An Outsider

The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)

QuietThinker said
Holy crap, Joe Black is the best kind of asshat.

Yeah, it's fun writing a scumbag.

The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)

QuietThinker said
I'd be happy to have Wire, when he gets recruited in the next few posts, to act undercover. He's already working with some seedy people to pay the bills, which also gives him something of a reputation. I don't mind what I end up doing though; I just like thinking through what he'd do in different situation :)

Oh yeah, Wire would also be a pretty smooth operator in that situation.

The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)

Morningstar

“Great, so what you're telling me its just the garden variety scumbags outside, while the real party people are inside. The locked building. With no way of telling who's in there. Which I'm going into blind. Alone. . . Great.” Morningstar's reply was as dry as dust, sarcasm dripping from every syllable, but she spoke quietly and was infinitely careful as she entered, showing that she was still respectful of the danger inherent in the situation.

The hallway had all the appeal of a run-down crack-den, looking like that'd managed to pull in Sid Vicious to serve as the interior designer. She spent several heartbeats in the dank corridor simply listening, seeing if she could pick out any suspect noises or tell-tale sounds in the half light. Then, with lack of a better option, she would work her way down the corridor slowly and methodically, stopping at each door. She would retrieve a length of what looked like thin, flexible black hose from her utility belt, as it was actually an inspection camera, known more colloquially as a snake scope. She would feed the camera head of the snake scope under the crack of the door frame, with the live feed displaying on her in-mask HUD. If she found anything she would stop and make a plan.

Mr Joe Black

Joe tramped up the VTOL boarding ramp behind Pariah, mumbling about how no one ever thanked him for his help, and how that instead of taking his advice and shooting Salvation they were instead taking him back to League Headquarters. Truthfully none of what he said really formed a sentence, it was more of an outpouring curse words, foul diatribes and racial slurs. As he sat in the jet he removed his whiskey flask and took a long swallow, glaring at anyone who gave him an admonishing look for his casual alcoholism.

The VTOL swiftly covered the distance back to the Hall of Heroes, Joe shoving and pushing the other heroes out of his way to be the first off the plane. He scoffed at the idea of helping Pariah anymore today. No, it was just coming up to that time of day when Sky played all the Simpsons re-runs, and he reckoned he had just enough time to settle his ass into the couch before it all kicked off. On his way out he heard some chick ask were the infirmary was. She was asking the group at large, but Joe stopped and gave her a deep, meaningful look, not the sort of glance you spare someone in a crowd, but the kind of penetrating gaze you would use when you are really, really looking at someone. Slowly he peeled off his raybans, revealing his glazed dead eyes.

"Hospital wing. . ." He infused the words with a great amount of solemnity, managing to flex his skull like face into something resembling concern. "I'm afraid to say you might be a bit late for that Rolling Girl. I've got a sense for the Supernatural, ever since I became mortally challenged, and I hate to tell you, but you got the touch of the Reaper to you. I'd say, professionally speaking, you got the best of eight hours left. I'm sorry." It was utter bullshit of course, but you had to make your own jollies in a place like this, and hazing the new kids never went out of fashion.

The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)

Maybe that's it then.

On an RP related note, who do you think should join Sixgun under cover. I reckon Killshade would be the best choice.

And Quiet Thinker, I literally laughed aloud when I read "Calm your tits."

The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)

Dunno why, but I always thought 21st Century Schizoid Man was sung by Black Sabbath.

The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)

Thanks Swamp Fox, that's very nice of you to say.

The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)

Silver Carrot said
I've just had an idea for a hero that has, like, a super voice.He/she can create a sonic boom that can shatter glass, but can also project her voice and throw it, and do impressions of people.It's a very rough idea at the moment.

That's a very cool idea. Both powerful, yet full of potential for scenes outside of battle. Incidentally Black Canary and Banshee are two of my favourite superheroes.

