'm struggling with the fine details currently, but that's the core concept.

I also have some leanings towards maybe the real princess dying, and the body double taking her place with none -or few, if any- the wiser. Maybe, the princess was killed by her carelessness of something. Heck, maybe in the course of training to be a body double and basically learning all the things the real princess was, said body double ended up looking like a far more appropriate heir, even without royal blood. So, someone assassinated the princess and arranged for her to be the replacement. Meanwhile, the "sending her to the school" thing is an excuse to explain why her behavior is changed when she returns to cover up the switch.
In Royal Rumble: Rumble over the Heavens → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

Chinami Nadakai


Thankfully, the boys appeared to be in a trusting enough mood, despite the circumstances, to ask no questions. Which was really quite good, because they were extraordinarily low on time. Time that was being wasted by their questions, leaving her unable to get much of a word in sideways aside from answering. At the least, however, she managed to apply the Anti-scrying suite of enhancements. And while they were nattering, she decided to slap Gift Ward, Enhancement Solidity, and Gift Draining Ward as well on them. While it wouldn't restore what they'd lost, not immediately, it would protect them from being drained further and stop Nightman from tearing down her protections as easily if he got a hand on them. The last of the three, she added to her current suite as well, along with refreshing her current set, just to hopefully close up any lingering cracks from the Doctor's assault.

To the blond, she replied, still in a whisper, "Not quite a captive, if barely so. It was too close for comfort, but I got the sense that something was wrong beforehand and came prepared." In regards to the mention of Nightman's allies, she grimaced. "I'm well aware. My Gift makes information gathering much easier. Hence, the preparation and my current freedom." She then shook her head. "I have half a plan at best. Nightman has every advantage, and his power is too dangerous to take head on." Her Gift Analysis, meanwhile, whirred along to her enhanced perceptions.

Core power, Throne de Lux. This time, with a deeper read, Chinami couldn't help smiling at the strength of the ability. It seemed some measure of luck was with her to have allies like these in her time of peril. Though... strangely, there was a certain feeling of unease she couldn't shake about the power, a feeling like a polarized magnet that almost made her want to flinch away. She could only downturn her lips in confusion at that.

Purifict Anatomia. The vast breadth of restorative measures available to this branch ability got her appreciation.

Lux Energia. Once more, that strange sense of unease rippled through her, but on an objective level, what she saw was of particular asset.

Damoclaiomh Solais. A third time, greater than either before, she felt that strange sense of unease, enough so to make her want to turn her gaze away. It was strange, almost like she was being stared right back at... But Chinami shook the feeling off. It was just a powerful sword, and if what she was reading was correct, then it hadn't been stolen at all by Nightman. Rather, it was something that couldn't be taken by the unworthy, by the unroyal. And Nightman, the pathetic thief, was the furthest thing from it.

"Oh? This One professes mine greetings upon thine august self. It has been some time, has it not?"


Chinami opened her mouth to tell the boys she was about to teleport them away, a good faith gesture of warning, only to be interrupted by the brunet. Frowning, Chinami's foot tapped on the floor in a rather stressed manner, as she tried to fly through his questions to get to her damn point. They were running out of time! "In order: He drained our fucking powers for himself, because he's a godsdamnned Gift thief, and I really couldn't care less about his goals." She paused, a strange sensation of strength filtering into her. A quick check and identification of the brunet's lone Gift as being Core Power: Highest Heaven, Lowest Hell solved the mystery. A Gift enhancer... useful, enough so that she felt like she was almost back to full strength. The odds against Nightman had just gotten far less slim. Even if he'd taken a fair amount from her, she should still hopefully be able to brute force through with this much of her original power restored. Not that she planned on being quite so reckless, but she very much appreciated having the option.

