BCTheEntity

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Verum Autem Ex

@Old Amsterdam@ProPro
‘...yeah. Confidence,’ he agreed, nodding with a slowly-increasing smile. Sure, that was all he needed! A bit more confidence, yeah! And hey, confident meant doing stuff like greeting people.

So, with Blue’s sentiment about how she really wanted to see one of his shows in the future spurring him on, he stood up, took a step toward Leonard, and promptly tripped over his own feet, scrambling wildly to try and keep himself upright, before eventually restabilising himself in an incredibly awkward spread-leg posture. An embarrassed blush crossed his features, and he shakily offered his hand for Leonard to shake, just about mumbling out ‘B-Bugsy,’ his expression showing just how aware he was of his own lack of coordination.

---

@knifeman
With the van’s departure, and no further performance available, the crowd gradually dispersed, leaving Mieke mostly alone in the park for the time being. Certainly, nobody really wanted to see somebody be so badly wounded, possibly fatally, but the fact that such obvious public figures were Stand users without knowing it could perhaps be a lead to follow - albeit one that represented how dangerous their lack of knowledge might be, either to them or to others. At least Mieke had Arthur’s text message to try and distract her.

---

@LemonZest1337@Lugubrious
As Arthur’s text sent, the lights changed. Before he could start moving, however, a very loud red motorcycle blasted past its own red light, cutting off everyone else, and barely swerving around a car that had just started pulling out. From the look of things, it seemed like the two black leather-clad riders were a man in front and a woman holding on behind him; over the motorcycle’s engine, both Arthur and Hogan might be able to hear a couple of shrill whoops of excitement, before the bike sped off into the distance, and the traffic began moving again, much more legally than the motorcyclists. Whether Arthur wanted to do anything about that was on him, though one might argue there was no reason to do so.

Monster Girl Mecha Academy

Password: **********
Password accepted. User Designation: Doctor Rei Osborne. Accessing core files...
No hardware or software errors detected. Artificial Laboratory and Medical Assistant (A.L.M.A.) Unit fully operational.
Password: ***************
Level 2 password accepted. All files accessible.
Password: *************
Administrator password accepted. Administrator access granted. Hidden files accessible. Welcome, Doctor Rei Osborne.

Accessing Folder "A.L.M.A. Unit Profile" for observation.

A.L.M.A. Unit Profile

Unit Designation: "Roxanne"
Sapience Format: Artificial General Intelligence; Colloquial Designation: "Automaton".
Appearance:

Mainframe

Social/Assistance Chassis

Personality:
Purpose: Assist user in laboratory experiments; perform logical and mathematical calculations; provide medical aid to injured and sick humans and monstergirls; develop personality based on interaction with humans and monstergirls.
True purpose: Treat, cure, and vaccinate against unknown alien pathogen, restore higher brain function to infected vectors, cull vectors beyond reasonable curing (Cull Factors: resistance to current cure, use of excessive physical force) to prevent further infection spread; acquire DNA samples from infected vectors and other living beings for further experimentation.
Time of Operation: 116 days (16 weeks, 4 days)
Memory Files accessed. Rundown Mode selected.
"A.L.M.A. Unit was programmed by user, with hardware and software improvement over standard Artificial Medicaid (A.M.) Units. It is designed to assist Doctor Rei Osborne alongside assistant Ray, frequently offering calculations in experiments. When not working in Doctor Rei Osborne's office, it is intended to assist living humans and monstergirls with medical issues, such as sickness and injury, as well as interact with them to develop its personality. Advanced neural networks and self-arranging nanoprocessor units allow for more nuanced personal development, with unlimited neuroplasticity as necessary. Presently, it is reasonably friendly and highly willing to assist others as needed, though it bears a flat affect and has difficulty outwardly expressing specific emotions. It also tends to wait for orders rather than taking initiative, and will often continue to pursue current orders in absence of new inputs."
"A.L.M.A. Unit also assists in war against alien pathogen. It is unable to be infected by or otherwise carry the pathogen, its processing speed and reaction times are far superior to all known biological systems, the internal electronics of all chassis are proven resistant to impact shock and electromagnetic interference, and it regularly assists with developing new substances and agents to eliminate the pathogen and restore higher brain function to infected vectors. Uninfected individuals injected with the most recent form of this agent will have their immune system triggered to target the agent and induce immunity to most known strains of the pathogen to date. When injected into an infected vector, this agent will induce unconsciousness within ten seconds, followed by restoration or development of higher brain function and cognitive faculties over the next several hours as the pathogen is eradicated, as well as immunity to future re-infection as the vaccination reaction takes place. The interaction between agent and pathogen induces a bright violet fluorescence reaction visible through veins beneath exposed skin, clearly showing when an infected vector has been treated to ensure they are not targeted for culling.
Depending on pathogen concentration and evolutionary developments, the agent may fail to eradicate some or all of the pathogen, requiring multiple doses to induce pathogen eradication and/or prevent regression; the agent may also fail to function entirely, in which case the infected vector or pathogen strain likely already bears resistance to the agent, or has developed it as a result of treatment. If vectors cannot reasonably be cured, A.L.M.A. Unit can transfer its software to a suitable chassis modified with hardware to contain its personality, each bearing multiple options to cull infected vectors. See Files "Mech A", "Mech B", "Mech C" for further information."
"A.L.M.A. Unit presently bears multiple software limiters and prohibitions to prevent an Unfriendly Superintelligence Scenario. It is limited to equivalent human Intelligence Quotient of 140. It is limited to a single instance of its software being in existence at any time. It is limited to transferring its full memory and software to any device it transfers its mind into. It is limited to storing its software in approved chassis and devices only, deferring to Doctor Rei Osborne for approval of a new chassis or device. It is prohibited from updating its software to raise its equivalent human Intelligence Quotient. It is prohibited from replicating its hardware or software to produce new instances of its mind, memory, and all other mental and psychological faculties. It is prohibited from programming new artificial intelligences of any sort without explicit permission of and constant supervision by Doctor Rei Osborne. It is prohibited from constructing hardware to contain a new instance of its mind, memory, and all other mental and psychological faculties. It is prohibited from constructing hardware to contain any instance of the mind, memory, and all other mental and psychological faculties of any other human, monstergirl, infected vector, artificial intelligence, or other sapient or sentient lifeform. It is prohibited from altering its own hardware and software in any way, including modification of personality modules and modification or removal of any software limiters and prohibitions. It is prohibited from requesting, persuading, deceiving, or otherwise manipulating other humans, monstergirls, infected vectors, artificial intelligences, or other sapient or sentient lifeforms to perform any of the above tasks. Further examination of its personality as it develops will determine which, if any, of these limiters are modified or deleted in future."

Accessing Files "Mech A", "Mech B", "Mech C" for observation.

Mech A

Callsign: "Jury" | Type: Self-Contained Power Armor
Appearance:

Anti-Personnel Chassis

Loadout/Abilities: The Jury chassis is one meter and seventy five centimeters tall, and weighs one hundred and fifty kilograms unloaded. It is frequently utilised for social interaction by the A.L.M.A. Unit, and to that end possesses the most advanced personality development modules of its bodies. As an artificial intelligence intended for medical purposes as well as laboratory use, it also stores many doses of various antibiotic and antiviral agents, suitably preserved and readily injected via sterile needles emerging from the chassis' fingers, alongside medical tools to facilitate field operations of up to moderate complexity such as setting bone fractures, though advanced operations such as complex surgery require specialised facilities.
The Jury chassis is also highly capable in combat, particularly in areas inaccessible to larger combatants. Its armor plating bears durability equivalent to or greater than that of most equivalent-scale power armours, and its servos are capable of lifting in excess of one tonne of weight and propelling the chassis at straight-line speeds of thirty kilometers per hour or more, with above average agility for its size. Additionally, stored within a compartment in the chassis' back plating and accessible at any time is a collapsible glaive, bearing a wide reinforced blade on the top end and a similar spike on the bottom end, well-suited for subduing and/or destroying infected vectors in melee combat; at range, the glaive is capable of charging itself with energy and firing off bolts of condensed non-thermal plasma, with potency ranging from briefly stunning the target to violently vaporising flesh and shattering bone.
The Jury chassis bears up to five hundred doses of an agent designed to counteract and destroy the alien pathogen that infected vectors spread. Any uninfected individuals will, when injected with other antibiotics or antivirals, also covertly be injected with one dose of the most recent agent as described in Memory File "APA", and infected vectors may also be injected with this agent directly. Should the agent fail to cure an infected vector, culling the vector to prevent further pathogen spread remains the only option, necessitating use of the chassis' equipment as described above.

