Lewascan2

Royal Rumble: Rumble over the Heavens

3.5 deities and demigods. That book is real good. I would honestly need to see the crafter in order to decide. Lol as for the height I'm 6'4 and my little brother is like 6'7. Younger brother* in terms of dnd I can understand the entity. Something that consumes the divine or godly essence. Without it the gods shrivel and die. Godly boons, blessings, or cruses could be seen as something else to the entity. Or something the same. Assuming it attacks the schools.

Don't forget you can make a character that shoots 20 or so arrows in 3.5. Furthermore, with the correct help each arrow can be VORPAL. Additionally, with the correct feats one can shoot as far as they can see. No negs. See that speck on the mountain? Hit it! With a 13-20 crit range as well. Things were crazy. Unbalanced and could be fun. Anyways. We are like 2 hours from my home.

@Aqutanama

Pretty sure it's not exactly like that. Given that I'm only a player, not one of the GMs, I don't know a whole lot about the Great Evil quite yet this early on in things, but humans resisting it generally has nothing to do with the nature of their blessings (although some surely have blessings that stack with their natural resistance). Humans are basically "just built different". Even without a blessing, to my knowledge, any regular human will be far less innately harmed by the Great Evil compared to a God or Devil. And on that note, it isn't that the Great Evil seems to be specifically Anti-Divine so much as it's some manner of "Anti-Mystical". Otherwise, Demons/Devils likely wouldn't also be as badly affected as a God.

As stated, humans are basically "just built different". They're the now absent Overgod's magnum opus or something and the one reliable weapon the Gods can point at the Great Evil any time part of it resurfaces.

Royal Rumble: Rumble over the Heavens

Mainly I just wanted to play as myself but have specialized abilities. As far as the time line. I was confused because of the schools. They reminded me of guild's and the names also compounded my mind. That and the Coliseum in the picture and Gods. It just all made me think of high power fantasy.

It probably didn't help that I have been tired. Traveling with the family.

My character isn't 6'6 yet. As I have no knowledge of the world's gods and what I can and cannot do limits my creation. But this is why I asked for feedback so thank you both. I would have to revisit my character once I get home. Unfortunately, that isn't going to be for a while.

@Aqutanama

Well, on the whole coliseum/school thing, it's more like a long-running tradition of combat. This is a world where the Gods are still highly active even in the modern day. They are well known, spoken to and extremely involved in the fate of the world, choosing and empowering champions to fight in their stead. This is largely because of an eldritch entity known only as the Great Evil, which still has remnants here and there even centuries after its destruction. This is relevant because humans naturally have a resistance to the Great Evil's power, while entirely mystical beings like Gods and demons are extremely vulnerable, despite their power. The Great Evil is able to overpower and dissolve/consume them like sugar in water, so the Gods prefer to have human champions combat it in their stead.

Also, Gods in this setting are more like embodiments of fundamental concepts of reality, and even a single one of their deaths could potentially destroy everything even vaguely associated with that concept unless another God can pick up the slack with their own domain, much like what happened with the death of the God of Magic in the D&D 3.5e lore. Which is to say that the Gods really can't take even the slightest risk that one of them might die, especially because (with the disappearance of the Overdiety) they can no longer create humans if the human race should go extinct. They have tried and failed for centuries, and some of their failures have gone on to become demons/devils, for example. And it takes the combined domains of all gods working together to create a human from nothing, something that is currently unviable due to lack of knowledge and sufficient cooperation.

As Killa said, don't worry about the height thing so much. In hindsight, my perspective is skewed due to my family being a bit on the shorter side of average, so the height really isn't a problem.

Anyway, yeah, on Killa's final note, some of the characters in this RP are sort of assholes or a gradient thereof IC (Vera, Suzakura, Chinami and Darla, to name a few), while their players are perfectly chill OOC. So, you know, not going to shoot down the idea if you're set of it, but playing a character without even the thin veneer of it not being an SI could run the risk of things accidentally getting personal. Which is to say, feel free to go that route no problems. Just keep in mind to keep separation between IC and OOC.

Royal Rumble: Rumble over the Heavens

Please take a look at what I have so far. If this is something that isn't accepted then I can try for another character. Either that or change this one up. Writing at 2am not so good.

If the above seems aggressive I can't use words at night. Sorry.

WIP

Name: Valathos
NN: Val
Names he was called by the faction his mother was with: Hey You, Little Boy, Smelly Boy, Dum dum
Sex: Male
Age: 13
Height: 5’9”
Max Height 6’6” (When he is older)
Weight: 90 lbs
Max Weight: 250 lbs
Hair Style: Long hair down past his waist
Hair color: Brown
Right Eye Color: Brown
Left Eye Color: Blue (Covered by an eyepatch)

Child Genius
Grade: 1st year

Biography:
Some say that great power has a great cost. Either that or one trains in order to gain said power. Val lost his world. Some would probably think that being reborn in another world would be great. However, that was not the case for Val. He was in his midlife and had a family that loved him. Fate, coincidence, bad luck, bad timing. These were all things that people would blame. He was happy with his family. However, his happiness wasn’t something that could be kept. Something had to go wrong to get to where he is now.

His death was abrupt. He was out shopping for his family when he fell over. Blacked out. When he woke up he was in the arms of his new family, his mother and a wet nurse. in a different world. It wasn’t like he didn’t know the troupe. Isekai, traveler, summoned, regressor, taken, punished, and so on. He knew enough that when he was a baby he spent his time learning the language as well as anything else he could. Speaking the language was a lot harder than the written and writing. It is possible it was because he already knew two other languages from his original life. That isn’t to say that the language was hard to learn, just harder than the reading and written versions of the language.

The village Val grew up in was too small for him. His mother was a traveling mercenary and never home. That isn’t to say that she didn’t spend time with him. However, he did get lonely while growing up. She would bring him anything that he wanted. For Val, he wanted books and information first. After that he wanted craftsman tools and a shop. His mother spent money, and pulled some favors from friends, in order to set up an official shop within the small town. While there weren’t many people that visited the Guild of Adventurers would frequent the town just to see the young boy. They would tell him stories of the world and about the main cities and towns.