The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)

Lol reading MrD's and Poly's latest post and what comes on my radio? 21st Century Schizoid Man!

The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)

Hi-Voltage

Volt held himself tall as he scanned the room for any sort of advantage. He could use the extinguisher to attack the villain in his blind spot, just like he had done with Shank, but truthfully he wasn't sure if that would be enough to bring down the villain seeing as he was fresh, and Volt had no idea of his identity or abilities. It was possible that the man was more than capable of making good on his threats, so magnetism was just a risk Volt couldn't take. Still, he couldn't let Blue-eyes cow them into inaction. For better or worse they had to stop him here.

A thoom of thunder roused Volt from his maddening search for some advantage in the room, the storm no doubt caused by Rainmaker outside. He barely paid any heed to Blue-Eye's taunts as his gaze was fixed on the warden's office window, and the brilliant display of crackling lightning that visualised just outside the yard. Black clouds dominated the sky, and he realised with a start that the air outside was thick with electrical energy. A plan began to formulate in his mind, one that he would never try to employ if they weren't in such dire straights. When tha situation is desperate as this, then a desperate plan is tha only one that fits.

Without making overt movements the Scotsman began to bend the electrical energy that was thick in the outside atmosphere to his will, nothing obvious yet, just setting pieces into play. It was as he was doing this that he turned and caught the warden, whimpering softly as Blue-eyes ground the gun barrel into his skull. Volt was suddenly gripped by a wave of regret. Yes, heroes didn't let innocents die, not even to stop the bad guy, but despite the fact that he looked the part, talked the talk, and tried to walk the walk, Volt was no hero. He knew life didn't work out like the comics, the good guys didn't always win, and that victory's always came with a price. The Lightning-Slinger swallowed back his bitterness, knowing the outcome of the next few moments were probably going to end up featuring in his nightmares for the rest of his life.

"Ah'm sorry. . . But ah ain't yer typical hero." He whispered. Today, the warden would probably be todays price. Then, before anyone could react, Volt's body was suffused by a flickering blue light, and the Lightning-Slinger did that which he was named for.

He slung lightning.

Glass from the warden's office window shattered into a million jagged pieces and flew into the room in a flesh shredding torrent as a spear of lightning arced down from the grim clouds and screamed into the room, guided by Volt's hand. The strain to commit such a volatile act was too much for Volt's wearied frame, and he was already falling unconscious as the room burst into chaos. His last thoughts as he lost consciousness was that he hoped it was enough to give his team a chance to defeat Blue-eyes.

Morningstar

The neighbourhood where the Den was situated suited Morningstar down to the ground. Lucy had grown up in a place like this. maybe not quite as filthy, but similar enough for her to feel a twinge of nostalgia. No time for that now though, there was work to be done. Binary called for recon, and recon was what Morningstar did. First she scoped the place out. Exits, entrances, fire escapes, number of windows, that sort of thing. She was careful, taking her time. No point rushing it at the first hurdle and ruining the whole operation. Then, after she had got a feel for the place, she began to place sticky cams all around the Den, taking note to situate them in places that would be able to observe the doors, streets and any other locations of interest. These would provide her, Binary and the rest of the League with a way of remotely scouting the place, useful for surveillance.

By the time she had finished this almost an hour had passed. Thankfully no one had noticed her, but that was more due to her skill in not be detected than luck. There were a few deadbeats hanging around street level, most of them looking like junkies, but Morningstar scanned their faces regardless. She sent the images to the League database, figuring if any of them had a rap sheet then they would show up. Pariah was meticulous with his records, and with Binary was backing him up then it was very difficult to hide your face from them.

Finally, precautions completed, she felt secure enough to enter the Den itself. Her earlier investigations had revealed that the buildings top access doors were cracked open. Pariah's former apprentice approached the doors silently, part of her whispering that this was all too easy. Fortune favours the bold she told herself.

But she'd also heard enough stories to know the bold die young.

The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)

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