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Interesting stuff.
I think I might have a character concept that would go quite well with this RP.

Base idea: A fake princess. Basically a princess and the pauper situation... sorta. Base idea is that she was a body double/body guard/assassin for a trouble-making princess but helped her escape her royal life/consequences of her actions and took her place for the banishment lovely school trip. I'll admit, I'm struggling with the fine details currently, but that's the core concept.

I also have some leanings towards maybe the real princess dying, and the body double taking her place with none -or few, if any- the wiser. Maybe, the princess was killed by her carelessness of something. Heck, maybe in the course of training to be a body double and basically learning all the things the real princess was, said body double ended up looking like a far more appropriate heir, even without royal blood. So, someone assassinated the princess and arranged for her to be the replacement. Meanwhile, the "sending her to the school" thing is an excuse to explain why her behavior is changed when she returns to cover up the switch.

Chinami Nadakai


Thankfully, the boys appeared to be in a trusting enough mood, despite the circumstances, to ask no questions. Which was really quite good, because they were extraordinarily low on time. Time that was being wasted by their questions, leaving her unable to get much of a word in sideways aside from answering. At the least, however, she managed to apply the Anti-scrying suite of enhancements. And while they were nattering, she decided to slap Gift Ward, Enhancement Solidity, and Gift Draining Ward as well on them. While it wouldn't restore what they'd lost, not immediately, it would protect them from being drained further and stop Nightman from tearing down her protections as easily if he got a hand on them. The last of the three, she added to her current suite as well, along with refreshing her current set, just to hopefully close up any lingering cracks from the Doctor's assault.

To the blond, she replied, still in a whisper, "Not quite a captive, if barely so. It was too close for comfort, but I got the sense that something was wrong beforehand and came prepared." In regards to the mention of Nightman's allies, she grimaced. "I'm well aware. My Gift makes information gathering much easier. Hence, the preparation and my current freedom." She then shook her head. "I have half a plan at best. Nightman has every advantage, and his power is too dangerous to take head on." Her Gift Analysis, meanwhile, whirred along to her enhanced perceptions.

Core power, Throne de Lux. This time, with a deeper read, Chinami couldn't help smiling at the strength of the ability. It seemed some measure of luck was with her to have allies like these in her time of peril. Though... strangely, there was a certain feeling of unease she couldn't shake about the power, a feeling like a polarized magnet that almost made her want to flinch away. She could only downturn her lips in confusion at that.

Purifict Anatomia. The vast breadth of restorative measures available to this branch ability got her appreciation.

Lux Energia. Once more, that strange sense of unease rippled through her, but on an objective level, what she saw was of particular asset.

Damoclaiomh Solais. A third time, greater than either before, she felt that strange sense of unease, enough so to make her want to turn her gaze away. It was strange, almost like she was being stared right back at... But Chinami shook the feeling off. It was just a powerful sword, and if what she was reading was correct, then it hadn't been stolen at all by Nightman. Rather, it was something that couldn't be taken by the unworthy, by the unroyal. And Nightman, the pathetic thief, was the furthest thing from it.

"Oh? This One professes mine greetings upon thine august self. It has been some time, has it not?"


Chinami opened her mouth to tell the boys she was about to teleport them away, a good faith gesture of warning, only to be interrupted by the brunet. Frowning, Chinami's foot tapped on the floor in a rather stressed manner, as she tried to fly through his questions to get to her damn point. They were running out of time! "In order: He drained our fucking powers for himself, because he's a godsdamnned Gift thief, and I really couldn't care less about his goals." She paused, a strange sensation of strength filtering into her. A quick check and identification of the brunet's lone Gift as being Core Power: Highest Heaven, Lowest Hell solved the mystery. A Gift enhancer... useful, enough so that she felt like she was almost back to full strength. The odds against Nightman had just gotten far less slim. Even if he'd taken a fair amount from her, she should still hopefully be able to brute force through with this much of her original power restored. Not that she planned on being quite so reckless, but she very much appreciated having the option.

