Foxxie

Superheroics 101

For the most part, the sirens hadn't lit a fire under Cody's ass. In fact, he was damn frustrated by them, and begrudgingly threw on his bomber jacket over his new uniform. Though he was moving slower than molasses he was confident that the emergency would still be there when he arrived. He took a few moments to appreciate the shine on his new boots, which would surely soon be dragged through mud, or alien entrails, or nuclear snow, or something worse. Taking a deep and calming breath seemed to help as he finally entered the cavernous hangar. He looked around. As far as he could tell, he wasn't the only person missing, meaning a few other stragglers would surely show up after him. Cody almost chalked the raptor girl up as late, but realized that she had simply assumed her human form. That led him to an interesting riddle. Which was the true form and which the mutation? It was a classic case of whether the cretaceous chicken came before the fleshy egg-carrier.

He realized Merlovich was talking, but paid him no mind until he began to assign teams. Carefree as he was, he didn't want to be the lost fieldtrip kid who goes with the wrong group, ends up in the women's room, and is pummeled by made-up ladies in pumps. No, he'd never go through that again. So, he waited. The bulky ones were grouped together, sent out on a vague mission for someone called The Mechanic. "Unknown duress" could be anything from a hostage crisis to the phones lines going down and he was glad he was sent on a task with clear direction. Robbers and civilians. Stop one, save the others. He knew he'd be an invaluable asset to the team if only for his forcefields. If a sticky situation arose, he could easily stand between some of the sitting ducks and a few bullets.

That gave him pause. He didn't know much about the others on his team, seeing as they didn't so much wear their powers on their sleeves. He already had a strong dislike of Variant and her shit attitude. A stuck-up cynical little princess she may be, but he hoped her attitude could be backed up by a useful powerset. Hearing the name Calculus, he knew his was right about his assumption regarding the girl he'd encouraged earlier. She was skilled in maths, apparently, meaning her forte would be more theoretical, such as knowing the right angle to shoot one of his balls if he wanted to ricochet and hit something out of a criminal's hand. She came with the right team, then. Strategy and delicate calculations don't seem like the Bruise Crew's thing. He'd already figured out Mirage before Merlovich gave her a name. Magician's assistant til the day she'd die, that one. Junkyard... he admitted to having completely overlooked him the first time around. He hoped he could control metal and that he wasn't just one of those guys who makes cannons out of cathode ray tubes. Last but not least was the string-bean sob-queen. Angstbomb's cape name was so painfully on the nose that Cody prayed his power wasn't making others feel his existential dread and exaggerated ennui.

He was panicking now, ever so slightly. They had no battering ram. It was a bunch of tactically minded ranged folks or so it seemed. They'd need surgical precision to end the conflict from afar.

Clapping Angstbomb on the shoulder, he decided to be the positive one, "This'll be fun, huh? Nothing quite brings people together like protecting civilians and cuffing lowlifes." His grin was pretty fake. He didn't know why he bothered. All his life he'd been pleasant, but never really the ray of sunshine he was pretending to be, not since, well... the blonde turned to Calculus next, "Were you nervous earlier today because you hadn't gotten in a lot of superheroic practice with your skills? Don't worry about that. If you just tell me where to aim, we'll clear the place out." To demonstrate, he formed a small ball and shot it like a marble at the floor, watching with pleasure as it rebounded and leaped back into his hand.

Then, an actual question occurred to him. "Merlovich," he started, "We're going two different places, right? Are we both taking the White Wing? What's that seating arrangement gonna look like?" He envisioned carpooling, grade-school style. Carpooling plus a drunk alien, a Frankenstein's monster, a raptor, a rat with clothes, a mopey elf, a math genius, a clumsy Mattel toy, a vaudevillian magician, a dour nihilist, a scrappy mechanic-type, and, well, himself? He felt carsick.