It didn’t take him long to invent a few things from his original world. These things would make normal life a little easier, efficient. Tools, foundations, recipes, and so on. However, he kept most of these a secret from the outside world. While it was usually hard to recall this information in his previous world it was as if he had full access to everything he had seen, heard, or experienced. This isn’t to say that he could recall every exact detail of a memory. He just had raw information from said memories. Everything was easier to learn because he had foundations on just about every crafting subject.

Martial and military training started when he was able to run. Every day he would run until he couldn’t. To say that energy is wasted on the young was incorrect. It was more like the energy they used was in a smaller package. That and they were still growing, so healing was a bit faster. To not damage himself he made sure not to overdo it. Stretching was part of his mid day regiment. Martial Katas were part of the night time activities. Every other day he would do some weight training. However, to not cause strange growth he didn’t do it too much. Endurance, strength, dexterity, agility, wisdom, intelligence, and charisma. He tried to focus on these things and found ways to enhance each through each craft.

Otherworldly knowledge could lead to bad situations. Therefore, he kept most of his inventions to himself. He had several books full of inventions and technology paths. Most of the things he wanted to make would most likely scare people. However, it was nice to know that most of these thoughts were solid within his mind. It was almost as if he had another realm within his mind he could step into. While his imagination was powerful, almost nothing was close enough to the real thing. This is why he wrote down most of his concepts.

He was usually quiet and chose to watch people and their reactions. The flow of life. This could be because he was introverted in his previous life or that he just didn’t have anything to add at the time. However, no one really knew why it was. There were points when he would talk about crafts and get excited, showing his age. His usually dull bored looking expression changed to one of a child who was passionate about a subject.

All of this led to people calling him paragon, prodigy, gifted, genius, and so on. Most of these people were the adventurers from the Guild his parents were part of. He was not one to believe in gods or goddesses. However, that didn’t mean that they didn’t see the young man and his accomplishments. Deities were all always doing strange things throughout the years. It was a surprise to him when he received blessings and boons from the deities.

He was only ten when this occurred and he couldn’t figure out why. He did nothing to gain favor from the gods or pray. He focused on himself in order to get somewhere in this crazy world. That and he never met his father. He was unsure as to who he was. It wasn’t something his mother would ever bring up on her own. It was like pulling teeth to get her to talk about it. Therefore, he would never show his interest. It wasn’t like he didn’t have male figures in his life. The Guild members treated his mother like a mother or sister depending on age. Which was strange because she didn’t seem that old. She was maybe late twenties.

He did bring up wanting to know his family on his mother’s side of the family. However, she was almost as closed off about that as his father. He didn’t know why or what was going on but continued his work and research. His mother spent less and less time at home as she was training new recruits. On his twelfth birthday he asked to join in with the new recruits. His mother seemed put off by the concept but gave in after seeing the hope in Val’s eyes. She was aghast when she saw how advanced her son was. Others praised her for raising him well. Her response made it seem like she had nothing to do with it. People just assumed she was being modest.

A year after advanced training, his mother told him about her family and father. She was from a wealthy noble family and her father was a higher up. Someone that should have not been with her. He was a bastard son in his last life as well but he was acknowledged in that life. This one he didn’t know who his father was. She didn’t directly tell him in order to protect him. He grimaced at the thought of someone being so high up that this needed to be done. She handed him two rings from each respective family and informed him of the schools. The thought of going to a school bored him. What could this backwater teach him? Perhaps they could teach him about the gods?

Thus he set off on his adventure with some supplies from his mother and her guildies. (This is where he rode off with a horse drawn carriage full of basic crafting stuff and food. Don't forget the food.)

Powers:
Core Ability: Transcendent Creation
The ability to craft up to Mythic and Divine items. Does require specific materials in order to do so. Furthermore, this ability allows him to know how to craft everything from his original realm or world.
Blessing from the Gods/Goddesses of Creation and Craft.

Branch Ability:
Field of Space
This ability allows him to create a field around items in order to shrink or grow the items. Furthermore, he can create fields that exist outside normal perception. These fields are harmless but can store items which he can access from anywhere.
This gift was bestowed upon him by the Gods and Goddesses of Trickery.

Branch Ability:
Ocular Analysis
This ability allows him to see the flaws in everything. Furthermore, he can see what materials items are made of and gets an analytic analysis of the item. This includes what was used to make the items, which tools were used, the temperature of the flames, the methods and techniques used, and who made the item.

This gift was bestowed upon him by the Gods and Goddesses of war.

Branch Ability:
Heart of the First Spark
Heart of the First Spark grants him immunity to fire. Furthermore, he can control flames at will. However, he cannot create flames to do harm. His heart fire is the strongest flame in existence. Flames he produces are used for crafting in some way. Furthermore,

Blessing from The Gods and Goddesses of Fire.

People of interest
n/a

@Aqutanama

So, I'm not a GM, but I'm at least semi-familiar with the lore for this setting... ish. I did help throw together the devil/demon part of it, after all. But I digress. So, we do a lot of the lore discussion in the Discord chat, so it's understandable you'd not know. Therefore, I'll lay out a couple things. Feel free to take them with a slight grain of salt and await a chime in from Killa, tinyking or Rofls.

Firstly, I will say that an isekai character should be fine. We have -I'm fairly sure- one confirmed isekai PC, who is literally possibly a variant and/or direct transfer of a character from the original version of this RP before it was rebooted. So, yes, that aspect at least should be fine. Mind you, nothing is directly confirmed yet. That character is being kept mysterious currently (they even have their CS hidden from everyone except the GM), so as I said before: grain of salt. (EDIT: I am told that isekais from Earth are specifically banned while others/original settings are fine, but you'll need to ask about the specifics on how far that goes).

I'd say the first major issue with the backstory is that the world the RP takes place in is actually very scientifically advanced. We're talking full-on cars, computers, internet and cell phones. The works. It's not clear due to the fantasy vibes, but this world is actually quite advanced, despite having many fantasy elements also being highly prevalent, such as magi-tech. Now, granted, it may simply be that it's Rhea that is the most advanced city/nation in the world (which is where the RP currently takes place), so there could be some nations that are still a bit behind the curve. Regardless, it's highly doubtful that this OC is going to be bringing any "inventions" to the table that would see him classified as some hereto before unseen genius... unless he's been born in some very secluded/isolated place from the rest of the nations before finding his way to Rhea at some point.