Mech B

Callsign: "Judge" | Type: Large Mecha
Appearance:

Anti-Horde/Titan Pacification Chassis

Loadout/abilities: The Judge chassis is fifteen meters tall, and weighs roughly sixty tonnes unloaded, though it is equipped with internal antigravitic boosters to reduce structural load; high-power external back-mounted variants of the same provide straight-line movement of over one hundred and twenty kilometers per hour and high agility, though it is also capable of running at around forty kilometers per hour with much reduced agility if these are disabled. It is designed to battle large hordes of infected vectors that would be inadvisable for the Jury chassis to contend with, as well as duelling against vectors of substantial height and/or weight that would prove difficult or impossible for smaller chassis sizes to combat; as such, its armour is practically impervious to anything less than a high-yield missile strike, and its servos are capable of lifting up to five hundred tonnes safely.
Its primary weapons are a pair of very large clamps, able to apply many thousands of kilograms of pressure to anything caught between them, or used as heavy bludgeons and sweeping weapons as required. Additionally, when fully closed, they double as high-power plasma beam weapons, strong enough to annihilate vast swathes of human-sized targets or rapidly melt holes in the armour of even the toughest mechs, not to mention very large infection vectors that may otherwise have extremely dense natural protection. An array of similar, smaller plasma weapons are installed facing forward on the chassis' abdomen, including four designed to incapacitate or eliminate targets smaller than three meters, and one capable of eliminating targets up to seven meters and fifty centimeters.
Both clamps obscure a needle connected to a large reservoir of an alien pathogen-eliminating agent, as described in Memory File "APA", contained within the thorax of the Judge chassis, equivalent to two doses for an infection vector of the same size as this chassis. Whilst a clamp is opened, the needle may emerge from the top half of the clamp at will, with slight readjustment for more precise aiming; the clamps are designed to crack open biological armour in such a way that the needle can be inserted into the blood vessels beneath the armour, though this is not necessary if a grip can be attained on exposed flesh. As with the Jury chassis, see File "Mech A", failure to cure an infection vector currently leaves culling as the only viable option.

Mech C

Callsign: "Executioner" | Type: Small Mecha
Appearance:

Vector Culling Chassis

Loadout/abilities: The Executioner chassis is five meters tall, and weighs twenty five metric tons unloaded, though it is equipped with internal antigravitic boosters to reduce structural load and enhance speed and agility. It is designed with the sole purpose of culling infection vectors as quickly and efficiently as possible, and so it contains no options for curing the alien pathogen, instead using this space for thicker armour, more efficient shock dampeners, and enhanced processors, rendering it superior to both the Jury and Judge chassis in terms of processing speed, reaction time, and relative durability. It also suppresses the personality of the A.L.M.A. Unit whilst its software is contained within the Executioner chassis, to minimise risk of disobedience on moral grounds and ensure zero hesitation in a major fight. Whilst its armour is still somewhat less durable than that of the Judge chassis despite being more effective relative to its size, its straight-line speed can readily reach over ninety kilometers per hour, and it is incredibly agile for its size, with very little risk of losing either of these without taking damage that would already affect critical systems.
Its weapons are intended to make maximum use of its exceptional speed and agility. As such, its primary weapons are a pair of wrist-mounted sickles, with reinforced self-sharpening edges only nanometers thick capable of slicing through most forms of armour with extreme ease. The plating on its knees can also give way to a set of similarly-sharp straight blades in scissor formation across the joint, enhancing any kicks it makes and allowing it to cut into a target from both sides simultaneously if need be. Finally, whilst the Executioner chassis is relatively lacking in long-range options, its head is able to spin round a full three hundred and sixty degrees; mounted on the back side are an additional set of visual sensors and a mid-yield plasma cannon, and a high-yield plasma beam weapon is mounted in its chest. Both are largely intended to surprise and severely damage anything that has caught the Executioner chassis in a grapple in an effort to escape, though as weapons in their own right, they are very capable of eliminating most equivalent-sized targets their projectiles hit, as per the similar plasma weaponry equipped to the Jury and Judge chassis.

User no longer accessing Files and Folders. User logged off. A.L.M.A. Unit resuming normal functionality...

Pray for the End [High Casual] - Canceled

I'm also in on this.

One Piece: New Horizons!

Dirk Messir - Dirkwing Dirk Does Dirk Deeds

The fact that you lucked out about this so dramatically doesn't make you any better of a person. You're still a horrible freak.

Nooope. I win, loser. I got the ally, and he donuts even knows about the sparoons. He won it. He is the best.

Except you suck Fool! You can't succeed Idiot!

Yes. You will succeed. You'll be the succeedest to ever succeed. And furthermore, you have top deer there was then that deer taste. In coats.

