Bruce rolled his eyes but said nothing as Jack continued to yell about something or other. He didn't want to comment or join the argument, having been asleep when it started and therefore unaware of what it was actually about.
"Done?" Bruce asked, "Good. Does it make sense to expect an ambush? Who knows we're on this mission besides us? She can't lie in wait if she doesn't know we're coming. I guess the military grade jet doesn't help, we could have just flown commercial and tried to be covert."
Press jumped in and dumped on Jack's "burning through walls" idea. He also called him by the wrong name, which Bruce found amusing.
"Yeah," Bruce agreed, "Not too subtle. I guess nothing about you is. I wonder why that is...?"
"Do we have a plan besides 'look for people with tattoos?'"
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I mentioned Titan restraining collars, but I don't know if there actually is such a thing.
I'm actually not accepting anyone else at the moment. If you like, I can send you a message when I am.
Bruce was tired and bedraggled this morning. He had his mask pulled down over his eyes, trying to catch a nap(at x3 synchronization, to get some extra time) while they were in transit. Unlike Nathan, who could be pumped full of drugs to keep his powers in check, the Overseers seemed to be at a loss for what to do about Bruce's power. They could completely turn it off with a Titan restraining collar, but that was just a bandaid for his lack of control. Instead, they opted on forcing rigorous control training on him. Though they couldn't control his synchronization, they could measure it.
He was outfitted with a watch that had both a regular, mechanical clock, and a digital one with a remote link to an atomic clock back at HQ. The digital would always show Normal Earth Time, and the mechanical clock would always show Bruce's Relative Time. There was a third display that calculated how many times NET the current BRT was. Not only was he expected to keep a steady desync level while performing difficult tasks, but they had taken to having him hold his sync at .85 while sparring. It gave Bruce a new appreciation for what it was like to fight him, but he could see a big difference from when they first started doing that to him. It was definitely honing his reflexes and physical speed.
His control over his powers was improving, but last night he had had a bad dream(nerves before his first mission) and accidentally slowed his personal time, making him tired and sleep deprived the next morning.
Some kind of commotion woke him, and he raised his hood and resynced to see Linn and the new guy about to match blows. He briefly considered getting between them(as was a habit of his whenever his teammates seemed about to fight) but Ambrose was on top of things, as usual. Bruce decided it was a bit late to be sleeping, so he pulled his mask back off of his head and rubbed his face.
"How're we going to find her?" he broke in to the conversation about the mission suddenly, "Split up?"
He was outfitted with a watch that had both a regular, mechanical clock, and a digital one with a remote link to an atomic clock back at HQ. The digital would always show Normal Earth Time, and the mechanical clock would always show Bruce's Relative Time. There was a third display that calculated how many times NET the current BRT was. Not only was he expected to keep a steady desync level while performing difficult tasks, but they had taken to having him hold his sync at .85 while sparring. It gave Bruce a new appreciation for what it was like to fight him, but he could see a big difference from when they first started doing that to him. It was definitely honing his reflexes and physical speed.
His control over his powers was improving, but last night he had had a bad dream(nerves before his first mission) and accidentally slowed his personal time, making him tired and sleep deprived the next morning.
Some kind of commotion woke him, and he raised his hood and resynced to see Linn and the new guy about to match blows. He briefly considered getting between them(as was a habit of his whenever his teammates seemed about to fight) but Ambrose was on top of things, as usual. Bruce decided it was a bit late to be sleeping, so he pulled his mask back off of his head and rubbed his face.
"How're we going to find her?" he broke in to the conversation about the mission suddenly, "Split up?"
Yeah, but he'd be wasting fuel lowering himself to the ground. If everyone else is parachuting, he may as well too, right?
So who's the pilot in the group? Probably a Monk, but I just realized that I don't know if anyone has that skill. Or it could be that all Heroes are trained in flight.
How about Bruce just super sonic sucker punches Jack?
And that's how I let you know I'm still around. Can't post right now, but I will in like... five or six hours. Gotta go to work, but it's a half shift.
And that's how I let you know I'm still around. Can't post right now, but I will in like... five or six hours. Gotta go to work, but it's a half shift.
Oh, and send it in the form of a short post. So I know how your character acts when questioning.
I'll post again later tonight, so if you have a question submit it soon. Doesn't have to be elaborate. In fact, if it's too long I'm just going to cut bits out of it.
I'll post again later tonight, so if you have a question submit it soon. Doesn't have to be elaborate. In fact, if it's too long I'm just going to cut bits out of it.