However, this is not to say that he couldn't be seen as a prodigy in general. Given his adult mind and the biological learning speed of a child body, it is quite possible with the right planning and resources that he could learn far more things than anyone his age should ever be rightly be capable of. So, while he's certainly not going to be bringing any revolutionary inventions to this world that they likely haven't seen before, he can still easily be a shocking child prodigy and be considered a genius for his achievements. Really, on an objective level, it would be hard not to consider him one in any case.

Not sure if I'd call this an issue so much as a random unexplained factoid, but holy shit. This guy is 13 years old and nearly 6 feet tall?! Damn, the Hulk called. He wants his muscles back. Dude be rolling up looking like he's about to be Hercules from Fate/Stay. In all seriousness, it's not an impossible height or anything I don't think, just extremely unlikely/rare. I can't see many people believing he's actually physically 13 years old when told. There doesn't seem to be any explanation for his monstrous growth/development pace, but there doesn't necessarily have to be either. It's just a bit of a head-scratcher.

Okay, now, the power section is where my advice is going to be extra shaky, but I can say a couple things.

For one: To my knowledge, no-one gets blessed by multiple gods. They just get multiple powers from the same god. Not saying it's impossible, just that no other character in the RP has this type of setup going on. I don't know if anyone has asked about it, so I can't say anything for certain. There have been some exceptions where -instead of a power outright- others have magic weapons or a very significant item that resides in and takes up a power slot (as one of Letter Bee's characters, Ken, does). Honestly, you'll need GM confirmation or denial here.

Also, just in general. The way the powers are structured is that you have one main CORE power, the central power that all your abilities are built around. Then you have 3 SUB-powers, all of which branch off of, enhance, or make use of the main power in some way. Again, this leaning more into the concept/assumption that these powers are likely drawn from a single source/God. Now, this isn't a hard and fast rule, but -if not that- the powers tend to be themed around a specific concept or archetype. Again, this is still seemingly reinforcing that idea that all the powers come from the same place/God and fall under that Authority. Essentially, what you did instead was slap down 4 separate Core powers instead of 1 Core and 3 Sub powers. So, I dunno if I can see that flying through unaccosted by the GM.

However, I can also say pretty much for certain that there is little reason for this guy to have directly attracted the attention of such a huge number of gods. If we're talking about gods that might notice without being told by another, the only ones that matter are the God of Spatial Boundaries/Realm Traversal (who might note the interdimensional intrusion), the God of Stories (a known meddler, who has a bit of an infamous and... storied (heh) history with the RP in the version before the reboot, someone that would likely notice a major change to the "narrative"), and lastly, Gods that deal with souls/reincarnation cycle. Other than that, this guy's entrance really doesn't have any innate ramifications to it that would attract divine attention in mass, and regardless of his status, he's just one guy and not that important in the grand scheme of the universe. The Gods don't require prayer or anything to bestow blessings (although some may require it on an individual basis); they're just looking for Heroes/Champions to serve their interests and/or snuff out the remaining dark embers of the Great Evil that lay scattered throughout the world.

Overall, I think you might be overcomplicating it with the powers. It looks like you really want this guy to be a legendary-smith-type dude down the line, so honestly, I'm pretty sure all but the "Field of Space" power could easily fall under the God of Smithing's domain. Just have that be the singular God that blessed this guy, and you should be good.

That said, if you're really attached to the "multiple gods" thing, feel free to bring it up with supertinyking. Ultimately, he's the final word on the matter of how viable it is.

As a final note:
Since you likely haven't read through the other CSs yet, you should know that we already have a good few "legendary crafter" type characters in the mix (though some of their sheets aren't public yet). So, if you go for the crafter route, you're more likely than not to just end up in an arms race and/or clash with those characters in terms of role in the story. If your heart is set on crafter, then go for it, obviously, but I just wanted to point that out. You said you had some other character ideas and/or changes you could make to this one, so it might be a good idea to start considering them.

Royal Rumble: Rumble over the Heavens

Chinami Nadakai

@KillamriX88 @Letter Bee @Dezuel

For a moment, it seemed like Blondie's gambit had worked...

For an all too painfully hopeful moment.

The Man in the Suit rose with a new fury, and Chinami's Spirit battered away the fresh barrage of debris this time, still maintaining her vigil over the brunette boy behind her. Even so, despite their foe's survival, he was obviously on his last legs... If there was any time to reveal her range and help Blondie to finish this it was no-

OST

A voice being cleared in the doorway drove a frigid spike of dread into her heart. As Nightman spoke, she knew she should be reacting, should be acting... And yet... And yet, she could only watch in a certain level of fascinated horror, as Nightman seemingly turned his own subordinate's powers against him, swallowing the Man in the Suit with his own darkness... reduced to nothing. Somehow... Somehow, she found that, the sudden ruthless betrayal and total annihilation of a man she'd been gearing up to kill moments before... suddenly sparked something like... sympathy(?) within her. Which was... perhaps not so odd. He hadn't violated her the way Nightman had. In the end, he was only a pawn. Her enemy for certain, but merely a tool to be disposed of at Nightman's leisure... probably living in terror equal to hers that this very day would come about...

She barely acknowledged the stomach-turning gruesome manner in which Nightman duplicated himself... but she did manage to bring herself back to the moment upon being directly addressed by the abomination of a man, when his two selves pointed at -no, past- her... at the brunette! Flickering beams of light crossed the distance at a speed even she struggled to manage. Between one blink and the next, they'd crossed past both sides of her, streaking toward-

Chinami's back impacted the brunette's body in a rapid teleport between him and the attacks, as she found herself transported nearly faster than she could consider the course of action. The boy couldn't dodge, so as the beams lanced into her left shoulder and right rib area, she'd braced to-!

Be... entirely unharmed?