The Criminally Underestimated Neighborhood Terminating Squad (Closed)

The Squad

Tough Luck

Name: Eduardo "Ardo" Montalbán

Alias: Tough Luck

Sex: Male

Age: 16

Appearance: Lanky, pale, scruffy and unkempt, Ardo seems a little bit thrown together. He carries himself a lot like his mother, seeming almost to float through life like some sort of rain cloud, but his impossibly messy hair and thick eyebrows seem to fly in the face of that somewhat ethereal grace. He slouches, his frame seems a few years late to the puberty party, and his relentless self-consciousness regarding his ears and a compulsive need to hide them belies the truly twitchy and sullen soul that rests within him. He always looks sleep deprived despite the generally sleepy way in which he moves.

Ardo

Powers:

Brass Mimicry is Ardo's primary power. He can transform his entire body to brass, or contain it to an isolated area if need be. The density can be modified to an extent, allowing him an incredibly thick outer skin for shielding but hindering his ability to move, or he can choose to thin out the coating if mobility becomes more of a concern.

Disaster Inducement is his secondary ability. As the name suggests, it makes him a walking jinx. Ardo is able to sabotage the actions of his enemies, but as the power remains a new one, he has some trouble relying on it. It requires a lot of energy and focus to use, and cannot be spammed. The higher the natural probability for disaster, the easier it is for him to fuck it up. For example? If someone is walking down a well-traveled city street with no immediate problem, it would take a lot of time, energy, and skill to cause a sinkhole to miraculously open up beneath them and frankly, there's no way he'd be able to do it at this stage. However, if that person was crossing under a piano being suspended above them, it'd be a much easier feat for Ardo to cause the ropes holding the piano up to fail.

Origin Story:

Other: (Additional information, including anything from pictures in costume to fun facts or even a theme song. Not required. If N/A, just remove this category in final CS)

The Apex

The Others

The Criminally Underestimated Neighborhood Terminating Squad (Closed)

CS Materials

Name:

Alias:

Sex:

Age:

Appearance: (Picture and text)

Powers: (Primary and secondary if applicable.)

Origin Story:

Other: (Additional information, including anything from pictures in costume to fun facts or even a theme song. Not required. If N/A, just remove this category in final CS)

The Criminally Underestimated Neighborhood Terminating Squad (Closed)

"Welcome to Escoria City," said no travel brochure ever. Everyone on the west coast, from newborns to comatose grannies, knows that Escoria is bad news. Much like the other nearby cities that were built by Spanish missionaries centuries ago, it is a sprawling urban expanse filled with people from all walks of life. There's the millionaires whose mansions form the spine of the city, each pearly white estate sitting on perfectly manicured lawn, providing a much needed break from the concrete and dead grass. Much more numerous, however, are the poor. Sandwiched into tiny apartments in high rise buildings, those less fortunate work the city's worst jobs or can't catch a break at all. The middle class dones exist, of course, but their lives are made a living hell thanks to smog and high crime rates. Something that all three social classes must deal with?

Supervillains.

That's the root of why Escoria City will never rank in a hoity toity magazine's list of places to visit before you die. Sure, every major city has those nowadays, but most of those cities also has a league of heroes to keep the most dangerous masterminds at bay. Up north, in Lacombe, a group of flying prettyboys called The Judges keep the peace against mad scientists and mutant mass murderers. Close to the border in San Lucas, the indomitable Raptor holds his own against an ever-expanding organization of baddies who call themselves the New Tyrants. In Escoria City, though? A group of five powerful villains known as The Apex, led by the speedster, Tempo, stand unopposed. To make matters worse, there are countless other villains who avoid the limelight and commit smaller scale crimes, finding the city perfectly defenseless against them.

Sure, sometimes a hero or two will step forward to try to protect the innocent, but they are inevitably overpowered and exhausted by the sheer number of wrongdoers. The current tryhard goes by the name Allegiant, and by all metrics, he's doing quite well. However, he plays very much by the books, and when The Apex strikes at full force, they will surely push the boyscout aside.