Shaking her head, Chinami refocused on the situation at hand. The brunet was saying something about leaving timed messages in the case of his disappearance, which was... Somehow even more paranoid than she was in some ways, but she could honestly respect it a bit... especially given that it wasn't paranoia if you were right. And well, looks like both she and him had been very much been correct. He was further speaking of Nightman potentially having very powerful friends, a worry she also shared, but she shook her head. "We can worry about that later. Right now, it's going to be bad enough just trying to get us all out of this clusterfuck intact. Look-" She licked her lips nervously. "We need to get out of here, now. I can, indeed, teleport us out of here, so hang onto my hands and-"

The lights f l i c k e r e d.

The shadows w r i t h e d.

Her Spirit was moving almost faster than she could comprehend the danger, its arms reaching out to both boys' shoulders to shove them in opposite directions, as the legs and torso wrenched Chinami's body sideways. A sythe of b l a c k n e s s passed through the space she once occupied, almost seeming to sink into the floor. It was a lingering streak of hungry emptiness, a darkness darker than dark, that almost seemed to eat the light... and everything else for that matter, but Chinami could only keep half an eye on the phenomenon in the face of the perpetrator's appearance.

The Man in the Suit.

Their physical exit was cut off, and although the endangered trio were spread out, Chinami knew if she could just get her hands on both of the boys again, they could escape... But... what if this was better? This was what she wanted, right? This was the plan? She needed to pick off Nightman's allies first and hopefully deprive him of power. And better yet, she could use this Man in the Suit as a way to learn about Nightman's Gift by proxy! All they had to do was defeat him... quickly.

Chinami's first act was to slap the wall she'd landed near with one of her Spirit's hands, altering the room, as magical runes of an alternate possibility blossomed within the walls. Incoming Alternate Existence Warding. With that, Nightman should be barred from ambushing them for a bit, while still allowing she and her allies to flee when the time came. From this point forward, the battle was joined, and the Man in the Suit would not be receiving aid... not without fleeing. Luckily, he didn't seem keen to.

Using her Spirit to enhance her perceptions and give herself extra time to think, Chinami squinted at the Man in the Suit, directing her Gift Analysis at him, only to recieve... almost nothing... a familiar amount of almost nothing, in fact. Was it possible that Nightman hadn't actually thrown up scrying wards and was merely drawing from his ally's Gift before? The only thing she was able to glean, as with the last time, was a name:

Shroudcaller. Pretty on the nose, to be honest. She could only speculate what it did at this point... but she might be able to get around his defenses by being indirect.

Upon herself, she immediately bestowed Mystic Analysis and chanced a glimpse at the streak of b l a c k n e s s left on the floor. It- It was... deep and almost... hungry, a veritable hole in reality that would swallow anything that touched it for longer than a brief moment. At this angle and under such duress, she could only speculate further than that. She got a sense of more from it, but she couldn't say if the b l a c k n e s s led to an empty void, a pocket dimension, outright annihilation or the fucking nothingness of space, not without a closer look... one she was far from eager to get.

All she could do at this point was bark out urgently, "The Darkness is hungry! Do not let it touch you!" Enveloping herself in her Spirit and praying that would protect her in the worst-case scenario, she added, "His Gift is named Shroudcaller! Can't tell what it does exactly, but, Blondie, that sounds like your scene! I'll do my best to support you!" And, indeed, it was... or so she hoped. Her priority would have to be keeping the brunet alive. Of the three of them, he was the most defenseless, and he was the only reason Blondie could fight at what she could guess -based on her own experience- was full power. With that in mind, Chinami began to move to place herself between the brunet and the Man in the Suit.

She didn't know if his darkness possessed the spiritual element required to break through her defenses, but if it could... she stood a much better chance of surviving it than the other guy.

@KillamriX88 @Letter Bee @Dezuel
Wilhelmina right now:


Camelot right now:

LMFAO!
Basically! XD
Quality mems all around.