Opening her eyes, Chinami shivered away a set of shakes that threatened to rattle her body. That... energy. Blondie's powers... Something about them had her so on edge that... even after analyzing them directly, she'd somehow been under the impression that she should be particularly worried about them... And in the case of the sword, she was still absolutely certain that conclusion was correct. But the light beams had just... splashed against the surface of her Spirit-shielded skin and petered out without so much as a scuff. Honestly, she couldn't say whether that was a result of Nightman's stolen portion simply being weaker or if even Blondie's full power wouldn't have punched through her defenses regardless, but even so...

Chinami felt a hesitant grin begin to form on her face again.

This is more like it. Finally, something in this damned Clinic that can't hurt me.

She still couldn't well afford to leave the brunette's side. While those beams couldn't touch her, he was a completely different story. Chinami had seen what Blondie's version had done to the area, and she had no doubt that even a lesser version would punch through the human body like warm butter.

She was pulled from her musings by Blondie's words, which... came off a might bit dramatic... Or, at least, they would if not for the potential stakes of the situation. Then again, maybe she was just too jaded to humor such... "heroic" talk, but perhaps it was appropriate in this instance. Only-

Blondie abandoned ranged attacks and rapidly encroached towards the Nightman pair, arcing his blade low for an attempted quadruple delimbing.

Shit! He's inside my range!

And if Blondie was in her range, then he was without question within the range of the copy of her powers Nightman had. She'd been hiding her capabilities from her allies as surely as her enemies, and he didn't know-! And worse-! Her eyes darted between the twin Nightmans. There was no way to tell how that power worked yet. Did it make a perfect clone with all his current abilities? Did it split his power in half, or were the powers still at full throttle? It was clear that both clones had Blondie's power... but hers was different. Chinami's power required a soul to use, so unless that clone power split or shared his soul, only one of those bodies should have her ability... the real Nightman.

Scattering paperweights and paper alike across the floor, Chinami's Spirit's hands latched onto the underside of the large desk in front of her and hurled it in a twisting table-flip at the upper bodies of the Nightmans, adding an upper assault to match Blondie's lower attack, a pincer move. And as the desk hurtled forward, she paid careful attention to what happened next, shouting to the boy with the sword, "Watch out when closing in! Don't let his copy of my power so much as touch you!"

Grimoiric Heart

Whelp, it's been far too long in coming (nearly a month, in fact), but the latest Camelot post is up and should have her fully caught up to the present without provoking any timey-whimey nonsense in the in-between.

Grimoiric Heart

Camelot

Luckily, the patrol proceeded without incident. For their part, Camelot, Burning Heart and Lilac Shimmer saw no further action past the initial confrontation with Midnight Tsubasa. In large part, this had everything to do with Camelot merely using her senses to give Dynasty Queen a heading, upon which the martial Magical Girl would proceed to speed off and slaughter anything evil that looked at her funny in that general area. While this didn't do much for the group's team cohesion as a whole, it did allow Camelot to show them her basic patrol routes.

For her part, Camelot, for once, was gladdened to be free of conflict to directly partake in. The searing heat within her was nigh overwhelming, and though it ebbed and flowed at times, she had found that her headache was only getting worse as time went on, even the slightest of jolting movements enough to send spikes of agony through her skull. She could barely manage a light jog, much less a fight.

Dehydration.

At this point, that was her best guess as to the major issue. Above and beyond the flames eating her from within, the steam she was expelling with every breath was clearly loosing her far more water than she could feasibly regain at this time. The only thing keeping her on her feet was her Scabbard's healing. Otherwise, she quite suspected she'd have collapsed... for more than one reason. The rain was absolutely no help. Despite any desire to intake even a single droplet to offset some of her losses, the water around continued to evaporate faster than she could ever hope to imbibe it. Her mouth felt as dry as a desert, and she had resorted to not talking, lest her rasp be apparent. The only solace to be found was that what rain managed to soak into the cloth of her armor took a small -if almost insignificant- bite out of the intensity of the heat.

At some point, Lumiere's team joined them, and listening to casual conversations on the return trip informed Camelot for certain that they had indeed been the ones to handle the Apex Pageless in the clouds. Despite the presence of both Captain Goodhope and Ethereal Rose, Camelot found herself in the awkward position of having to avoid them. The heat inside her was truly oppressive by this point, bathing her surroundings in a swelter akin to a noonday desert. Even were that not the case, her dry throat put a kibosh on any desire to communicate... assuming she could even speak without seething the words out in obvious pain.

---

---

The return to Marrywell brought feelings of mixed relief and apprehension. While the heat within her was bad, she could make a moderately confident assumption that it was an issue with her magic and transformation. So, surely, reverting to normal would undo it, right? If not, she still had Wilhelmina nearby, whose healing magic could save her if her Scabbard wasn't around to do the job, give her enough time to transform again. On the more distant horizon, her need to do something about her team composition was an issue she wasn't looking forward to visiting, especially while effectively disabled.

The group was beginning to split off to handle various matters of personal business, and Camelot couldn't help a small spurt of bitterness brewing inside her at the fact that not a single one of them had seriously inquired after her well being... not even Wilhelmina. From her own team, it was understandable at least. She'd thoroughly burned those bridges as surely as she was being burned from within, but... maybe she was just doing too good a job of internalizing things? Was her discomfort not obvious? Geez, she really was hopeless, trying to stubbornly stay strong while Goodhope and Lumiere were around to heal her?

Shaking her head of those poisonous thoughts, Camelot decided she'd just have to do as she usually had before, and figure this out alone. She barely concealed a stagger, as she moved away from the splintering group and towards the fountain in the Academy's courtyard. Immediately, to her trepidation, the water began to steam and warble, but the girl steeled herself. If the heat persisted, even this would be better than scorching up from the inside. It would be like her body was a blade being quenched, cooled down enough to not melt outright. And if nothing else, the explosion of steam from her little dip would hopefully make sure her state of distress didn't go unnoticed.

Grimacing, Camelot hesitated, biting her lip, before squeezing her eyes shut and reverting her transformation.