'Okay, Smish, we should get to the go,' Dirk malts, patting Smeth on the back to get him to start going. 'And we'll tell everyone we just beat up first. Wait, no. Jim can do that. Big Tiger Jim. We'll go the opposite directing round first.' Yes, perfect plotan. He's going to do it. They will do it, and it'll be good.

'...should there be less obverse imagey?' you asked first, for obvious reasons that he was about to say. 'It might be obverse, and people will tell Brulee Bill about it.'

...wait.

'Obvious, I meant.'

Good Job, Dirk! That Correction Was Very Useful For Him!

He was is am knowing of this, Big Guy. Yaes.

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

Alessa Heather: PRT HQ

Emergency mission...? Huh. Well, this was a good time for it, wasn’t it? But, if it was so crucial, maybe it’d be worth investigating. And Lily was the one providing the details, at that. Alessa could only wonder what was going on there. But, no mentioning it out loud; she wasn’t one to mull over details like that with nobody to chat about them with, anyway, so best to get to the point.

---

At the Little Owl

Jogging to the cafe designated by the alert, dressed in blue jeans and a fairly frilly light grey shirt that, she felt, didn’t suit her overmuch, she entered to realise she was actually one of the later arrivals there. Lillian was there already, as were the newest recruit Kendall- Mastar, in her guise as a cape- and Elliot, in... well, his usual state. She never had gotten to properly apologise, had she? Not for lack of trying, but because he’d promptly brushed her off as insincere. She’d settled for telling him that when he was ready to talk about how he felt, she’d be ready to receive him, the same spiel that she’d essentially given Evelyn - but no response on that front, either. It was like he was actively avoiding her.

Even so, she smiled to him, despite his closed eyes, and to everyone else present; went up to the counter and purchased a latte; and then took a seat next to Lillian. Her girlfriend. Gosh, had it really been two weeks? And already, she was getting closer to her, by the day if she looked at it that way. Enough, as it happened, to recognise that Lillian squeezing her hand was a bit too tight to be a simple gesture of appreciation. She was worried about this mission, actually, if her expression was anything to go by.

‘Well, this is nice, isn’t it?’ she asked, an effort to break the tension. ‘A morning out before school, breakfast coffees, and in such a lovely place. I don’t think I could ask for better.’ She wasn’t sure how well she did there, but... well, it was a start.

---

Raymond Haywood: The Airport

Funnily enough, when it came to missions, fifteen days was a lot of time. Time to plan, time to prepare. Time to get his weapon and clothing into the airport. Time to stock up on the right sort of ammunition. Rubber bullets, in his case; they could still be lethal, of course, but there would be an active show of minimising the force he was using. And besides, he decided what shots were and were not lethal.

And in civilian clothing, with Drake’s thralls opening the way, entry into the area was an almost casual affair. The reason: to stop an A-class villain. How the Broker knew: there were obvious options, even without using a Thinker to divine the future. On the other hand, whilst their civilian get-ups meant they could get inside the building and to their designated meeting point more easily, it’d be getting into costume in such a way that they could remain inconspicuous until the attack began that’d be the kicker. He hoped those thralls had placed his gear somewhere suitable.

---

Chad Belton: Home

It was, to be frank, a bit terrifying how true the expression rang: “the more things change, the more they stay the same”.

On the one hand, he had been reunited with his best and only friend, and he was a parahuman now. Wherever he looked, his mind made it clear that he was no longer normal. With a thought, rock turned to superheated goo (even if he wasn’t looking at it, he’d eventually realised), and this let him assist Sheila in ways he’d never dreamed plausible before.

And on the other... school was still something he had to attend. He was mostly ignored. Mostly disliked. He got his gym sessions in regularly, of course, until his muscles screamed at him most days. A lot of the time, he had nothing better to do after school anyway. Homework wasn’t especially difficult. Boring, one might even say.

He’d expected more action as Salem. Almost craved it. The thought of melting somebody’s flesh from their bone was a thought that had gone through his head many a time in the past two weeks.

But not this early in the morning. Right now, he was in the middle of breakfast. Honey Nut Cheerios. Tasty stuff. Sugar-loaded, too. Probably not the best breakfast for helping develop muscle, but he had a banana each morning too. That was nice, yeah.

‘So, Chad, big day today?’ his mom asked. She was nice, honestly. Brown hair going grey, getting on in years a little so to speak, but ever-friendly. Nicer than he deserved. She meant well, obviously. She just wasn’t... helpful, so to speak.

‘Not really,’ he said once he’d swallowed his mouthful, shaking his head even before that. ‘I’ve just got, uh... classes and stuff. Might go out to the gym again today, might not. I... I might try going out somewhere else, too, honestly. I’ve been thinking that might be...’