Camelot


Bonnie's words... did not inspire confidence within Camelot. Not the tone, nor the flickers of her eyes towards the others. But, even so, the armored girl shook her head lightly and replied, "No, it's fine. Seriously, I'm the one that needs to be apologizing. I know this isn't the best time or place perhaps, but..." Camelot, for her part, felt the beginnings of a dull headache starting up, the kind of toasted out feeling of when you overworked your brain. Being called "leader" by the girl she'd hurt -if not physically- then clearly emotionally made her gut curdle uncomfortably. A flush of embarrassment struggled to reach her face, even as she restrained a grimace. "Don't... call me 'leader'. I've done nothing to earn your loyalty. This was dropped on all of us unexpectedly." The tremulous fake strained smile on Bonnie's face felt almost like a gut punch to Camelot. The rejection, the bold-faced lie, hurt a lot more than she'd expected it might, and to be honest, she was a bit miffed. Even if it stung more in the immediate, she'd have rather been told "no" to her face instead of fed falsities.

Which wasn't fair of her. How could it be? After all, if she were responsible for Bonnie's situation, then she had no right to get upset over a single rejection. Really, more than anything else, this proved to her that Bonnie was someone of remarkable strength in that area, but... no-one was an island. And if Bonnie was cracking under that pressure now, then frankly, Camelot almost felt it was her duty as someone with any level of basic human decency to help. Camelot didn't really know a lot about actually making friends, about making the first move in that respect, but she could learn... probably. She'd just have to prove herself genuine going forward and-

A rough, strangely-fluffy impact solidly rammed her away from Bonnie, and Camelot would admit, she was completely caught off-guard. She'd been so wrapped up in her thoughts, so focused on Bonnie that she'd not even considered the idea she'd be attacked, even harmlessly, not with Ozma right there. Stumbling away, Camelot caught herself, boots sloshing in the puddles underfoot. The impact hadn't hurt that much to be honest, but she'd not been braced for it in the slightest and was more shaken by the shock then anything. Even so, what pain there was seemed to be fading away under the Scabbard's ministrations... if at an oddly slower pace than normal. Shaking her head, Camelot's brow furrowed, as she straightened up. Squeezing her blue eyes closed for a moment, she grimaced at the throb behind them.

Why wasn't her Scabbard healing that away?

Dismissing the issue for the moment, Camelot couldn't help raising a single hand to rub circles on the side of her temple, as the other steadied her against the alley wall she'd been thrust towards. She glanced back towards Bonnie, where Burning Heart was... taking her place and was confirming what Camelot already knew, but it didn't sting less to know she was being lied to. A curdle of indignation dug sharply into her chest, and she sucked in a calming breath to dispel the abrupt spike of anger, fuming internally at the other girl's intervention.

How dare she interrupt! She was about to-! To...

What exactly? Fix things? How?

All she'd done was continuously make things worse somehow. In her own way, clearly, she was no better than Tesni. But where Tesni's fuck-ups seemed deliberate -even calculated, hers were from ignorance and failure, which, honestly, she felt was worse in some ways. Failure to control her temper, to stay herself from striking at her own fucking allies. Failure to read the damn room, to understand her fellows emotionally. Failure to be the leader she was supposed to be, to take command calmly and rationally. Failure to be a good example to her junior. Failure to prove herself in front of her seniors. Failure to do the right thing.

"Your report card came in today... Oh? Nothing to say? Talent? Lack of talent is no excuse. You're just not trying hard enough."

"And what if I didn't want to do any of that...? What if I liked fighting? It may not be the most lucrative thing, but it's... what I love."

"I didn't come to America to raise a failure. Do better... unless you'd like to no longer be taking those lessons?"

"I... just want to do what I'll love."

"Well, real life doesn't care."


As much as she was loathe to admit it, this was all she had, being a Magical Girl, saving people, being a Hero. And yet, what kind of hero was she if she couldn't be anything but a lone wolf, when everything broke down around her the moment she tried to reach out to others. Why was it that she did so much better carrying the load of her responsibilities alone, and yet, just this single addition was enough to tip the scale? Just this much more was enough to put cracks in her? Could she be that much of a brittle failure? This was the one thing she was good at, the one thing she could really do to make something of herself in life, and yet, she was failing at even this? And so explosively?

Failure. Failure. Failure!