Immediately, the sense of relief was just... indescribable. Chinami shuddered with joy at the feeling of finally being pelted by rain properly, the sweltering, scorching air around her quickly being drowned out in the absence of the source of heat. The fountain was still steaming somewhat, but the injection of rainwater was rapidly doing the job of simmering it down, as Chinami leaned over the fountain, awaiting the moment it was cool enough to scoop a handful out of.

For her sheer relief, even now, was being tempered. The heat inside her... was far from gone. Rather, it instead seemed to have been reduced to something approaching tolerable, more akin to being baked by the summer sun instead of being boiled alive. Uncomfortable by far, especially in combination with her throbbing headache, but it was nothing she couldn't handle... for now. Another note of worry was her Grimoire. The second she'd reverted, a sharp feeling had stabbed into her left breast like being poked with a branding iron... a heat that emanated directly from the magical book currently stored within her jacket's inner pocket.

By this point, Chinami had stripped off her jacket in a hurry, the zipper of the pocket far too hot to even think about trying to get the Grimoire out now. By this point, Chinami could be certain that her torment was none of Burning Heart's vengeful doing on behalf of Lilac Shimmer. No, this was her own damned Grimoire! Glaring at the discarded jacket currently sitting on the wide lip of the fountain, Chinami found one hand drifting to her chest to massage the point where the searing book had briefly contacted her, even through multiple layers.

She could still feel the heat thrumming through and breaking down her body, muted and suppressed to some degree... but omnipresent all the same. Her Grimoire was flooding power into her body completely uncontrolled and ignoring all her attempts to stem it. Even now, her breaths still misted, releasing short-lived puffs of steam in the chilled London air. It was like a valve of a highly pressurized pipe of magical power had been broken between her Grimoire and body, and there was no stopping it until it accomplished its purpose. She wasn't even sure what it was trying to do or even if it was safe to stop whatever was happening from properly resolving.

There were... some silver linings to found in all this, however. While her jacket was effectively unwearable for the time being with her searing book trapped within it, Chinami could now fully indulge in the coolness of the rain and leaned back, sitting down on the wide lip of the fountain and facing the sky to allow the chill to permeate her aching head, even lapping up a couple droplets that fell into her half-open mouth. It was the closest she'd felt to relaxed all day, even with the lingering throb in her everything.

The second note of good news was that with the heat brought down to a more manageable level, she finally had the presence of mind to feel at the sensation and try to get some clue as to what was going on, which was when she noticed it. Similarly muted through it was, the cool restorative sensation of her Scabbard was unmistakable. Whatever the hell was going on with her Grimoire, that shattered open pathway to her body so too allowed her Scabbard to attempt to counter the problem, to protect her even whilst outside her transformation.

After thinking about it, honestly, Chinami wasn't even surprised that this was possible. Magical Girls didn't typically age, and they most certainly didn't grow to any state that could visually be defined as "old", even outside their transformed state, which meant that they either maintained some sort of fed connection of power from their Grimoire at all times... or that they were physically transformed upon first obtaining it in such a manner as to never age even without its direct influence. Given the current situation, and her lack of ability to mitigate the inner burn even by experimentally putting distance between herself and her Grimoire, Chinami was inclined to bet on the former.

An explosion rumbling through the school grounds put an end to her relaxation, and with teeth grit, Chinami stumbled to her feet and made her way towards the disturbance. Her gut burning and throat dry, she was in absolutely no shape to fight, but since when had any real hero ever let that stop them? If there was trouble, she was capable of doing something, and that would have to be better than nothing...

Even so, the very thought of transforming again, of the all-encompassing heat put a stop to any plans of immediately doing so. In all reality, the most she could manage was snagging the neck of her discarded jacket and bringing it with her, trying greatly to ignore the uncomfortable heat emanating from it.

---

---

Luckily, the disturbance turned out to not be some manner of terrorist attack, Pageless strike, or -in the most absurd possibilities- a Magical Girl "school shooter" of sorts. Instead, from what she could gather, it was merely a student's spell gone wrong in a training incident. The incident in question had reduced the entire room to rubble, including collapsing the ceiling.

Must have been a hell of a spell, Chinami mused with her eyes half-closed. Without the rain to take the bite out of the heat and the school's artificial lights overhead, her headache was back in business, especially given she'd yet to find an opportunity to intake a significant quantity of water and rehydrate again.

Valeria Weizenbaum... one of the newer teachers on the block (by comparison to some others at Marrywell) but far from a "new" Magical Girl on the whole. Like Lumiere and Ozma, she was an old Magical Girl, one that had roots as far back as the second World War. She was certainly a distinctive figure, what with her cybernetic magical limbs, the sort of things that Chinami could guess would well and truly have kept her from living a normal life in proper society. Something like that was simply too blatant to hide without going to great lengths to conceal. The technology to provide what she had simply didn't exist, so to flaunt it was to attract far more attention than Chinami was sure the Grand Ministry would generally approve of.

She also already had quite the reputation as a fine purveyor of the glorious religion of "MOR DAKKA"... a tendency that most certainly wasn't helped by her ability to actually fix most things. As a result, the concept of "property damage" seemed to be much less of a concern than one might typically expect from a Magical Girl so senior.

On a personal level, Chinami was also far from enthused with Valeria's militaristic teaching methods. She flinched from her position leaning against a wall some distance away from the heart of the incident, when the older girl's arms morphed into canons pointed at the crowd... only to settle down when only harmless fireworks popped out. Listening with half an ear as Valeria made a brief "inspection of the troops" and seemingly found Nessie in particular wanting (which was hardly fair in the face of the girl's complete novice state), Chinami struggled to stem the brief painful burst of increased power from her Grimoire, shaking as she halted the initial stage of her transformation and wound back down, outwardly displaying only a deeper lingering breath of smoke.

Coughing lightly, Chinami grimaced at the ashy taste on her dry tongue, and she had to suppress another surge of coughs from wracking her body reflexively. Mere steam seemed to be not enough for whatever the hell was going on with her any longer. Now that she revisited her internal stirrings, the burning pulse in her stomach was somehow... thicker, as though congealed now. She really did need to get some water in her as soon as possible.