If your character does have a question for Lord Vull, actually PM it to me and I'll take care of all of them at once, as well as the post where they launch.
As the young Heroes gathered and milled about, they were suddenly cut off from whatever they were doing by a siren and a loud whirring as the great launching bay doors at the end of the room opened. A forceful wind swept through the bay, and as the double doors slide away to reveal an opening, dominated by what was unmistakably a Consortium ship. It hovered outside the door as it opened, nose facing outward, and when the warning sirens cut off it slowly taxied backwards into the bay, extended its landing gear, and lowered itself to the floor gently.
It was a very square, angular vehicle, and not much bigger than the average school bus. The flight wings were folded up to the side, and the lift jets were currently rotated downward to allow for vertical take off and landing. As the rotors whined to a stop, the back hatch opened up and out stepped Lord Vull in full armor. He surveyed the room, noted that the Monks had seen fit to send more Heroes than either of the other Realms. He quietly sought an excuse to remove one from the mission, and his eyes immediately locked on a Monk who apparently felt that being shirtless prepared him for battle.
"You," Vull barked across the bay at him, removing his helmet. "Just what kind of combat gear is that? Do you have no idea where you're going right now? Get out of my sight!" The young Monk opened his mouth to argue, but Vull shouted him down, "I don't want to hear it, if you're still in the Bay in five seconds I'll see you tried for treason!"
As the Monk fled the bay, Vull seemed to calm down instantly. "Alright kiddies, as you know, the heads of the Realms have been considering a fresh wave of requests from states who want Consortium protection. One state in particular, the city of South Haven, has had a sudden change of heart and is now ready to accept fealty to the Protectorate." He paced in front of the gathered Heroes as he talked, helmet under his arm, not looking at them. "There are concerns that their change of heart might be temporary, perhaps brought on by fear of some encroaching threat. We can't accept them into the Protectorate, only to have them refuse the Consortium's Choosing," he faced them, finally, looking between them, but lingering the longest on Arkos.
"This is primarily a recon mission. You are to observe the situation around South Haven. Identify and quantify possible threats to the city-state. And, quietly, to observe their apparent feelings toward your presence. We feel it is necessary to determine whether they are truly willing to accept fealty before we will extend the Protectorate's reach, especially for a state so far below the Last Line. South Haven is outside of our standard communication range. You will be on your own. I expect you to make good decisions and to properly represent the Consortium. Remember that reinforcements are at least three hours away, if things get hairy, you are to retreat back to the Last Line. You have no obligation toward these people. They are not under the Protectorate yet. Don't get sentimental. Any questions?"
It was a very square, angular vehicle, and not much bigger than the average school bus. The flight wings were folded up to the side, and the lift jets were currently rotated downward to allow for vertical take off and landing. As the rotors whined to a stop, the back hatch opened up and out stepped Lord Vull in full armor. He surveyed the room, noted that the Monks had seen fit to send more Heroes than either of the other Realms. He quietly sought an excuse to remove one from the mission, and his eyes immediately locked on a Monk who apparently felt that being shirtless prepared him for battle.
"You," Vull barked across the bay at him, removing his helmet. "Just what kind of combat gear is that? Do you have no idea where you're going right now? Get out of my sight!" The young Monk opened his mouth to argue, but Vull shouted him down, "I don't want to hear it, if you're still in the Bay in five seconds I'll see you tried for treason!"
As the Monk fled the bay, Vull seemed to calm down instantly. "Alright kiddies, as you know, the heads of the Realms have been considering a fresh wave of requests from states who want Consortium protection. One state in particular, the city of South Haven, has had a sudden change of heart and is now ready to accept fealty to the Protectorate." He paced in front of the gathered Heroes as he talked, helmet under his arm, not looking at them. "There are concerns that their change of heart might be temporary, perhaps brought on by fear of some encroaching threat. We can't accept them into the Protectorate, only to have them refuse the Consortium's Choosing," he faced them, finally, looking between them, but lingering the longest on Arkos.
"This is primarily a recon mission. You are to observe the situation around South Haven. Identify and quantify possible threats to the city-state. And, quietly, to observe their apparent feelings toward your presence. We feel it is necessary to determine whether they are truly willing to accept fealty before we will extend the Protectorate's reach, especially for a state so far below the Last Line. South Haven is outside of our standard communication range. You will be on your own. I expect you to make good decisions and to properly represent the Consortium. Remember that reinforcements are at least three hours away, if things get hairy, you are to retreat back to the Last Line. You have no obligation toward these people. They are not under the Protectorate yet. Don't get sentimental. Any questions?"
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