Shaking her head, Chinami refocused on the situation at hand. The brunet was saying something about leaving timed messages in the case of his disappearance, which was... Somehow even more paranoid than she was in some ways, but she could honestly respect it a bit... especially given that it wasn't paranoia if you were right. And well, looks like both she and him had been very much been correct. He was further speaking of Nightman potentially having very powerful friends, a worry she also shared, but she shook her head. "We can worry about that later. Right now, it's going to be bad enough just trying to get us all out of this clusterfuck intact. Look-" She licked her lips nervously. "We need to get out of here, now. I can, indeed, teleport us out of here, so hang onto my hands and-"

The lights f l i c k e r e d.

The shadows w r i t h e d.

Her Spirit was moving almost faster than she could comprehend the danger, its arms reaching out to both boys' shoulders to shove them in opposite directions, as the legs and torso wrenched Chinami's body sideways. A sythe of b l a c k n e s s passed through the space she once occupied, almost seeming to sink into the floor. It was a lingering streak of hungry emptiness, a darkness darker than dark, that almost seemed to eat the light... and everything else for that matter, but Chinami could only keep half an eye on the phenomenon in the face of the perpetrator's appearance.

The Man in the Suit.

Their physical exit was cut off, and although the endangered trio were spread out, Chinami knew if she could just get her hands on both of the boys again, they could escape... But... what if this was better? This was what she wanted, right? This was the plan? She needed to pick off Nightman's allies first and hopefully deprive him of power. And better yet, she could use this Man in the Suit as a way to learn about Nightman's Gift by proxy! All they had to do was defeat him... quickly.

Chinami's first act was to slap the wall she'd landed near with one of her Spirit's hands, altering the room, as magical runes of an alternate possibility blossomed within the walls. Incoming Alternate Existence Warding. With that, Nightman should be barred from ambushing them for a bit, while still allowing she and her allies to flee when the time came. From this point forward, the battle was joined, and the Man in the Suit would not be receiving aid... not without fleeing. Luckily, he didn't seem keen to.

Using her Spirit to enhance her perceptions and give herself extra time to think, Chinami squinted at the Man in the Suit, directing her Gift Analysis at him, only to recieve... almost nothing... a familiar amount of almost nothing, in fact. Was it possible that Nightman hadn't actually thrown up scrying wards and was merely drawing from his ally's Gift before? The only thing she was able to glean, as with the last time, was a name:

Shroudcaller. Pretty on the nose, to be honest. She could only speculate what it did at this point... but she might be able to get around his defenses by being indirect.

Upon herself, she immediately bestowed Mystic Analysis and chanced a glimpse at the streak of b l a c k n e s s left on the floor. It- It was... deep and almost... hungry, a veritable hole in reality that would swallow anything that touched it for longer than a brief moment. At this angle and under such duress, she could only speculate further than that. She got a sense of more from it, but she couldn't say if the b l a c k n e s s led to an empty void, a pocket dimension, outright annihilation or the fucking nothingness of space, not without a closer look... one she was far from eager to get.

All she could do at this point was bark out urgently, "The Darkness is hungry! Do not let it touch you!" Enveloping herself in her Spirit and praying that would protect her in the worst-case scenario, she added, "His Gift is named Shroudcaller! Can't tell what it does exactly, but, Blondie, that sounds like your scene! I'll do my best to support you!" And, indeed, it was... or so she hoped. Her priority would have to be keeping the brunet alive. Of the three of them, he was the most defenseless, and he was the only reason Blondie could fight at what she could guess -based on her own experience- was full power. With that in mind, Chinami began to move to place herself between the brunet and the Man in the Suit.

She didn't know if his darkness possessed the spiritual element required to break through her defenses, but if it could... she stood a much better chance of surviving it than the other guy.