Shaking herself from those considerations, she forced herself to focus on the situation at hand, on the slips of paper that were being handed out to all the members of she and Lumiere's teams, barring the leaders themselves notably. An abrupt summons for a combat training session in Training Ground B with leaders invited to observe from the sidelines. Chinami decided, ultimately, that it would be worth going to said session later that evening... after she'd had a damn nap and about a gallon of water, of course.

Looking around, Chinami could see that, despite the destruction, there had only been a single "casualty" in the whole affair, and they'd been unharmed on the whole, aside from getting pinned down by some rubble. With Charlotte having handled that issue quite handily and Valeria in the process of clearing out the remaining smoke and fires, there was nothing left that she could do here, not as she was.

Chinami wordlessly returned to her dorm.

---

---

A quick trip to the Academy cafeteria on the way back to her room netted her a plethora of water bottles, numbering over a dozen, which she promptly chugged in sequence upon her return, billows of steam and smoke leaving her lips in the aftermath of each, as though molten steel were being quenched within her own stomach. It was more than clear by the state of her strangely dry clothes and jacket that her body was still emitting excessive heat even now, something that gave her the distinct impression sleeping in her bed would quickly become a sweltering sweaty affair, even if she didn't use the covers.

Instead, Chinami settled for a long, bone-deep soak in cold water, occasionally changing out the bathwater when her overheated body inevitably leeched the comfort from it and rendered it a makeshift sauna. With her eyes closed and finally hydrated, she was starting to feel moderately better. It was a half-doze really, since she wasn't quite so tired as to allow herself to fall asleep in such a precarious position and drown. That would be rather embarrassing.

Keeping an occasional half-eye on the digital clock on the sink counter, she stayed that way till the evening bell was nigh to toll, and then, with a sigh of reluctance, she rose to the call of duty once more. If team placement changes actually went through, then it behooved her to get a visual measure of their abilities and potentially demeanors beforehand. She was quite decidedly opposed to being caught off guard so badly again.

---

---

Training Ground B, otherwise known as Valeria's personal stomping grounds, Chinami mused wryly, currently chugging yet another water bottle, before slipping the crumpled plastic junk into a trashcan along with several of its brethren. A fresh cloud of steam and smoke escaped her mouth, but with a sip from a new water bottle, the irritation and urge to cough was washed down. Rather, after her nap, the gusts of steam escaping her throat had been strangely less irritating than before. She wanted to put it down to the water and even just subconsciously tuning the sensation out... but that didn't feel quite right.

It felt like her body was finally on the path to... acclimating.

To what, exactly, she still really couldn't say.

Glancing around the area, strewn with broken glass, dismembered machinery and mechanical fluids, Chinami eventually spied a flash of red up on one of the railed balconies and began to make her way over. Quite uneager to revisit... that feeling in its full intensity any time soon, the Goth was rather disinclined to make a frivolous use of her transformation to leap up and save time. Instead, she stepped off the main battleground and took the flight of stairs like a normal person, lugging a large pack of water bottles with her in one hand. Her other was still occupied with her doffed black jacket, her Grimoire still burning uncomfortably within, leaving the girl in jeans and a dark blue t-shirt.

Reaching the appropriate floor, Chinami briefly hesitated at the sight of Charlotte. Her display from the patrol mere hours ago had been... a complete embarrassment, a horrible showing for someone that was supposed to be acting as an appointed leader. Which wouldn't be a problem if the so-called "All-Seeing Grand Minister" had just avoided saddling me with a team to begin with. I'm clearly not fit for the role, her brain sourly supplied, but Chinami shook it off, wincing at the brief flare-up that abrupt movement provoked from her still dying headache.

Swallowing her apprehension, Chinami strode over, set her water bottles down nearby and plopping her jacket a few meters further from that position. She was in no hurry to have all her water boiled by proximity to her out of control Grimoire. It had already effectively taken her jacket from her for the time being; it would not have her refreshments ruined as well if she had anything to say about it. On that note...

Chinami took a swig from her current opened bottle, exhaling a thick -if short lived- mist of steam and smoke after a moment and stepped up beside Charlotte, leaning against the railing and propping her forearms atop it, the now closed water bottle dangling deceptively lightly by the cap from her fingertips. She just didn't want to hold it directly with her far warmer palms for extended periods and risk melting the plastic or warming up the beverage.

As the students began to filter in down below, she mused aloud, too quietly to be heard from below without particularly enhanced hearing, "Well, that patrol was a complete disaster." And she used the word "patrol" lightly to be honest.

She wanted to ask some stupid question, like "why pick me as a leader?" but didn't, because she felt she already knew the answer. She'd dwelled on it long enough by now to come to the simple conclusion that she was the best of lackluster options. Amongst the eight of them, Lumiere was the only tried and true leader, endowed with a commanding presence, experience and the confidence to demand obedience through sheer charisma. Olivia was too new and naive by half. Nessie was just painfully green, despite her impressive power. Suzuya was too impulsive, too prone to emotional actions... and seemingly at the mercy of her Grimoire's whims. Bonnie was... not okay, not alright in a way that Chinami had never managed to grok to before today... not consciously.

The thought provoked a flare up from the fire inside her and a frustrated smoky spurt of coughs that she quickly washed down with another gulp of water.

Tesni was... fucking Tesni. Chinami just couldn't understand her, the impulsive bipolarness of it all... The sheer unpredictability and violence combined with raw power scared her, and it was likely that amongst other things that robbed Dynasty Queen of the spot, despite having sufficient strength to hold the position. Wilhelmina was... kind, too kind in some ways, naive in some others, too quick to be a follower. She just wasn't someone bred for leadership, despite her socialite talents. She could easily be the "heart of the team", but she didn't have the will to push people around, even when necessary.

Which just left Chinami, the lone wolf who went out of her way to take care of the people under her aegis, who concerned herself with the issues of the Alters and homeless, someone with the raw power, talent and combat experience to be able to actually pass something down to those under her command. She had the strength needed to make sure everyone came home alive and demonstrable altruistic intentions. Just... she had no idea how to actually lead. Her habit of distancing herself from unfavorable situations had crippled her in this respect. She was so used to treating everyone around her as equals, that being granted authority in such a sudden way had left her out of sorts. She had no experience whatsoever with balancing when to be hard and when to be soft, with how to treat others as subordinates, equals and students in equal measure, and with Tesni on her team, any hope she had of managing that was set on fire and thrown in a dumpster. And yet, despite all this, she was forced to suck it up and walk the party line, or rather, hadn't even had much of an opportunity to voice her concerns to begin with... a strangely militaristic position.

