Korkoa

Variance

Jason Graves stood near the police line, trying to keep a close eye on the goings-on inside the bank. His hood was up, partially obscuring his face from cameras and prying eyes, just in case he needed to run in. He hoped he didn't have to. This was wrong. This was so far outside of his usual MO. Still early, crowds, cops, this was the opposite of how Overclock worked. Hell, if he hadn't been cutting through this street to get home from work more quickly, he wouldn't even be here. But the tension was building, and if something didn't happen soon... Those guns might not be for show anymore.

Jason glanced up to the rooftops as he felt sense of calm suddenly settle over him. he breathed a sigh of relief, his eyes scanning the skyline. Emma was up there somewhere. She'd be trying to defuse the situation too, in her own way. The second set of eyes was welcoming, and Jason knew she had him on speed dial if they needed to get in touch. Reaching into his hoodie pocket, Jason's real hand closed comfortingly around his folded staff, ready to strike.

Something caught Jason's eye then, pulling his attention from the bank. At the edges of the crowd, a black spot in the sea of bodies. Shifting closer to get a better look, Jason saw the form of a large black dog. No collar, practically silent. Feral dogs weren't unheard of in New Haven, but for one to be here, in this crowd? This early in the evening? Jason edged closer to the beast, noticing that it had some kind of... Unreal quality to it. Something wasn't right about that dog.

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Emma Graves, the younger sister of the vigilante in the streets below, was having her own staredown. She had initially transformed into her angelic form in a small alleyway, not realizing that the cramped space was a bad idea with her 30 foot wingspan. Squeezing out of the far end of the alley she had run a few streets down before taking flight, hoping to be far enough from the bank that she attracted little attention. It seemed to have worked, and she glided low over the rooftops, coming to rest a moment later on top of a rooftop garden overlooking the bank. Close enough that her peaceful aura would begin affecting at least some of the crowd, but not so close that she could draw attention.

That was when Emma noticed the other figure. Just across on the next rooftop, blending in with the shadows under an overhang, was a costumed figure. Like some sort of phantom the raven-faced being stood silent and still, seemingly watching over the square. Angel looked around at the other rooftops, which seemed to be empty for now, before deciding to take the chance. She took off sprinting towards the edge of the roof, leaping off as her foot pushed against the ledge. Her wings unfurled and caught the breeze, sending Angel soaring across the gap and landing solidly on the other side. A quick glance to the skies showed that the choppers and drones still seemed preoccupied with the bank, though that could change at any moment. Moving slowly towards the figure, Angel hissed through her teeth to try and get the others attention. "Hey! Hey, you, Raven-Face! What are you doing up here?"

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Jessica Beadle stood in the middle of the crowd, her arms crossed and a pout on her young face. This was so uncool. She had been planning on hitting this bank next week, after the heat from her last robbery died down. But here these morons were, hitting a bank in the middle of a high alert and ruining it for her! Not to mention the hostage situation, and the obvious panic inside the bank. Amateurs.

Tapping her foot impatiently, Jessie pulled her long brown coat around herself tighter. Her phone buzzed to life and a message blasted into her ears through the ear buds she had added to her ensemble, making her wince with the sudden noise. Kit Kat was online, blasting out a message... A call about this very bank, asking for help from... People like herself. Jessie grinned and cricked her knuckles, shivering in anticipation as she felt the slight release of static electricity from her hands. Score some brownie points and get these goons to back off her turf? Yes please...

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Oscar Fonatine stalked the edge of the police barrier like a tiger stalked the wall of his enclosure at the zoo. This was a nightmare. Any one of a million things could go wrong at any one of a million moments. First priority; the hostages. Second priority; crowd control. Third priority; the robbers.If he had to, Officer Fontaine knew he would put himself between the robbers and the hostages. He just had to get there first. The hostage negotiator was bumbling his way through the handbook, and not a damn thing was working.

They'd have to send in a team soon, and Oscar knew he'd be on it even if he didn't volunteer. His 'brothers' in blue had nothing to lose by sending him, and everything to gain. Either he pulled off another miracle, take down every one of those bastards without a single fatality; or it'd be his body on the floor. And then the corrupt police force of the city would finally be rid of him, the biggest thorn in their side since Wulf had left the force.

The Westminster League Of Extraordinary Individuals (WWII Superhero Spy RP)

Very much so. I havr been wanting to do that to Jason for about a year.