@KillamriX88 @Letter Bee @Dezuel
In Grimoiric Heart → 3 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Wilhelmina right now:


Camelot right now:

LMFAO!
Basically! XD
Quality mems all around.
In Grimoiric Heart → 3 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay

Camelot


Bonnie's words... did not inspire confidence within Camelot. Not the tone, nor the flickers of her eyes towards the others. But, even so, the armored girl shook her head lightly and replied, "No, it's fine. Seriously, I'm the one that needs to be apologizing. I know this isn't the best time or place perhaps, but..." Camelot, for her part, felt the beginnings of a dull headache starting up, the kind of toasted out feeling of when you overworked your brain. Being called "leader" by the girl she'd hurt -if not physically- then clearly emotionally made her gut curdle uncomfortably. A flush of embarrassment struggled to reach her face, even as she restrained a grimace. "Don't... call me 'leader'. I've done nothing to earn your loyalty. This was dropped on all of us unexpectedly." The tremulous fake strained smile on Bonnie's face felt almost like a gut punch to Camelot. The rejection, the bold-faced lie, hurt a lot more than she'd expected it might, and to be honest, she was a bit miffed. Even if it stung more in the immediate, she'd have rather been told "no" to her face instead of fed falsities.

Which wasn't fair of her. How could it be? After all, if she were responsible for Bonnie's situation, then she had no right to get upset over a single rejection. Really, more than anything else, this proved to her that Bonnie was someone of remarkable strength in that area, but... no-one was an island. And if Bonnie was cracking under that pressure now, then frankly, Camelot almost felt it was her duty as someone with any level of basic human decency to help. Camelot didn't really know a lot about actually making friends, about making the first move in that respect, but she could learn... probably. She'd just have to prove herself genuine going forward and-

A rough, strangely-fluffy impact solidly rammed her away from Bonnie, and Camelot would admit, she was completely caught off-guard. She'd been so wrapped up in her thoughts, so focused on Bonnie that she'd not even considered the idea she'd be attacked, even harmlessly, not with Ozma right there. Stumbling away, Camelot caught herself, boots sloshing in the puddles underfoot. The impact hadn't hurt that much to be honest, but she'd not been braced for it in the slightest and was more shaken by the shock then anything. Even so, what pain there was seemed to be fading away under the Scabbard's ministrations... if at an oddly slower pace than normal. Shaking her head, Camelot's brow furrowed, as she straightened up. Squeezing her blue eyes closed for a moment, she grimaced at the throb behind them.

Why wasn't her Scabbard healing that away?

Dismissing the issue for the moment, Camelot couldn't help raising a single hand to rub circles on the side of her temple, as the other steadied her against the alley wall she'd been thrust towards. She glanced back towards Bonnie, where Burning Heart was... taking her place and was confirming what Camelot already knew, but it didn't sting less to know she was being lied to. A curdle of indignation dug sharply into her chest, and she sucked in a calming breath to dispel the abrupt spike of anger, fuming internally at the other girl's intervention.

How dare she interrupt! She was about to-! To...

What exactly? Fix things? How?

All she'd done was continuously make things worse somehow. In her own way, clearly, she was no better than Tesni. But where Tesni's fuck-ups seemed deliberate -even calculated, hers were from ignorance and failure, which, honestly, she felt was worse in some ways. Failure to control her temper, to stay herself from striking at her own fucking allies. Failure to read the damn room, to understand her fellows emotionally. Failure to be the leader she was supposed to be, to take command calmly and rationally. Failure to be a good example to her junior. Failure to prove herself in front of her seniors. Failure to do the right thing.

"Your report card came in today... Oh? Nothing to say? Talent? Lack of talent is no excuse. You're just not trying hard enough."

"And what if I didn't want to do any of that...? What if I liked fighting? It may not be the most lucrative thing, but it's... what I love."

"I didn't come to America to raise a failure. Do better... unless you'd like to no longer be taking those lessons?"

"I... just want to do what I'll love."

"Well, real life doesn't care."

As much as she was loathe to admit it, this was all she had, being a Magical Girl, saving people, being a Hero. And yet, what kind of hero was she if she couldn't be anything but a lone wolf, when everything broke down around her the moment she tried to reach out to others. Why was it that she did so much better carrying the load of her responsibilities alone, and yet, just this single addition was enough to tip the scale? Just this much more was enough to put cracks in her? Could she be that much of a brittle failure? This was the one thing she was good at, the one thing she could really do to make something of herself in life, and yet, she was failing at even this? And so explosively?