She knew more than well enough that if she decided to allow her Grimoire-induced instincts to take charge, leadership would be a breeze. If she allowed herself to lean into the militaristic drives that told her to strike down dissent firmly and even physically if need be, that told her how to bowl over arguments and demand her way or the highway, then she could be just like Lumiere... But no, Chinami rejected that style of leadership. There was plenty good reason why, despite her liking for martial pursuits, the military had never appealed to her in any capacity, even as a joke. She believed in personal freedom, and even if it was unfair, she inherently viewed military structures as tyrannical. She had no desire whatsoever to visit that structure upon others in any form. It made her feel dirty, like an utter hypocrite.

And in a direct display of this disturbingly militaristic structure that she loathed, she'd had no say in her teammates.

Tesni she'd have initially rejected out of hand if given the option. Bonnie she'd have hesitated on, because ultimately she liked a certain "work/life" balance, and her room was her safe quiet space. Having a teammate who she also roomed with... would feel like she was always on the job in some capacity. She'd feel like she always had to be an example, and it would be exhausting. To be honest, the only one she'd have been inclined to possibly choose herself was Suzuya... but those bridges seemed fairly well burned by this point.

But that was rather digressing from her original line of thought, which concluded quite firmly that she was only made a leader for being the least bad option behind Lumiere, a trial by fire, sink or swim... It sounded far too much like Lumiere's preferred teaching methods for Chinami's tastes.

All she wanted was to be part of a team of equals. No leaders. No absolutes. Just good people doing the best thing for each-other, the people and the situation at hand. Was that really too much to ask for? To have that instead of being pointed at by some all-seeing entity from on high and proclaimed as some innate leader despite any evidence to the contrary? Was it so much to ask to not be shackled by her very own "Sword in the Stone" moment? She didn't want to be delegated the damn position. If she was going to lead, she wanted to be chosen by the people she was to lead to begin with.

Glancing at Charlotte, Chinami's expression grew somewhat sullen. "So, if I recall your words correctly..." You completely rejected my entirely reasonable request to have input on team changes, despite that being the entire reason this clusterfuck occurred to begin with? "-already spoke to the Grand Minister I take it?" She took another sip of water to quell the brief flare in her gut and kill the fresh series of coughs before they could be born.

Grimoiric Heart

Just as a heads up for everyone, Izurich will be departing the RP due to IRL reasons.

@TheWendil

Oh damn, finally get the time to come check in and hear that unfortunate news.

Sorry about the radio silence, everyone. Still alive, lol. Working on getting myself caught up with the IC now. I'll see about getting a Camelot post in as soon as possible.

Royal Rumble: Rumble over the Heavens

Chinami Nadakai

@supertinyking @Letter Bee @Dezuel

Were it not for her Spirit's protections, Chinami decided she might be blinking sunspots out of her eyes... perhaps even literally if the words of Blondie had any merit beyond the dramatic, as he summoned forth a ring of light orbs... and a blade to command them. Goosebumps erupted across the Goth's body at the very sight of the thing, the same feeling from when she scried him before now stronger than ever before, as Blondie unleashed beam of eye-searing light at The Man in the Suit, who dove for the cover of his d a r k n e s s.

As the thunderous pillar of light raged on, Chinami finished her movement, now well and truly placed between the brunet boy and hopefully any conventional harm. As the light began to die out, Chinami wet her lips nervously, ready to lunge forward if that had done the job... Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be the case. Though he'd apparently not gotten out of the attack unscathed, despite his defenses, The Man in the Suit wasn't even unconscious... and he seemed understandably peeved if the onslaught of shadowy projectiles was any clue.

Her Spirit's enhanced perceptions running as far as she could push them, Chinami had no trouble watching the barrage of golf-ball-sized orbs approach in slow motion... if a somewhat intimidatingly fast slow motion in the face the sheer quantity of them. Given what she'd measured regarding her Spirit's capabilities, she could estimate that, even with her not being at her best, these projectiles were moving somewhere in the realm of a seventh to an eighth of her Spirit's speed, around 80-90 miles per hour, easily equivalent to above average fastball pitches... and far and away too fast for any regular person to dodge without enhanced senses, especially in such furious, accurate and -most importantly- increasing quantities.

Her Spirit's head briefly left the shielding of her regular speed body to glance back at the brunet boy, who didn't seem to be reacting with any particular alacrity, which meant he likely had no way to evade harm on his own... as unfortunately predicted. The scry she had performed before had informed her of no other Gift but his ability to enhance other supernatural phenomena, and while it was perfectly possible that he had other abilities that were hidden from her sight -as had been annoyingly proven by Nightman and The Man in the Suit, she didn't get that same sense of concealment from him. Which meant he was, physically, a bog standard human. Unfortunate.

Damn, I have no choice but to shield him!

Gritting its teeth, her Spirit panned its glowing blue eyes across the room, looking for options. In lieu of the ability to dodge, the brunet instead needed a physical shield to weather the storm. One way or another, Chinami currently had no other path but to take the attacks head on, her own body and Spirit the only things she really could say for sure could handle it. Even so... If these orbs were anywhere near as devastating as the initial attack that had seeped into the floor... if that ominous effect applied to all of The Man in the Suit's utilizations of his Gift? Then they were in trouble. With that in mind, it would be better to still explore every possible option otherwise.

Her Spirit lunged at barely subsonic speeds for one of the nearby chairs in the room, snatching it up and quickly interposing it between Chinami's true body and the assault, as said body continued to back away in what felt to her was a glacial pace, her heartbeat thundering in her ears from each slow motion pulse.

The first orbs impacted the chair. Unfortunately the fabric and stuffing proved little to no obstacle, and though her Spirit's physical strength held the furniture steady, the orbs of darkness punched into it like bullets, the flimsy wooden frame splintering and stuffing rupturing forth.