There was an almost tangible pop in her chest, and Camelot found the hand rubbing her head shooting to her breastplate in a futile gesture, one that seemed to go relatively unnoticed given her position behind Burning Heart with said fox-girl blocking Bonnie's vision. A sharp, searing heat burned into Camelot from within, like molten metal being poured into a mold. It felt almost like her stomach had been lit on fire, and yet, somehow, the heat managed to be blunted enough to not make her shout in agony, merely clenching her jaw and biting back other noises. It was an almost intellectual awareness she had, that her body was suddenly inexorably burning up. A bead of sweat flowed down her forehead. She knew it was such and not rain from the way it briefly stung her left eye. Her muscles were aching and burning, as though she had just finished the most hard, driving workout of her life and managed to exercise every single muscle equally. And that burn... Camelot could only compare it to as if her body was being burned away, only to be healed by her Scabbard as fast as it could do so, barely keeping up.

Camelot's breath hissed out once more as actual steam, but this time, she could not deny it, could not simply write off the incident as the air being extra chilly. Something was off inside her, and her now full headache throbbed against her skull. She felt... felt sick, like she was running a severe fever. The heat inside her was almost unbearable, and if not for cool retaliation of her Scabbard, she might have considered reverting her transformation entirely. After all, she had no way to know if that feeling would abate in her far more vulnerable form. Was this something Burning Heart had done when she touched her? She couldn't say, but a small part of her found the idea of the fox-girl having a name so literal genuinely amusing.

It would have been more amusing if she wasn't cooking in her own armor.

Her breath, her every exhale, was coming out as steam now, misty at first, but thickening in time with the internal heat intensifying. To her enhanced ears, a rising chorus of hisses could be heard, as she spotted raindrops evaporating on contact with her armor. It was only the combination of the chilled rain and her Scabbard taking the bite off that let Camelot retain most of her composure, as she forced herself to straighten up, her fists clenched tightly to vent some of the pain-induced tension in her body.

"O-" Snapping back her voice, Camelot inhaled deeply, exhaling a thicker -if equally short lived- cloud of steam. "Okay." Somehow, she managed to conceal the legitimate physical pain she was in, as she spoke. "We're not good, but we're not at each-others' throats... I... Those Pageless before that fled? We should- We need to eliminate them, now that Tsubasa isn't around to pacify them." There was nothing else to say, as she beckoned them all to follow her lead here. Even if the presence of the Apex Pageless was still muddying the waters a bit, she could still roughly sense some deeper points of darkness nearby. She might have defended them before, but those were exceptional circumstances. In the here and now, she had her duty to fall back on. So long as Tsubasa wasn't about, the Pageless were a threat to those under her Aegis, and she would deal with them appropriately...

But with this searing heat...? She just hoped she didn't collapse before they made it back to the Academy.

Unbeknownst at first to the knight, the heat was by no means merely internal. And though it was only a strange warmth now that currently reached any within close proximity to her, that simple warmth was still growing with little restraint and would become uncomfortable and nearly outright sweltering in the course of the coming patrol, enough so that she'd find herself -more oft than not- putting physical distance between herself and the others so as not to bother them.
I'd also be interested in joining, if there's still room.

And I know that technically the Wards team has already been chosen, but I might have an idea or two around it.

Speaking of which, what's your stance on a PC that's older and more experienced?

Or for a recently captured delinquent given an option to turn life around.

Several things.

1): Yes, there's still room. Mintz likes to do very large groups.

2): The Wards team is not completely finalized or anything. I'm guessing the GM will just edit the list the Director is looking at to include any new additions, or they can just leave it as is. The wording of that scene can also be taken to mean the Director is too mentally exhausted to want to read all the way through the list.

3): Generally speaking, he only wants Wards-age people. There's one exception that is still in the Wards for very particular reasons, and there's one Vigilante that isn't a Ward (who is only under consideration and might not ever be actually accepted). It's not recommended to go for older. This is supposed to be a Wards-centered RP. So, in terms of "older", realize that the cap is still basically Wards age. Also realize that you aren't exactly going to be able to play some "senior/more experienced" type so easily in a group comprised at least halfway of 17 year-olds. (the age scale for the group is vastly tilted to the older end of things)
  • Schrodinger: 18
  • Overclock: 17
  • Workshop: 17
  • Scraprig: 17
  • Gress: 17
  • Memento: 16
  • Grey Man: 15
  • Hope: 14
  • V: 13

In terms of "experienced", that's less of an issue. You can have them be as experienced and hardened as you want, so long as they still end up in the Wards for some reason. We have characters that have been active as long as 2-5 years before the present.
This AU has this being the very first generation of the Wards initiative, so you have plenty of breathing room for having a character that was left to their own devices for the most part before now.

