Hidden 8 mos ago Post by baraquiel
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baraquiel Angel of Moe *:・゚✧

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Lorelei raised an eyebrow. So this would be the official way for them to be recruited into their respective groups, she thought to herself. She was already oriented on the possible routes to take and chose DATA since that was where her talents and expertise were. Part of her did wish she was a shapeshifting kind of mutant so she could transform into the characters she liked, but she's content with what she had right now and will never let go of the techy-magica-superheroine aesthetic she loved.

As the others would probably do, she nodded in thanks to the greeter guy whose answers did suffice for their inquiries before walking to their respective booths. Perhaps he knew the group will only be satisfied when they went to the kiosks of their group. She actually didn't notice if any of them were DATA like her but then again, she barely took interest in other people especially if they weren't interested in her.

She noticed that instead of a human being, the one running the DATA booth was a robot. She took a minute to admire the craftsmanship that went into designing and creating it, figuring whoever built this was one heck of a smart gal.

Lorie tapped the robot's shoulder with her staff, making a surprisingly pleasant sounding clinging sound. "Lorelei Pope, heroname Starshine. I'm here to apply, or whatever the process is, for DATA." She introduced herself to the robot, then got closer to look at the screens then looked back at the four-armed robot. "How can your central processing unit able to process all this stuff? It's a miracle you're not like overheating or going haywire yet from all these data you're assessing at once."
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Hidden 8 mos ago 8 mos ago Post by Birdboy
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Birdboy Feathered freakshow

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Dermont stewed in the answer to his question, letting the group move on without him for a moment. He should have known better, but he was hoping this would be a big break for him. A chance to move out of his parents' house and make a name for himself. He could feel his cheeks getting rosy as he held back the mix of frustration and concern. He didn't have the money to rent a room anywhere, and fighting crime seemed like a full-time job. How was he going to balance a job with death-defying acts daily? All the while, he could feel the sword's disapproval of his question. Worse than its constant chiding was the lack of anything being spoken directly to his head. When the booming and deep voice of the blade finally echoed in his mind, he winced as he expected further beration, but the blade offered guidance.

My champions are seldom vagabonds. Prove thine merit to the town, and they shall care for you. A true hero will always have a home and rarely a hovel

These words were enough to encourage Dermont to rush after the others. His heavy armor clanked and rattled with each hurried step as he entered the hallway. He entered the miniature convention. The situation was relatively mundane, but to Dermont, it was like being a kid in a candy store. Robots, beastmen, witches, scientists, it was like they had gathered everything from all his favorite shows and comics and mashed them into this room.

Choose wisely, hero, thine faction may mold who you become

The sword gave him a warning that he headed, as he had started making a beeline to the blue-furred man purely out of his being the most interesting figure in the room, but stopped when the words rang in his mind. Taking a further glance over the room, he saw the witch and smiled at her. She was the only other husky fellow in the room. Her attire made him think she would understand his powers. He was magic, too, or at least the things he used were. His sword, however, did not seem to agree with this choice.

Do not be bedeviled by the witch, Dermont! Stay cautious, a sorcerer is a dangerous foe to have!

Dermont rolled his eyes at the sword's discontent. This was not a place where he would be making any sort of foes. Nothung had stressed such concerns about other spell casters when it had accompanied Dermont to LARP events; perhaps it was from a previous trauma?

"Oh come on, she seems nice," Dermont replied to the blade, trying to keep his voice low to not seem insane. This sword only boomed louder in his head, causing him to clutch his head.

That is how they trick you, fool! Worry not, for I shall remain vigilant to her treachery. You do not have the keen mind to do so alone.

Dermont sighed as he recovered from the deafening ring in his head.
"Ok, ok fine. Just... don't embarrass me," He whimpered.

I, Nothung the dragon slayer, slayer of Nalfeshnee, culler of the wicked, do not embarrass my champions...

Dermont tried to ignore the embarrassing proclamations going on in his head as he made his way to the MAGI kiosk, only to see that one of the other heroes was already there. She introduced herself as 'butterfly'. He couldn't help but smile at the name. It was far kinder and brighter than his name. It made her seem approachable, something a hero should be. Unfortunately for him, Butterflies' extensive experience and impressive-sounding references made her seem unapproachable. It quickly reminded him that for all intents and purposes, he was just some nerd in a suit of armor.

Dermont patiently waited slightly to the side of the young ninja lady, letting her get the chance to properly ask questions and talk with the woman at the kiosk. It gave him time to come up with an equally impressive-sounding introduction and to stake out the situation himself. More importantly to him, he would prefer for Butterfly not to be here when he asked his more desperate questions, like: "Do you offer room and board?" or "Is Dungeons and Dragons considered insensitive?".
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Hidden 8 mos ago Post by Ducksworth
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Ducksworth Quack.

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Vector followed in step as Bernard led them down the long carpeted hall. The others’ voices carried in easy rhythm, all of them light, human, and unburdened. The chatter bounced between the walls. The Knight’s armour clinked softly with each stride, and they all kept pace with measured calm. Their excitement filled the air like static, but one of Bernard’s earlier answers lingered in Vector’s mind. No pay. Volunteer work. He hadn’t thought of it until then, of course he hadn’t needed to. He’d never stopped to wonder what it would cost to live whilst being a hero. The thought of money, or the lack of it even, simply didn’t exist in his world. He could afford to risk himself for ideals because comfort, and even luxury, was already a guaranteed.