The Westminster League Of Extraordinary Individuals (WWII Superhero Spy RP)

I'm just waiting on @MegaOscarPwn to reply again, it seems like a good place to jump back in and there seems to be a few characters interacting there or orbiting the conversation.

Star Wars: Scav's

My apologies @Almosegosum@frapet, work has been pretty draining lately. I have a post up now though.

Star Wars: Scav's

Roka strode up to the door, pulling his repair kit off of his belt and removing the face of the locking mechanism that would lead them onto the dead ship. He knelt beside the exposed panel, wishing he had a dedicated slicing kit as he listened to the doctor describe the layout of the ship from memory. He began to use his repair tools to interface with the vulnerable locking mechanism, given a few moments he could get the door open. Not as quickly or cleanly as a slicing kit, but it would get the job done. "Hopefully we won't have to choose." He replied to Marr, focusing on the task at hand. "But if worst comes to worst, I say we take the more expensive stuff. Between all our contacts, we should be able to find someone to fence it pretty simply, even if it's more, what'd you say? 'Esoteric'? I think we can handle it."

The tinny voice of the stowaway on the comm gave Roka pause, putting one of the repair terminals between his teeth to grab his link. "Great work kid, that's the kind of info we need." He said, his voice somewhat muffled by the tool in his mouth. "I want you to stay down there and keep an eye on that pod, okay? If they take off, blast them to pieces; we don't need runners complicating things." He said, hoping the boy would follow orders. If killing could be avoided, Roka would have preferred that option. However, there would be no getting around it soon enough, he felt.

Roka paused in his work as his antennae pricked upwards, someone was approaching the door... Panic, insecurity, but also a kind of determination... A feeling of grim. "We have a welcoming commitee." He said to the doctor. "I think it's two. Strong feelings coming from one, but something a lot more subdued too... I'd guess one of the scientists and a trooper. I get a bad feeling coming from them. I'm going to pop the doors in a second here, we both hide behind the wall for cover. See what they do. If they surrender, great. If not, I'm shooting back." Roka waited for a moment for his companion to get into place, then pressed a final button on the panel, the door sliding open with a hiss.

The Balosar threw himself behind cover as a burst of blaster fire rained from the open doorway. He was nearly singed by the shots from the trooper, but the other one seemed to just be firing blind. Roka waited a few seconds for the initial burst to fade slightly before getting to his feet and running across the door's opening towards the opposite wall. As he ran he drew his twin blasters and fired off a half a dozen shots, hoping to get at least one of their foes.

The Westminster League Of Extraordinary Individuals (WWII Superhero Spy RP)

Jason slid out of the truck silently as they arrived at their destination, keeping a curious eye on the silent girl and her adverse reaction to Tommy's display of his powers. Sure, people like them weren't commonplace, and Jason had seen more than his fair share of hostility towards people with powers, but never from someone who supposedly had a set of her own. He'd have to keep an eye on her, that didn't bode very well.

The Irishman perked up a bit as he heard the familiar accent from the solder speaking with their leader, though he chose to stay back at this point as well. Though his father was Irish through and through, Jason himself had spent most of his life never seeing the emerald hills of his father's land. It was only recently that Jason had even met his father, and adopted the dialect that seemed his birthright. He smiled politely to McKenley as he followed the group onto the plan, smiling slightly under his bandana as he heard that their equipment was on board.

Following the group to the overhead compartments, Jason rifled around until he found an old friend. His fingers closed around a wooden staff and he pulled it out slowly feeling the carvings and the worn handgrip from years of use. This, along with his bandana and violin were the only things he'd managed to save from that night. The violin had to stay behind for obvious reasons, but this... He would use this and his mask to take his revenge against the army that took his family from him. Slipping his wrist through the loop of soft leather at the top of the staff, Jason turned and found a seat. This was the only thing he'd taken, aside from the obvious; standard provisions and such. He traveled light. One had to, in his life.

Jason turned and looked at the man next to him, chuckling softly at the obvious nervousness of Oscar, the Spaniard with the Italian-sounding alias. He leaned in a bit closer and planted the end on his staff on the floor, bracing himself on it. "Ye think they'd put us an' their solders on board a faulty plane, friend?" He asked, ribbing the other man playfully. "Nah, the motor'll be jus' fine, mark my words! It's all the bullets that we'll hafta worry about, enemy airspace an' all." Leaning back Jason lowered his voice just slightly, enough that he hoped it would be taken as more serious. "Course, if tha' were to happen... Straight to Valhalla with ye, eh? Carried on the wings of Valkyries, off to enjoy an eternity of everylastin' glory, honor, feastin', drinkin'. Half-Vikin' an' all, plus goin' down in glorious battle... You've got somethin' to look forward to either way, dontcha think?"