This is where we come in. We've decided to start calling ourselves the Criminally Underestimated Neighborhood Terminating Squad. It's got a nice ring to it, even though it's a helluva mouthful. We're a small group of ruthless, ultraviolent teen vigilantes up against some of the savviest villains in the world. Well, that's what the headlines have been saying anyway. I personally think they're overreacting. However, the vigilante part is totally right. We've seen how The Apex operates and we know that the rules mean fuck-all when you're up against them. So, sure, we're a somewhat mismatched outfit of rookies, but at least we're willing to do what others won't.

Sacred Arms: a Tale of Heroes

My work schedule is lightening up a bit, so I'll slide a CS in before the deadline.

Superheroics 101

That first meeting went about as well as could be expected. Cody shook his head. It was a slight gesture, but he didn't want it to be misunderstood. He wasn't disappointed, in fact, it was quite the contrary. He was beginning to be impressed with what the group had to offer. What they lacked in experience, they seemingly made up in spunk.

He managed to commit the map more or less to memory, the relevant details at least, before he was ready to leave. A bit of unexpected movement from the other side of the room caught his attention and he was shocked to find that what he thought was an avant garde clay sculpture actually lived and breathed. Cody pursed his lips together. He hadn't actually expected to see an alien. Maybe he's not even an alien. I'm making assumptions. He could very well be a mutant or, what's that preferred term? Biologically askew? He watched, unimpressed, as he slurred his speech and belched. The smell of two hundred proof breath almost wafed all the way to his nostrils. Cody suppressed the urge to retch. That's probably a disgrace to extraterrestrials. Chances are, that's a guy with a terrible case of eczema and a record-breaking skull deformation. However, with some alarm, he noticed he almost felt the urge to go over and examine that bizarre cranial structure. For better or for worse, he'd always been a tactile kind of guy.

Breaking away from the room to make a soundless exit, he made sure to give the raptor and the pouty male model the space they'd need before heading out. His room was close by, luckily, so he wouldn't need to hear the two bickering. Or they could be doing much worse. He couldn't have reached the door any faster if he tried.

Once finally in the room, he noticed the uniform that was set atop a bedside table, but it failed to capture more than a fleeting glimmer of his attention. He felt oddly exhausted, and he sat on his bed, hands clasped and perched on his knees. It had finally become real. He was doing something to finally move on. As proud as he felt about these first steps, they also made him painfully aware that he'd been walking around on empty for so long. He blew a strand of hair from his face.

The blonde spared a few moments to scrutinize his newest wardrobe addition. There was no doubt that it was of a higher quality than anything he'd ever even laid eyes upon before. The texture of the weave suggested it would be easy to move in and incredibly breathable. A little more poking and prodding made him wonder if it was built to be especially resistant. He was half tempted to walk down the hall and ask someone to shoot him, just to test it out, but he didn't want anyone getting the wrong idea. Earnest as they all may be, there was still that little issue of an unshakeable fog of insanity that loomed over the group. One of them might be packing a weapon or skill that even Moneybags and his Incredible Blinking Secretary couldn't have prepared for. If he was gonna bleed out, he'd do it heroically, thank you very much, and not at the hands of someone who likely thought him suicidal.

He exhaled once more and lifted his legs, laying himself flat on the bed. It wasn't spectacularly comfortable, but he sort of liked it that way. It reinforced the fact that this wasn't some cozy retreat. It was a job. Treated properly, it could become a home away from home. Taken for granted, it'd be a prison. As he closed his eyes for a quick rest, he couldn't help but laugh.

"I will pay for its repair with my first wage."

It was the cutest thing he'd heard in ages and it came from Rock'em Sock'em of all people. He was sure Merlovich didn't give a rat's ass... (that was now surely an indelicate phrase) about a table he procured for his troupe of fools. But still, Mr. Roboto cared. There was truly a spark there, a tender sprout of compassion, that would surely take them all a long way.