The question replayed in his memory, that faint hope, a man asking if he’d still be able to eat while saving others. Vector’s jaw tightened. He’d forgotten that some people fought because they had nothing else, that heroism wasn’t a privilege for everyone. It wasn’t guilt. It was logistics, and imbalance needed correction.

He lifted his right hand slightly, thumb brushing upward in a subtle, unnatural motion. The small sensor woven into the glove’s inner seam pulsed once against the web of his hand. Inside his aviators, faint text appeared, projected low across the lens, translucent, and invisible to anyone but him. He signed quickly with his fingers, the coded gestures compact and practiced. Each movement mapped to letters, a silent, efficient language he’d programmed himself to use without obvious movement.



HGS-3 Encrypted Channel: Hale... - connected.

Vector
Establish a discrete support fund.
Grants for low-income registered heroes.
Equipment, housing, stipends, etc

Hale
A charitable venture, sir?

Vector
Maintenance. Efficiency requires stability.
Keep it anonymous.

Hale
Initial allocation?

Vector
Two million. Renewable quarterly.
Talk details later. Out.

A faint confirmation blinked green on the inside of his lens, gone with a blink, the glass returned to black. To anyone watching, he’d merely adjusted his gloves.

He let the silence settle again as they walked. The others spoke freely, driven by enthusiasm and choice, people doing this because they wanted to. He envied that, in a quiet way he’d never admit; they fought for meaning whereas he fought for control.

The hallway opened into the registration chamber, bright and clean under flat white light. Five booths lined the walls, each humming with its own kind of promise. MAGI shimmered with crystals. DATA flickered with precision. SERAPH buzzed under sterile blue light. GIFT radiated warmth and pride. He watched the others drift, drawn by fascination, or maybe belonging. One bowed politely to the witch at MAGI. Another leaned close to inspect DATA’s robot attendant. The Knight hovered awkwardly, earnest and uncertain. They looked alive, and he envied that, too.

His path, by contrast, had always been narrow. He had no magic, no mutation, no real ability beyond harsh and unending training, and then just structure, a framework, built by himself to keep him from becoming what his father had designed him to be. He crossed the parquet floor in silence. When he reached the booth at the far end, the one with plain wood, gray walls, and a faintly humming terminal, he stopped. He sat his attaché neatly beside his leg and straightened.

“Vector,” he said. “I’m signing on for ELITE.”
Hidden 8 mos ago Post by Uiop
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Uiop

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Alain nodded in response to the secret agent tour guide's reply, and followed along with the group. The lad had previously walked through these hallways a number of times for a variety of reasons, and yet, there was still a layer of trepidation. This was, after all, something he'd wanted for a very long time, and he did not want to fuck it up.

As the group walked over, Alain thought back to what his father had reminded him of earlier in the day.
"Now remember kiddo, it's probably gonna be nerve-wracking and you'll feel as though everyone's watching you. Thing is, no-one's gonna be paying that much attention to the minutia. Your peers are gonna focus on the enrollment and half of them'll be just as, if not more, nervous than you are. As for the staff, well, that'll just be a normal day at the office for em."
The Iceberg

Then, the young lad remembered what his father said immediately thereafter.
"...alright, well, back when I was in your shoes people were watching me, but that's because I used to be a notorious mob enforcer before my, career change. Still have your mother and an alien invasion to thank for that. But that's besides the point, you're already doing much better than I did."
The Iceberg

Alain quietly chuckled, recalling the comedic stories he's heard of his parents' courtship as the group arrived. The thoughts of other, more comedic times did aid to calm his nerves. As the fledgling hero collected himself, he decided to take some quick notes of his peers. "...is, Valiant talking to someone else?" he thought, partially overhearing the man, before deciding the armoured man deserved his privacy "Eh, not gonna bother him with that right now. Lined up behind Butterfly, so they're probably both a variety of mage then. ...likely very different ones given that one's a knight and the other's a ninja. Starshine's in line for DATA, so she's likely some kind of tech wizard." Alain continued thinking, almost cringing at the unintended pun. "I don't see Dynamo, but he mentioned interest in SERAPH earlier, and if I've got a good read on him, he'll probably super-speed rush to that booth."
Keeping his worries distracted by thinking of the people around him, and lined up for the ELITE booth behind Vector. "Ah, so that's his hero name! Saves me the trouble of asking; now I got everyone's but the quiet lady from earlier."
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Hidden 7 mos ago Post by Birdboy
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Birdboy Feathered freakshow

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The placet smile on the woman faltered slightly but never diminished. The woman turned her attention to Vector after a brief moment of tapping away at her terminal.

The woman pensively looked to the attached, glancing over it before handing a clip board to the masked man before her.
“I'm so glad you've decided to join the Enhanced Logistics for Insight and Tactical Excellence. Please fill this out for us and we will start your application process” her rehearsed lines were filled with a honeyed sweetness, her smile never fading but it was clear how hollow it was. Not a kind and welcoming smile but polite.

The clipboard had a simple application, the kind you might expect for any sort of job. Asking for a name, an address, phone number, etc. A fancy pen was placed carefully on the clip.

The woman quickly had another keyboard prepared for the young man behind her initial responder, and handing him one as well.
“And what should I call you, sir?” She asked rigidly before turning her attention back to the keyboard.
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