Failure. Failure. Failure!

There was an almost tangible pop in her chest, and Camelot found the hand rubbing her head shooting to her breastplate in a futile gesture, one that seemed to go relatively unnoticed given her position behind Burning Heart with said fox-girl blocking Bonnie's vision. A sharp, searing heat burned into Camelot from within, like molten metal being poured into a mold. It felt almost like her stomach had been lit on fire, and yet, somehow, the heat managed to be blunted enough to not make her shout in agony, merely clenching her jaw and biting back other noises. It was an almost intellectual awareness she had, that her body was suddenly inexorably burning up. A bead of sweat flowed down her forehead. She knew it was such and not rain from the way it briefly stung her left eye. Her muscles were aching and burning, as though she had just finished the most hard, driving workout of her life and managed to exercise every single muscle equally. And that burn... Camelot could only compare it to as if her body was being burned away, only to be healed by her Scabbard as fast as it could do so, barely keeping up.

Camelot's breath hissed out once more as actual steam, but this time, she could not deny it, could not simply write off the incident as the air being extra chilly. Something was off inside her, and her now full headache throbbed against her skull. She felt... felt sick, like she was running a severe fever. The heat inside her was almost unbearable, and if not for cool retaliation of her Scabbard, she might have considered reverting her transformation entirely. After all, she had no way to know if that feeling would abate in her far more vulnerable form. Was this something Burning Heart had done when she touched her? She couldn't say, but a small part of her found the idea of the fox-girl having a name so literal genuinely amusing.

It would have been more amusing if she wasn't cooking in her own armor.

Her breath, her every exhale, was coming out as steam now, misty at first, but thickening in time with the internal heat intensifying. To her enhanced ears, a rising chorus of hisses could be heard, as she spotted raindrops evaporating on contact with her armor. It was only the combination of the chilled rain and her Scabbard taking the bite off that let Camelot retain most of her composure, as she forced herself to straighten up, her fists clenched tightly to vent some of the pain-induced tension in her body.

"O-" Snapping back her voice, Camelot inhaled deeply, exhaling a thicker -if equally short lived- cloud of steam. "Okay." Somehow, she managed to conceal the legitimate physical pain she was in, as she spoke. "We're not good, but we're not at each-others' throats... I... Those Pageless before that fled? We should- We need to eliminate them, now that Tsubasa isn't around to pacify them." There was nothing else to say, as she beckoned them all to follow her lead here. Even if the presence of the Apex Pageless was still muddying the waters a bit, she could still roughly sense some deeper points of darkness nearby. She might have defended them before, but those were exceptional circumstances. In the here and now, she had her duty to fall back on. So long as Tsubasa wasn't about, the Pageless were a threat to those under her Aegis, and she would deal with them appropriately...

But with this searing heat...? She just hoped she didn't collapse before they made it back to the Academy.

Unbeknownst at first to the knight, the heat was by no means merely internal. And though it was only a strange warmth now that currently reached any within close proximity to her, that simple warmth was still growing with little restraint and would become uncomfortable and nearly outright sweltering in the course of the coming patrol, enough so that she'd find herself -more oft than not- putting physical distance between herself and the others so as not to bother them.
In The Wards: A Grimdark Teenage Superhero Story → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
I'd also be interested in joining, if there's still room.

And I know that technically the Wards team has already been chosen, but I might have an idea or two around it.

Speaking of which, what's your stance on a PC that's older and more experienced?

Or for a recently captured delinquent given an option to turn life around.

Several things.

1): Yes, there's still room. Mintz likes to do very large groups.

2): The Wards team is not completely finalized or anything. I'm guessing the GM will just edit the list the Director is looking at to include any new additions, or they can just leave it as is. The wording of that scene can also be taken to mean the Director is too mentally exhausted to want to read all the way through the list.