Spirit Hunters ( Darog x Foxxie)

His stomach was in knots as the pair ran towards their first mission. It was a combination of overt adrenaline and a nagging sliver of common sense, instilling him with just enough fear to render him cautious. However, they reached their mark too quickly for that seed to take root in earnest. Seeing the scruffy warehouse worker crouching and caterwauling like that made him somewhat giddy. The Berserker had to be truly horrendous to wind a guy up like that. Once he was placed into a talisman-induced sleep, Yunosuke took care to drag him by the shoulders to an area just behind a few tall crates. He didn't want anyone discovering this guy, unconscious and unresponsive in the street, and complicating his life even further by shipping the otherwise perfectly healthy man to a hospital ward. It'd be hard enough for the guy to wake up with just enough of a hole in his memory that he wouldn't be able to fill easily.

Yokai didn't quite understand how terrifying it could be for humans. As a demon, it's easy to accept the existence of other, more terrifying beings, and the darker worlds in which they roam. For most humans, the safety of their well-policed daytime hours and the vaguely threatening but ultimately harmless shadows of the post-dusk were the norm. Being rudely awakened to the omnipresent twilight in which the world actually exists, where the creatures and terrors of an unending night are free to cast shadows under even the most brilliant lights, was an absolutely unenviable experience. He didn't wish it on this poor guy.

It was then that Hattori declared that they'd need to enter the spirit world to find their quarry. He nodded and grasped his partner's shoulder loosely, awaiting swift deliverance into the in-between realm. Though the journey, so to speak, was short, it became clear that they had traveled quite a distance.

The spirit world always seemed a shade or two darker than the human realm. This, though, was something else entirely. As Yunosuke looked around, he noticed the abandoned equipment and stacks of wooden boxes, and watched with interest as they warped. It was a subtle change, one easily missed if scrutinized. Their shapes had become distorted, almost as though they had been pinched and stretched. Some appeared taller than they originally had, lording a few extra inches over the pair, while others had begun to lose their shapes altogether, blurring as though they were in his peripheral vision, even though he was looking them dead center. A chill hung about his shoulders and kept him on alert. With so many things so slightly skewed, there had to be a powerful force at work. Probably nothing they couldn't handle, but powerful nonetheless.

It didn't take long for the beast to show itself. It arrived on the scene with a flourish of syncopated movements, and Yunosuke's lip curled in disgust. He was transfixed by the motion of its bulbous eyes as they churned in their sockets, seeming to be doomed to a state of perpetual motion. For a brief moment, he realized that he seemingly intuitively recognized the monster's eyes as red, but could note no such color when actually surveying its face. He'd heard about this phenomenon before.

Humans who were attuned with the spirit world tended to be colorblind. The correlation wasn't immediately clear to experts, and research on the topic was admittedly threadbare, but as Yunosuke felt his eyes and intuition feed him different stories, he thought he was able to piece it together. Seeing the world in tones of grey was a necessity as far as the spirit world was concerned. Humans were usually too preoccupied with vibrant visual stimuli to really take the time to focus in on their surroundings. There was a sharpness inherent in being so otherwise undistracted. As for why and how his brain was filling in the rest, that would remain a mystery, as the frog swung its arms down on them.

They both jumped out of the way, and the human had to marvel at the fact that a creature seemingly made of tar could move so quickly and efficiently. Hattori seemed fired up, and Yunosuke felt the same thing flare up within him.

He decided he'd make the first move. The delinquent charged ahead, telegraphing his movement to make it painfully clear to the frog that he was coming. The Berserker reacted in kind, taking a large bound backwards. That, at least, was something. It showed a modicum of intelligence on its part or, rather, a preference towards striking from a position of great potential energy. Yunosuke figured that meant they'd need to corner the beast. Trapping and immobilizing it would be the best case scenario, but failing that, backing the toad into a corner and limiting its movements would be best.