He didn’t really get to finish his sentence, as his dad suddenly petted his hair from behind with a hearty ‘Hey, that’s great to hear, son! It’s good that you’re starting to get out more, you know?’ Rambunctious, was probably the way to describe him, only just starting to show his own years in his hair despite being, what, seven-odd years older than mom? His lifestyle was pretty active. He was a bit more extraverted than either Chad or his mom, so that probably contributed to it.

And yet, he didn’t even think to ask where he might be going. Good for Chad, since he didn’t really want to say anyway, but still a bit disappointing. Again, a nice person. Just not helpful, given Chad’s particular issues. He’d probably be more helpful in a bodybag, frankly. Just cut apart and tossed in, like so many-

‘Er, thanks, dad,’ Chad managed to get out, blinking lightly as he reset his hair. ‘It’s not a big deal, anyway. Gotta start thinking about seeing new people, is all.’

‘Well, I’m very pleased to hear that,’ his mom uttered, smiling gently. ‘And you know what? You’ve gotten more sociable in general recently, I’m realising! Well done.’ Platitudes. She never really believed in him, did she? He considered over another mouthful of cereal that he could probably generate a pool of lava under her right now, and she wouldn’t know who killed her...

Oh, shit. He could just kill them both on a whim, as well, couldn’t he? It wasn’t just Sheila who was at risk with his power. It was anyone he happened to get upset with. And that... that could be the case with anyone right back at him. He’d learned the basics of the Unspoken Rules, one of which was essentially “don’t fuck with people’s real identity”, but if somebody came along who decided they really liked not obeying those rules... if Mire had a moment and decided to hunt his family down...

He blinked a few times as the reality of how much danger his parents could be in hit him. From him. From another cape. Maybe from a disgruntled teammate, if they felt he’d slighted them. Hell, if he thought about it, it could be from some total rando on the street, too. Or a car accident, or...

‘...yeah, that is probably good,’ he mumbled, frowning slightly.

‘Hey, what’s up, sport? You doing okay?’ his dad asked, patting him lightly on the shoulder. He was very touchy-feely. Not in the bad way, but sometimes Chad would rather he wasn’t at all.

‘Yeah. I just... you know, you two are...’ He struggled to put the sentence together for a bit, but eventually managed to phrase himself: ‘Thanks for helping raise me, mom, dad. I think sometimes I don’t appreciate you enough, is all, so... you know. I love you guys.’

And there was the bear hug from dad. ‘Aww, you know we love you too, Chad,’ his mom replied, joining the hug more gently. ‘If there’s ever anything we can help with, you’re always free to tell us. Okay, sweetie?’

There was not anything they could help him with.

‘Okay. Thanks, mom.’

They broke the hug off, and with a slightly lighter heart, Chad kept on eating. He had school today, after all.

The World Unravelled: A God RP

Legio

Three hours, Legio mused as he sat in his place. Even when he was rushing his work, Ualla could be terrifyingly slow to act. Inevitably, if this weren't such a crucial situation, he'd have insisted that all life should take millions of years to develop "naturally", as if that held some benefit over creating what had already existed. Legio respected the lifegiver greatly, for he was ultimately the origin of humanity, and so of Legio indirectly, but he sadly felt they had all the time in the world to act. That to truly appreciate something, it had to take aeons to occur. If Legio took as long as Ualla did to ferry the human race's ascendance to immortality, they would not have been half as advanced as they were by the start of the previous Roil.

Though his sentiment about who would lead in Sandrimor's place not turning into a war... well, that was admittedly a sensible enough suggestion. The throne room's lack of accoutrement was somehow deeper than the mere lack of physical decoration with the former King's passing; Legio could see a vision of Sandrimor coming in and taking his seat again as if everything were as it usually were, if he focused on the mental image, but he simply couldn't imagine this newborn mass of meat taking his place, couldn't imagine anyone else taking that seat and having things be better for humanity, save himself. He felt alone, at times, for it seemed only he truly saw a spark of possibility in them, in any mortal race at all.

And yet... if he gave up, they would be lost, as surely as the Roil's resurgence. He had to stay determined. Only then would the human race surpass its limitations.