4): "Recently captured delinquent" at least partially describes multiple of the current characters, and for at least one of them, it's completely nose-on. So, yeah, you could totally do this without issue.

Chinami Nadakai


Even as her relocation began, and the familiar feeling of being in two places at once briefly flickered through her, Chinami couldn’t help grimacing. Nightman had clearly caught on and thrown up his own scrying protection at the last moment, and that was… a lot of Gifts. If she’d had only her mere suspicions before, now she was absolutely certain. She couldn’t beat him alone. Given what she knew, however, that meant at least two of those powers belonged to the trapped boys. She hadn’t been able to glean much, but even a surface level glimpse of the basics of several was enough to birth a tentative spark of optimism within her.

In addition, she could be almost certain that two of the Gifts came from Nightman’s secretary and the man in the suit. If she could target and eliminate them, or even just get the chance to fiddle around with their Gifts, she could hopefully cut off a portion of Nightman’s power. If not, at the least, perhaps, she might learn more about his Gift by proxy.

If her own experience was any clue, the boys’ own gifts would be weakened to at least half their rightful strength. She’d unfortunately likely need to enhance them as well to get them in fighting shape. That was the only thing she could conclude, as her transportation resolved, depositing her well away from Nightman… for the time being anyway. She only prayed she could use the breathing room wisely.




Her scrying of the boys -though she'd only been half paying attention to it- had revealed to her surprise the two of them in the same room (seemingly the same room Nightman had taken the brunet to start with) already, with the blond and brunet both awake and fine, which was...

What?

They must have broken free somehow, her mind concluded. Dr. Nightman's malicious intentions were blatantly clear now. There was no way the two were up and about by his obligement. That was good news overall; it meant his stolen Psionic Bridge Gift wasn't as strong as she'd first feared. Still formidable, nonetheless, but less daunting now. Meanwhile, both boys seemed to be visually on-edge somewhat. Or, at least, the blond did. So, as much as she wanted to wordlessly jump in, snag them, and jump out, she knew that would likely be the furthest thing to conductive to positive relations. Even so, she needed to be quick about this.

That affirmed, Chinami chose to target the corner of the room as her destination, making sure she was well in sight of both boys on her appearance and -hopefully- less liable to startle them into going full "Gifts blazing" on her. When she appeared, she was certain she looked a bit... out of sorts, ruffled from the brief yet terrifying conflict, lingering sweat on her brow, and body trembling from adrenaline and terror. That aside, she shook her head and addressed them both in a hushed whisper, "No time to explain. Quickly, take my hands!" She prepared to imbue both of them with the same anti-scrying alterations as herself. First and foremost, she needed to take away Nightman's ability to hunt them down from anywhere. They needed breathing room, time for her to analyze what was wrong with them and try to undo it. And every second they weren't shielded like her was another second Nightman had to think up the proper use of her stolen Gift.

@KillamriX88 @Letter Bee @Dezuel
@Riegal
I wouldn't worry about it too much. This is a massive AU, so relying on canon information is next to useless aside from the overarching lore of the setting. That aside, you'll find just about everything you need to know about the basics of the AU in the first OOC. Basically, just treat this RP almost like you're reading Worm for the first time, a brand new tale. It's got different faces and names for nearly every aspect of the setting. We also do a ton of chatting on Discord about the exact specifics of things, both how they are the same and how they've changed.

Sean Evens/Overclock


Date/Time: November 11th, 2022. 5:44 PM.

Location(s): City of Redline Patrol

Stage 3 Escalation Energy Pool: 3 hours, 0 minutes, 0 seconds




"Do you need a ride?"