@MegaOscarPwn

The Westminster League Of Extraordinary Individuals (WWII Superhero Spy RP)

Oh, @Lady Selune I've been meaning to ask. I had meant to add a violin to Jason's equipment, but completely spaced on it when I wrote his CS. Can I add that in now, or should we just leave it behind?

The Westminster League Of Extraordinary Individuals (WWII Superhero Spy RP)

Jason can potentially land himself alright. He'd have to bleed off the energy taken from the fall pretty quickly though, terminal velocity would build up a fairly large boom. :P

The Westminster League Of Extraordinary Individuals (WWII Superhero Spy RP)

Jason sat in moderate silence as he took in the conversations being thrown round the truck. He couldn't help but chuckle at some of the antics from the Spaniard, though he did worry somewhat about the apparent nervousness of the man. It could be bad going into enemy territory with someone unprepared. Jason at least had an idea of the landscape, some knowledge of local cultures, and it's not like anything could hurt him anyway so long as he paid attention.

Looking around, Jason found himself worrying slightly about remembering all these people. He'd grown up with many faces around, but he'd seen all of those since birth, that was second nature. These strangers, their names, aliases, powers... He'd have to work hard to keep it all in his mind. Oscar/Tony; control of water. Tommy, the Englishman. 'Bel'/Meili and her twin whos' name Jason had missed; more water control and electricity. Kazia/Anna; something was strange about her voice, but no power seemed forthcoming. Lui/Sylvia; some kind of healing. A lot to take in, and that wasn't even everybody.

Jason jumped a bit, startled as the ice popsicle crashed onto the truck's floor beside him. Chuckling, he reached down to pick up a larger piece, lifting his bandana to pop it into his mouth and bite down with a refreshing and satisfying crunch. He looked up from his seat on the floor to the conversation happening above and waved slightly. "Well, now that ye all've had your turn, I suppose it's my go, eh? Jason Graves fer the purposes o' this trip. Dependin' on how far we get an' how deep undercover we hafta go, I might also by ze name of Jason Tombe," He said, slipping into a passable French accent; "Or even Johan Graben if ve enter Deutschland." He said, finishing off with a German accent. "Though if ye need to get my attention, Jason'll be jus' fine. As fer what I can do... Well it's a toughy to explain, but I s'ppose I can sum up with 'Ye try to hurt me, I hurt ye back twice as hard.'" He said with a wink barely visible through his goggles.

"Now, I heard somthin' about cards or music? I play both, what're we up to fellas?"

Star Wars: Scav's

Roka shuddered slightly at the growing heat of barely checked emotion coming from Marr. The doctor had some kind of plan brewing, something that felt as if it were scratching a dark itch inside of him. Roka began to reconsider storming the ship, but it was too late now for second thoughts... He opened the comms to Bast, informing the boy of their plan and going over the basics of how to work the turret as he warmed up the ion canon.

Run by a few times, breach their shields. Open comms, offer a surrender. Five shots. The ion canon had five shots in his charge. It could take anywhere from five to fifteen minutes to recharge the massive batteries that powered the canon, so five shots had to do. Two to the command station, knock out their comms. One to the turret, keep them from being a threat. one to the disabled engines, just in case. One spare, in case he needed to help punch through the shields or something unforseen should happen. Dock at the airlock. Go room by room. No Death Sticks, he needed to be able to sense the occupants. Keep a close eye on the doctor.

Roka nodded as he completed his mental checklist, opening comms to Bast again. "Alright kiddo, on my mark..." He said, pushing the ship forward and allowing himself a smile as he felt the engines thrum. "Open fire!" He called after a moment, whooping as the red lasers arced through space and scattered along the blue burst of the Imps shields. Those wouldn't last long. Roka opened a frequency to the ship now, offering them a chance. "Attention Imperial science vessel, this is Captain Zal'Ebos of The Steadfast. We're going to completely disable your vessel and then board it for your pretty tech. We can go through the rigamarole of us wearing you down and hunting you inside your ship, or you can surrender! We'll leave you alive and unharmed, able to limp back to your precious Empire. Whaddaya say?"