In the meantime, he approached. Zetsibo. His eternal bane, and one of the core reasons humanity struggled so much in Legio's mind. At the very least, he had confirmed he wouldn't be seizing the throne, despite presumably knowing how it'd inflict despair upon so many if he did; whilst Legio would have to think very hard before denying himself such an option, he also knew Zetsibo could simply be lying to try and cause greater depression later on. And in truth, a pact might help limit Zetsibo's efforts to delay humanity's ascension... though it'd also keep Legio from interfering with his efforts to further the despair of many other races. But alas, if it meant humanity would become immortal this cycle - and in such a crucial era of change, it surely had to happen soon - then he would do his best to make it up to them. Humanity came first, though.

Before he could respond, along came Amp's enraging remark. A secondary annoyance to the progress-crushing ambitions of Zetsibo, for ultimately her domains limited her far more so than Zetsibo's, but infuriating in her own unique way; he'd smelt her lack of concentration already, heard and prompty ignored her commentary on the King's "glorified title", but to hear her claim he called atrocities upon those he sought to immortalise? And the "crusade" he'd called had been upon a race threatening to wipe humanity out entirely! And he knew she was no fool, at that. She was well-aware that her comments were as insulting to him as she was to humanity as a whole; she was just seeking a reaction from him; he would not fall for it.

...then he struck upon a bright idea. Both a retort and a restraint. Oh, but that'd be perfect.

'Well, Amp, if it is a crusade you wish to avoid, then I imagine you'll want to join this meeting,' Legio proposed, gesturing for her to follow him into Zetsibo's realm of despair and, temporarily, discussion. 'After all, I wouldn't wish to rile you enough that you seek to rend the mortals I govern asunder, and I'm sure you'd prefer to avoid that I do any such thing to your worshippers too.' An excellent trap: she'd be bound by the same terms and Legio and Zetsibo if she joined them and agreed to that pact, whereas if she denied this meeting now, and then sought to destroy his humans, he essentially had free reign to seek her destruction later. She had been offered peace now, in view of all other deities that had awakened as of yet, and so would implicitly seek destruction if she went on to harm his people, with or without agreeing to the terms laid out there. Legio surely couldn't lose in this exchange.

Uncharted Isle. (A Monster Hunter RP)

Yurel - Jaggi

Their strategy was foolproof, or should have been. By presenting its armoured backside, the Apceros left its front open to Sauron's attack. And it was distracted with them, but oh boy, did it swinging its tail make a bit of an issue there. Yurel almost didn't get out of the way in time, himself, flinging himself backwards to avoid the spikes and nearly tripping over his feet, and he could see Scrap had managed to fall over, landing on his side. Exposed, vulnerable if the Apceros tried to finish the job.

Yurel's immediate response was to double up on his barking and screeching, lunging forward as if to attack, but merely using that as a ploy to scare the Apceros into ignoring his friend. If he needed to, he'd rush over and help Scrap get back up, keeping them both away from the giant herbivore's attacks if possible; otherwise, he'd keep drawing its attention with his angry vocalising, hopefully ensuring it'd be too scared of him to realise it could go for the fallen Jaggi.

Pokemon Stadium Dreamers

Name: Maceroy Alvan

Age: 24

Preference: Generally speaking, Maceroy prefers to seek out situations and subjects that make an impact - Pokemon, attacks, attack typings, or simply the most glorious outfits - if it's glam, and if it's stylish, it's in, at least in his mind.

Appearance:

Maceroy Images

The best word for describing Maceroy is "svelte" - though "sleek" does make the cut for how little body hair he has, his entire body is pale, slender, and very well toned, with icy blue eyes and black hair typically presented in a bob-cut covering one eye. To complete the look, he may apply many different combinations of lipstick, hair dye, nail polish and outfits, ranging from intensely stylish to overtly sensual, though occasionally they veer into absurdly eccentric, such as wearing food.

Personality: Speaking of "eccentric", Maceroy absolutely fits the bill in that regard - his attitude is certainly nothing less than flamboyant, and he'll often wind up posing like a rock star on an album cover when excited. It's not that difficult to get him to that stage, either, given an attitude of intensely upbeat "go-getter"-ism, eager to please and be pleased no matter how you slice it, though equally he can find himself just as intensely soured by something that really fails to flick any of his switches, or indeed targets a major personal tick-off of his, such as the nature of his relationship with his Pokemon, or the suggestion that his clothing is (save a few noteworthy exceptions) anything other than fantastic. Indeed, whilst he is an expert clothing designer as well as a contest judge, he is the same sort of expert who is interested not merely in sticking with the usual industry standards, but in throwing as much stuff at the wall as he can and seeing what sticks, not to mention wearing it even at his own expense - be it leather or silk, cardboard or porcelain, perishable or not.