The door closing behind him was the only answer, as Sean stepped out onto the front porch of his home. A small kernel of guilt wormed its way into his gut, but he shoved it aside. They... hadn't been speaking for the past few weeks, not since she betrayed his trust, helped the PRT ignore his rights, his liberties, helped them conscript him. On the one hand, he knew she meant well... to a degree, but he wasn't going to easily forgive her for that, not for a long long time. He was angry, justifiably so, but he wasn't about to take it out on her outright. He wasn't that kind of asshole, so damning silence would have to do.

Sighing at the biting 33 degree chill, Sean's body warmed up, the familiar vibrating rumble suffusing his body chopping that chill in half. It was a common misconception that he was a Brute, an easily made one. And on a technical level, in terms of classifications and what kind of threat he might present, that was still true. However, his power, at its core, was nothing more or less than a highly flexible Breaker power, a power that allowed him to interact with the more tangible aspects of physics in a variety of ways.

The strength and durability were more side effects of the portions of his power required to keep him from being torn apart every time he so much as took a single step. Because of that, his durability was not so much direct physical defense as it was "dividing the effect of harmful forces levied against him". Like extreme temperatures, for example. Or, at least, that's how it seemed to work as far as he could tell.

Pulling up the furred hood of his jacket over his head, less for defense and more for disguise, Sean stepped around into the backyard gate of his house. Entering, he shoved his hands in his pockets and... loitered, standing still, as the energy in his body became yet more suffusive.

23 seconds have passed.

This whole scenario was a nightmare for him. Unlike what they might assume, he had a life outside heroics, a plan. Between school, martial arts and work, he really didn't have the kind of free time that they expected of him. Unfortunately, on the work front, he'd basically been forced to quit. There was no way he was going to be able to hold down a job properly while also being a government attack dog... At least the latter paid okay. And he really hated that he had to factor money into this matter. Being a hero shouldn't be just another paycheck, shouldn't be about greed. It wasn't that he particularly abhorred the idea of being rewarded for his efforts, but reducing the noble profession down to just another government institution, another series of letters in the ever growing and all too easily corrupted alphabet soup?

Unacceptable.

His Breaker state had risen another Stage. One more...

Even so, a Hero -a real one- shouldn't be someone who fought for money. Money was fine, but that should never be the goal. It was about the mission, about actually saving people in all the ways that matter and making the world a better place. It wasn't about defeating the villains or showing off; those things were simply par for the course. A real Hero could do so much more, fire-fighting, disaster relief and even just common human acts of decency. At the end of the day, heroism was about saving everyone, not just punching assholes in the face. A real Hero inspired hope in society, encouraged good people to stay on the straight and narrow, and made those that preyed upon them regret being villains at all.

The PRT was just another government entity. It didn't matter who the Director was or how apologetic he may or might not be. At the end of things, he answered to uncaring and far less accountable individuals. Being a government-sponsored hero was a death-trap of morality. Maybe basing that kind of opinion off of comic books was fallacious, but considering how consistent that narrative ran? Clearly, there was an understanding of human nature there that many would like to pretend didn't exist. Government heroes, if they allowed themselves to be dragged into the Big Man's momentum, allowed themselves to choose orders over the right thing, choose looking good for the cameras over actually putting a stop to the threats to the people? The red tape of oversight was a death sentence to heroic ambition and integrity.

But Sean refused to allow himself to be yoked... not the way they would like.

It was time to make a point.

As his internal timer ticked past 4 minutes and 40 seconds, Stage 5 spun up, and time almost seemed to come to a halt.

He'd certainly used it before, on many an occasion even, but the drain on his internal energy stores to maintain this level of power was... significant, enough to run his tank dry in a mere 3 minutes, which he thought was, to be honest, all too little for the sort of things that would normally require it. Oh, and that was only assuming he'd not already spent some energy elsewhere. Therefore, he'd only used it in quick bursts, which were usually more than enough to handle even the obstacles Redline could present, villainous in nature or otherwise.

Regardless, he'd never actually used this Stage before on the scale he was about to, and not just because using it this way was generally massively inefficient. For one thing, it would have possibly attracted attention from some very unfortunate sorts. (Un)fortunately, one of the most annoying of said sorts was already in the know, and now that they knew about him and were ostensibly allies, even if reluctant ones... Well, he could finally cut loose a bit and show them what he could really do, a good deed, expression of defiance and low-key implied statement that he was entirely without need of their supposed "safe training program" all in one. No, it would be clear that the only thing they were doing was holding him back.