"Hey, Hattori. You any good at catching frogs?" he looked around the large space and tried to spot strategic advantages. The walls and corners were mostly obstructed by boxes and two forklifts. Besides that, they were pretty far away. It was a spacious warehouse, and it seemed impractical to play towards the natural barriers. They'd need to make their own.

Yunosuke had dawdled for too long, and the frog took a mighty bound in his direction, crashing down beside him, tongue wavering between shark like teeth. It drew an arm back for a well-aimed punch, and Yunosuke dodged by means of a fairly sloppy roll. He needed an opening, a distraction to make this a bit easier on them both.

A brilliant idea dawned on him. He climbed atop a crate, one at the base of a small mound, and called out to his partner, "Keep him busy a sec, would ya?"

Superheroics 101

Post might be up tonight. Otherwise, tomorrow! I doubt I'll pester you for a collab, Hellis.

Superheroics 101

A cursory glance around the room would have made it painfully clear that they were exactly a clown and an elephant short of a three ring circus. Well, scratch that. The pleasantly grinning oaf could probably wear a red nose handsomely, and who could ask for those peanut-loving grandstanders when there's a living, breathing raptor in the room? He took a short, calming breath. They were officially Barnum and Bailey's.

Doing what he knew best, he kept his hands busy, summoning up a marble-sized sphere and passing it between his fingers in a seamless wavelike motion. He really thought the past year couldn't get much worse. Little did he know, he'd be spending time in a room with a giant rat and a bunch of super-powered kids. Some of them looked like kids to him, especially the stammering little waif who'd spoken first. That made his brow furrow, because nobody in the goddamn universe fussed about kids unless they were old and bitter. He definitely could check off the bitter box, but old? Cody shrugged and paid attention to what vitriol one of his new teammates was spewing.

He knew she was right, but the blonde still felt like he had to smooth it over. It just didn't sit with him that someone could make that their first impression when so much was on the line.

"Look, sweetheart," Cody allowed himself one pointed barb before continuing, "None of us came in here today with the expectation of saving the world single handed." The raptor might've, but that would be single-clawed. He omitted the joke and moved on, "I don't think I'm too far off when I say a fair few of us have already been knocked on our asses. We're here now, though, and we want to make something of ourselves, even if it means we get beat up sometimes." He offered a kind smile to the girl whose concern sparked all of this.

Cody wasn't much of a motivational speaker, and that was really too much front-and-center time for his delicate constitution, so he leaned back against the wall he'd stuck close to, captured the marble of energy in his hand, and crossed his arms over his chest. With a wry smirk, he considered the fact that they at least had the numbers to overwhelm a group of crooks. Plus, he was sure each and every one of these folks had their own set of abilities, and a good deal of them were probably more impressive than the power to shoot tiny spheres around like in some arcade game.

He busied himself trying to guess his cohorts' talents. Raptor girl and rabbit-in-a-hat were both confirmed. He assumed the rat's powers were just... being a rat. Which was cool. The scowling one probably had some sort of toxins in her skin or something, like one of those rainforest frogs. The one he'd smiled at, with her question about success, either came from a background of insurance agents or she had a non-combat power. Mr. Rock'em Sock'em arms had the ability to give himself a bloody nose, plus he got to have metal arms. He snickered.

He pretended not to notice Mr. Happystein falling out of his chair, as not to embarrass him. However, that reminded him of the metaphorical second shoe that had yet to drop. Everyone was asking about the mission: how many mooks would they beat up, where were they going, what would happen in case things went wrong. All he wanted to know was one thing, but he'd seen movies, and he knew Merlovich would never fess up directly.

"You're a really big name around here. You're filthy rich, and don't think this means I don't appreciate you giving us a chance, but couldn't you afford better?" He gave an apologetic shrug to his comrades, "I'm sure we'll be a great team someday, but most of us haven't used our powers for anything even remotely dangerous before. Guys like you take risks on the stockmarket, not on crusades like this one."

Superheroics 101

I'm gonna be posting today, starting the post up in a few minutes actually. Nice to see that this group moves fast.