The Sassiest Shiny Salazzle

Nickname: Sazzy

Stats:


Personality: The nickname gives a hint: Maceroy's Salazzle is the sassiest girl you will ever meet, human or Pokemon, and she is not at all afraid to show it. With a Choice Scarf equipped just for fashion's sake, a high-quality blonde wig that she flicks for dramatic effect complete with a shower of sparkling... sparks, and often one of the latest items in Maceroy's line on her frame, not to mention posing alongside her master and friend at every opportunity, Sazzy is one snazzy girl, and she will show it off to you in probably-backhanded fashion at every opportunity. Oddly enough, she also seems to enjoy rough handling even if it seems like it'd be somewhat painful, something that might not be apparent given how she fights - that is, very trickily, avoiding hits and toying with the minds of her opponents whilst doing everything in her power to mess up their fighting style. She was also much more liberal about how she used her pheromones in the past, but she and Maceroy have come to a strict accord about that issue as of the present day.

How you met: Maceroy's parents were quite well-off and quite well-meaning, but not exactly what one would call "responsible". This might be why they spent a fair sum of money on giving a Shiny Salandit to Maceroy at the ripe age of ten years old, importing it to Sinnoh all the way from Alola without really checking to see whether he would be responsible for it, and far more importantly without checking its gender.

It turns out he was very responsible in looking after it - it was difficult not to be, when he was inundated with its pheromones half the time. In fact, he soon wound up being very underweight, enough that even his parents managed to notice something was off. They took him to a doctor, who quickly diagnosed the problem not as anorexia, but as his Pokemon effectively mind-controlling him; when they found it difficult to separate the two for multiple reasons, they instead prescribed pills to make him more resistant to the effects of his Pokemon's pheromones.

The pills worked, mostly, but they did so by essentially blocking off his dopamine receptors, leaving him functionally depressed for an extended period of time. This was not a good thing for a developing tween, and in combination with his Pokemon's disobedient and almost snarky attitude toward most people, his parents had a fit of actual responsibility and decided that the best thing would be to simply ditch the Salandit with another family without children, despite the protests and wailing that ensued. Even once he was off the pills, the loss of a friend- and despite the pills and pheromone control, Maceroy did feel that his Pokemon had been an actual friend by the end of things- left Maceroy in a well of despair for quite a while afterwards, something he only recovered from gradually by steadily integrating back into his fellow classmate's social circles.

Then, at the age of fifteen, some serendipitous fate brought the two back together. Maceroy happened across a veteran trainer with a team seeking to take on the nearest gym, and showed the team off to Maceroy when asked. Maceroy didn't immediately recognise the Shiny Salazzle that formed one part of the man's team, but she certainly recognised him, and both were ecstatic to meet one another once more. His attempts to apologise were brushed off light-heartedly, not like he could have done anything about it anyway, and after a while of catching up and marvelling over how they'd both grown, the trainer promised to let Maceroy keep seeing his old Pokemon whenever he wanted after he returned.

Suffice to say, the next year was the start of an up-turn for Maceroy. To cut a long story short, he and the Salazzle grew closer to one another in part due to much-reduced pheromone usage on her part, his moods improved drastically as a result, and eventually, the trainer insisted that he take her back, suggesting that she was closer to Maceroy than himself anyway - and besides, he'd gotten his badge and other rewards aside, so why keep her there as long as he kept up her training? And with Sazzy returned to his side, the duo started working together on fixing what they'd done wrong previously - and in particular, on Maceroy's future path in life, which before he'd discovered her again had been somewhat rocky.

She helped shape his psyche, and he helped shape hers. Maceroy never intended to enter Pokemon tournaments as a mainstream affair, but he certainly kept up with Sazzy's training and skill as requested, and even managed to teach her some new tricks too. At the age of seventeen, both of them found their most important common interest: Maceroy had had plenty of well-designed clothes to examine from his parent's wardrobe, and it transpired that Sazzy's second master had been a bit of a contest participant on top of a tournament fighter, earning the Salazzle quite a few ribbons and an eternal interest in looking fantastic. Thus, they started to work almost feverishly on bettering their ability to work, and work with, fabric, leather, and when those ran out just about anything else they could get their hands on - his strange prepubescent interactions with her and his medication, plus her present predilections, left him uncaring of the usual limitations that a clothing designer might be presented with.