He idly double-checked his reserves: still full, as he'd been standing still the whole while. He had no idea what kind of bullshit he might have to put up with at the PRT, nor how much time he was going to be stuck there going through legalese nonsense and interacting with a bunch of other Parahuman kids, which promised to be... less than fun. Regardless, it was never a good idea to run himself dry. Having enough left to bring his best to the table in the case of an emergency was only prudent.

"So, a minute or two, then? Minute and a half?" he idly mused aloud. Actually, he might have been high-balling it. Redline was located in the State of Massachusetts, which was only 190 miles long at its absolute widest point. At this level of escalation? Sean could move about 100 miles a second if he was jogging and going slow enough to really meaningfully interact with the world. 186 miles per second if he was all-out sprinting his fastest. One piddly little city, like Redline?

Absolute child's play.

Sean Moved. Or rather, "moving" almost couldn't quite describe it. Overclock, the hero, had been an active presence in the seaside city of Redline for two years now, but never before had he put on such a distinctive show, a display that practically screamed to the citizenry "I am here, watching over you". For that brief minute and a half, his speed well eclipsed that of lightning, trailing in his wake in a constantly-refreshing nigh-omnipresent crisscross of tesla coils, azure lightning whirling behind him to lick upon every surface harmlessly aside from a distant hair-raising feeling of not-static. Indeed, though the lightning existed visually, it did not rend the city asunder thanks to being as misaligned with normal physics as Sean himself, as Overclock tore across the rooftops and all throughout the streets and alleyways of Redline.

8 car crashes averted. 14 wrecks attended to and victims safely extracted. 23 purse snatchers zip-tied. 78 attempted murders averted and criminals restrained. Medical aid applied to 179 victims of crime or mere accident given first aid. Serious cases moved to a hospital. 4 regular fires put out and victims safely evacuated. 3 arsons put out and perpetrators mostly in custody. 37 rapes averted and perpetrators restrained for law enforcement. 25 robberies foiled. 13 cases of domestic abuse handled and victim brought to police. 6 hate crimes shut down. 7 cats saved from trees. 911 phone calls set to ringing for all relevant cases, and "Friendly Neighborhood Overclock" calling cards distributed where needed. And a fair few other incidents of which there were, frankly, too many to name.

Honestly, he was rather proud of those cards. They were shitty and cheaply printed, but the little cards had instructions on the back about calling 911 and making sure to give a witness statement to make certain the criminals that went after them got put away for a good long while. Normally, Sean would only hand them out when he was in too much of a hurry to remain and give the police his own statement as well. On that note, he was... really going to need to restock both his cards and zip-ties after this.

And all of that occurred within the first several seconds.

Some things required he slow down. Helping lost children. Foiling several suicides and taking a moment to talk them down while remanding them safely to someone who could help. Pumping the water out of someone's lungs and/or performing CPR. There were just some things that even insane speed couldn't hurry along. If it needed actual delicate handling, required calming words and a personal smile, he obliged as best he was able, and every single time, he shoved down that annoying part of him that complained that the moments he spent speaking were dozens of other people not being saved. He was a Hero, a real one... or at least, he liked to think so. So, he could never allow himself to be wrapped up in obsessing over things like numbers and weighing lives. Instead, it was better to save everyone in front of him, one at a time, as they came. No complicating things, just doing good deeds.

And so, for a minute and a half, the city of Redline was intermittedly illuminated in mass by thunderous trails of crackling azure light, and to say the least, it was a bad day to be an active criminal...




Date/Time: November 11th, 2022. 5:50 PM.

Location(s): Redline PRT Headquarters

Stage 3 Escalation Energy Pool: 1 hour, 30 minutes, 0 seconds




Overclock touched down atop a building a block away from the PRT's base of operations still crackling, as his power began to wind down. Rolling his shoulders, Sean stepped off the roof into an alley, idly observing the descent in slow motion, before touching down with barely a bend of the knees, his power reduced to Stage 3. The lightning no longer flowed around him, as he sighed and released down to Stage 1, grunting in satisfaction at the feeling of energy beginning to trickle back into his reserves. The initial boost didn't take a lot out of him, enough so that he could maintain it and still recharge. Though, were he not to use his power at all, his pool tended to recover at a 1:1 rate, and the tank would be brimming again within 3 hours at most. Given the fact that using his power at all chopped that in half, it would still take 3 hours... just to recover the half he'd blown off for his stress relief do-gooding.