3): Generally speaking, he only wants Wards-age people. There's one exception that is still in the Wards for very particular reasons, and there's one Vigilante that isn't a Ward (who is only under consideration and might not ever be actually accepted). It's not recommended to go for older. This is supposed to be a Wards-centered RP. So, in terms of "older", realize that the cap is still basically Wards age. Also realize that you aren't exactly going to be able to play some "senior/more experienced" type so easily in a group comprised at least halfway of 17 year-olds. (the age scale for the group is vastly tilted to the older end of things)
  • Schrodinger: 18
  • Overclock: 17
  • Workshop: 17
  • Scraprig: 17
  • Gress: 17
  • Memento: 16
  • Grey Man: 15
  • Hope: 14
  • V: 13

In terms of "experienced", that's less of an issue. You can have them be as experienced and hardened as you want, so long as they still end up in the Wards for some reason. We have characters that have been active as long as 2-5 years before the present.
This AU has this being the very first generation of the Wards initiative, so you have plenty of breathing room for having a character that was left to their own devices for the most part before now.

4): "Recently captured delinquent" at least partially describes multiple of the current characters, and for at least one of them, it's completely nose-on. So, yeah, you could totally do this without issue.
In Royal Rumble: Rumble over the Heavens → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

Chinami Nadakai


Even as her relocation began, and the familiar feeling of being in two places at once briefly flickered through her, Chinami couldn’t help grimacing. Nightman had clearly caught on and thrown up his own scrying protection at the last moment, and that was… a lot of Gifts. If she’d had only her mere suspicions before, now she was absolutely certain. She couldn’t beat him alone. Given what she knew, however, that meant at least two of those powers belonged to the trapped boys. She hadn’t been able to glean much, but even a surface level glimpse of the basics of several was enough to birth a tentative spark of optimism within her.

In addition, she could be almost certain that two of the Gifts came from Nightman’s secretary and the man in the suit. If she could target and eliminate them, or even just get the chance to fiddle around with their Gifts, she could hopefully cut off a portion of Nightman’s power. If not, at the least, perhaps, she might learn more about his Gift by proxy.

If her own experience was any clue, the boys’ own gifts would be weakened to at least half their rightful strength. She’d unfortunately likely need to enhance them as well to get them in fighting shape. That was the only thing she could conclude, as her transportation resolved, depositing her well away from Nightman… for the time being anyway. She only prayed she could use the breathing room wisely.



Her scrying of the boys -though she'd only been half paying attention to it- had revealed to her surprise the two of them in the same room (seemingly the same room Nightman had taken the brunet to start with) already, with the blond and brunet both awake and fine, which was...

What?

They must have broken free somehow, her mind concluded. Dr. Nightman's malicious intentions were blatantly clear now. There was no way the two were up and about by his obligement. That was good news overall; it meant his stolen Psionic Bridge Gift wasn't as strong as she'd first feared. Still formidable, nonetheless, but less daunting now. Meanwhile, both boys seemed to be visually on-edge somewhat. Or, at least, the blond did. So, as much as she wanted to wordlessly jump in, snag them, and jump out, she knew that would likely be the furthest thing to conductive to positive relations. Even so, she needed to be quick about this.

That affirmed, Chinami chose to target the corner of the room as her destination, making sure she was well in sight of both boys on her appearance and -hopefully- less liable to startle them into going full "Gifts blazing" on her. When she appeared, she was certain she looked a bit... out of sorts, ruffled from the brief yet terrifying conflict, lingering sweat on her brow, and body trembling from adrenaline and terror. That aside, she shook her head and addressed them both in a hushed whisper, "No time to explain. Quickly, take my hands!" She prepared to imbue both of them with the same anti-scrying alterations as herself. First and foremost, she needed to take away Nightman's ability to hunt them down from anywhere. They needed breathing room, time for her to analyze what was wrong with them and try to undo it. And every second they weren't shielded like her was another second Nightman had to think up the proper use of her stolen Gift.

@KillamriX88 @Letter Bee @Dezuel
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