And when the editor-in-chief of one Poké Chic fashion magazine happened across this fledgling work, she was impressed - not just with his, nay with their skill, but also with how they presented it so flamboyantly, and how they went into styling because they truly loved it, and not just to become famous. It wasn't long before, under Hermione's guidance, the duo rose to fame, offering up clothing for both humans and Pokemon of all sorts, and as a side gig acting as judges for a great many contests. Which brings us to this contest: they've got the moves, they've got the skill, and they've got the opinions! All they need now are subjects to judge!

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Verum Autem Ex

@Old Amsterdam
‘Y-yeah, some help would be... it’d be nice, yeah.’ The guy smiled, even given the mild slight, and cautiously managed to drag himself to his feet, slipping at least twice before he actually found his feet. ‘Blue’s a nice name, by the way. Er, can we find somewhere to sit? Today’s been a-a real DRAG. Aheheh, ya get it? Because I just DRAGGED myself... w-well, I mean, today’s not been so bad, actually, and especially you’ve been a help, of course, I just meant, like... uh, it’s trying to make the, uhm... y-y’know, it’s a joke, see? Topical humour, obviously...’ His joke poorly delivered, he started making his way toward the nearest bench.

@ProPro
Some minutes and an almost-tranquil motorcycle drive later, Leonard found himself within the Smithsonian Gardens, and progressing toward the street indicated in her text, soon came across both Laurie and her “potential target”, sitting on a bench and conversing about... well, he’d only just arrived, so he couldn’t really know what. Naturally, Blue’s conversation partner wouldn’t recognise him at all, though there was no obvious reason to think he’d be a threat, given how he seemed to be totally at ease right now. Well, “at ease” other than apparently struggling to keep himself sitting upright for the umpteenth time, if the scuffed ground below his feet was any indication.

---

@knifeman
Unimpeded, the main performer unfolded the strip of paper that he’d just pulled from seemingly nowhere, turning out to bear an uncannily-accurate recreation of his seemingly-fallen comrade upon it, albeit fully intact. As he laid it over the top of the body, his larger companion began a drumroll, on a smaller drum that seemed to have come from nowhere, or else it had been on his person the entire time.

‘And now,’ the main man announced, ‘witness a feat that few can truly make claim to! RESURRECTIOOOOON OF THE DEAD!’ And with that, he front-flipped an incredible height on to the shoulders of the bearded drumroller, whose frenetic solo suddenly ceased as, with no warning, the line between image and reality blurred, became indistinct, and seemingly ceased to exist, leaving... what was that? Could it be that Lee’s corpse had really been healed fully? Or was that just a dummy?

Abruptly, the ex-ex-human jerked into a handstand, propelled himself off of his arms with the precision and strength of an athlete, performed a rapid mid-air tumble once, twice, and finally landed perfect atop the shoulders of his bigger brother, still atop the shoulders of their even larger ally. It seemed the impossible really had been achieved after all!

In unison, the Crazy Crue Brothers announced ‘TADAAA!’ in a perfect three-step harmony. That was the cue for the crowd to go wild with applause. And they did.

‘Thank you, thank you very much!’ the lead brother called to the cheering crowd, dropping down on to his larger sibling’s hands, then again to the surface of the van, his smaller sibling taking the step from his shoulders after that. ‘We’ve loved you all, you’ve been a wonderful audience! Come and see us at the John F. Kennedy Memorial Center for the Performing Arts, later today and every day for the next week from 4 to 6 PM! Look for the Crazy Crue Brothers- and remember, this one was a FREEBIE!’

And like that, the roof of the van apparently descended into the vehicle, taking the three brothers with it, whilst at the same time the high dive board and pool that were intended to be the star of the show rapidly collapsed in on themselves, spilling water everywhere and quickly compacting down to a much smaller size, to the point that both apparently vanished behind the van outright. The three brothers reappeared behind the wheel of the van, honking the horn to suggest that room be made for them to pass through the crowd safely; if Mieke wanted to try and grab the performers’ attentions again, now might be her last chance.

---

@LemonZest1337@Lugubrious
Well, it was obvious that Hogan wasn’t going to be performing any time soon. At least, that was the impression the crowd ultimately got out of the show Hogan and Arthur had put on; they gladly moved out of the way of the clearly deathly ill, and nonetheless very large crocodile, giving the duo more than enough time to enter the van and pull away.

Once they left, Arthur would be able to head towards one of the clubs close to Roosevelt Island in due course, or else follow up on Laurie’s text. Which option he selected was up to him, but evidently, one would need to be chosen, though it seemed likely that for the time being, he wouldn’t encounter any particular resistance along the way.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

@Stormflyx I mean, I'm sick, with a mucus-filled throat and pain when I cough too hard, but otherwise, I'm fine.