Stepping out of the alley with his furred hood still pulled up against the -to him- mild chill, Sean shoved his hands in his jacket's pockets and began the short walk to the PRT HQ proper. As he approached, Sean couldn't help grimacing at the structure, an ugly menacing thing, more like a prison in appearance. His brain whispered quietly that it might as well be -and actually, technically partially literally was, but he shook the thought off... if with some difficulty. Sean snorted at the irony of being miffed about the PRT's outward PR, but then again, he would be one to talk with his friendly persona and active interaction with the citizenry. Rather, Sean actually considered PR to be a good thing, vital in some ways even. Giving the people hope, giving them beacons to look up to? That mattered. It was simply that one should never choose something as ultimately banal as PR over actually saving lives. Appearances could rot if the alternative was more victims being made.

Striding casually up to the front doors of the building, Sean stepped inside the lobby with a neutral expression plastered on, taking in the sight of couches and various portraits of the Guardians staring into his soul, while a few PRT officers lingered here and there. Grunting, he concealed his hesitation and strode up to the front desk, rolling his jaw, as he mustered up to the forefront of his memory the absurd -but objectively effective- passcode. Before the receptionist could speak, he deadpanned, "I have a message from an angry swarm of BEES which says that Risen won't see his coffee mug again unless the only restored baseball cap in the world is delivered to my roof by lunchtime."

With little to no fanfare, an Officer was beckoned over to escort Sean to the elevator. While the descent to what was, apparently, below prison level got a raised eyebrow, the brunet refrained from offering commentary. He held his peace all the way to the blank wall and offered only an appreciative hum of approval at the hidden retinal scanner. At the very least, it seemed like they were taking this seriously, even -or perhaps, especially- as a first-time venture. His eyebrows raised even more at the second elevator behind that. One part of him appreciated the fact that even he would likely have a spot of annoyance breaking in or out of here. Honestly, the only gripe he might have is how much a blackout or EMP attack could be a problem for elevators.

He kind of hoped there was a backup escape route...

The second elevator opened directly into, instead of a hallway, an apparent common room, which Sean entered without hesitation. The area was pretty sparse, almost spartan even, containing mostly just boring walls, terminals and screens. There was a table and some rather comfortable-looking chairs, two of which were occupied, one by the Director, himself, and one by...

Fuck! Workshop!

"Ah, Workshop... Long time, no see." His eyes drifted down to her fiddling hands... and the sphere.

FUCK! She's Tinkering!

To be honest, the rather trashy, scarred girl didn't even rate half as much concern past that point, even with the Mad-Max-looking cybernetic arm. Sean barely managed to conceal his, well... "trepidation" might be an understatement, as he carefully located and took the furthest seat from the unpredictable Tinker, moving slowly and clearly to not startle the suntanned girl. Even when he turned his head to address the Director, he couldn't stop himself from watching the southern gal out of the corner of his eyes. "Well, I'm here," he said with about half-again as much enthusiasm as he felt... which was honestly not much. Still, he threw out a little wry grin anyway.

It was a little hard to muster up the mental energy to put an act on, when so much of his brainpower was now devoted to keeping an eye out for even the slightest spark of trouble from Workshop. To be frank, he was halfway considering ramping up his power again, just in case. It was only the fact that he'd been running it at full throttle when they first met that had saved both of them and far too many potential collateral casualties. Their first meeting was the stuff of infamy in Redline... and was also the reason there was now a massive area of frozen time acting as a tourist attraction...

And on that lovely train of thought-!

Sean idly scooted his -admittedly comfortable- chair a bit sideways, giving himself as much room as possible to book it in the case of an... "incident".
@yoshua171
Lol, I was, indeed. As you can see, it never panned out unfortunately, so my character for this is speed focused instead like the RHTV one was.
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