And then the orbs exploded.

They weren't big explosions, not really, but they were there nonetheless, a series of blasts like firecrackers going off with purely physical force behind them, reducing the chair they'd pierced in mass to smithereens. Chinami's Spirit flinched away, the hands having caught some of the impacts, and for a moment, Chinami panicked a bit internally... before realizing that nothing more had occurred. To her great relief, nothing more than high physical force seemed to be employed in this onslaught. There was no lingering shadow on the remains of the chair or her Spirit, no creeping burn or unusual sensations. It was like getting pelted with beanbags. Well, for her Spirit, it was, the spectral extension of her soul being more durable than any regular person. For anyone else, the attacks likely would be equivalent to being barbarically stoned to death, even a single one of them potentially lethal if it hit the right place, like a rock being pitched at nearly 100 miles per hour.

Her Spirit had weathered the glancing blows, and yet still... It had, indeed, had to weather them to some degree, which meant the projectiles -and The Man in the Suit's Gift by extension- possessed the spiritual element she'd feared it might. He could hurt her. Sure, these weak attacks wouldn't do much on their own, but she'd actually felt them. If she was pinned down and forced to endure them for an extended period... then that damage would inevitably add up to something far more serious.

"[Living on a Prayer], not a single one goes through!"

Even now, her Spirit's arms and body ripped forth in a flurry of motion to deflect and detonate every last projectile that came their way, the spectral guardian far too quick for even a single one to conventionally pass, despite several curving, spinning and otherwise not moving in a straight line. Chinami hissed quietly, however, as -like she expected- her arms began to feel rather... tenderized. She could physically feel the bruises forming all across her hands and forearms. The onslaught was intensifying, but her defense held strong, even as a toll began to be extracted. She was certain she could hold out long enough to reach the brunet and teleport them both to safety... but she wasn't sure she could say the same for Blondie.

The Man in the Suit was beginning to encroach again, his footfalls spreading more of the far more worrying d a r k n e s s in annoyingly large and growing pools. And as he did so... a plan was beginning to form in Chinami's mind.

Even as her Spirit defended her and the brunet... she had it begin to feign slip-ups, had it occasionally miss a wider ranging attack or two, before finally snagging them when they got closer to actually hitting her or her charge. As her physical body retreated closer to the brunet boy, Chinami's Spirit was at all times kept within a strict one meter radius of herself, as though an invisible tether yoked it, as she did her level best to sell to the enemy the idea that she was straining to defend, was on the retreat in every way that mattered, and -most importantly- that her Spirit's range, despite its speed and power, was far shorter than the reality. A ploy to make the Man in the Suit overconfident, a feint to imply her as a trivial obstacle compared to Blondie, who had actually hurt him...

And a gambit to lure him too far into her actual range to defend when she finally struck back...

The Wards: A Grimdark Teenage Superhero Story

Sean Evens/Overclock

Date/Time: November 11th, 2022. 6:02 PM.

Location(s): Redline PRT Headquarters

Stage 3 Escalation Energy Pool: 1 hours, 36 minutes, 0 seconds

---

---

The other Wards were continuing to filter in, and Sean, despite currently being partially ramped up, had his mind running so fast managing all the new inputs that he felt a little overwhelmed in spite of it all.

Workshop's response was kind enough, but the small glower in her eyes only got confusion from him. Honestly, Sean wasn't sure what she was upset about. His caution? Well, maybe he was being a tad too obvious about it, but exactly how could she blame him? He wasn't the one making fuck-off-unstable wild card technology, so he had a right to be wary. The formality? It wasn't like he'd given her his, so why wouldn't he refer to her as anything other than her alter-ego, especially in a setting where secret identities might as well not exist. In the end, he only vocalized an, "Mmmm," in response and left it at that. They weren't exactly friends, and he didn't need his attention being pulled even more directions, especially given how much of it was focused on keeping an eye on her... gadget.

A younger boy in a rather dapper getup was next to arrive, and Sean could only raise a single brow at the finger-guns and greeting being shot his way. Given his current mood, he wasn't exactly in the best headspace to appreciate the overly familiar address; rather, he'd always been a bit tweaked by nicknames. Maybe it was the small aspect of outside definition, but he'd never appreciated being called by any name he'd not chosen for himself. And the comment on his jacket...? He snorted lightly. "It's nothing special. Bog standard stuff. No brand. I honestly couldn't tell you when or where I got it; I've had it too long." And honestly, it's not like he really wore a costume per-say; rather he was known in part as a hero for how down to earth his whole shtick generally was. Aside from a domino mask slipped out of his pockets when he needed to slow down to a visual level, he'd had no need for an actual disguise. Sean's other brow rose to join the first in the face of the normally fairly amiable Director's rather... chilly response to the newcomer as well. Maybe it was the hints of irreverent smart-assery Sean could already sense in undertones.

But his attention didn't stay there for long in the face of the absolute explosion of words that assaulted him from yet another newcomer, a younger boy, seemingly around the same age as the first. Though Sean wouldn't have quite bet on it; he'd never been the best at determining ages. To be honest, it was all he could do at the present moment to simply smile lightly and nod in the face of the... frankly, fanboy until said boy turned his attention elsewhere. Sure, having been a hero for two years, Sean wasn't unfamiliar with praise, but he wasn't exactly overly comfortable with it either, especially when it was this... much. Under normal circumstances too, he could usually make up an excuse to dart away at top speed, but right now, no such luck was with him. For once, he wasn't in a position to put distance between himself and admiration... to run away from the problem.

And that name... Hope? Well, it wasn't like Sean was against the concept of bringing light to the darkness, but that kind of name carried a weight to it, a responsibility. To take such a name carelessly in this world was the height of arrogance or naivety. Worse than that, such a name was an unspoken promise to the people you were going to protect, a covenant that would be all too easy to break. That was the sort of name that demanded expectations be heaped upon it.

This kid -Andrew- didn't know just what kind of fucking anthill he'd kicked over by claiming that title. That was practically catnip to villains looking to humiliate a do-gooder, practically taunting them.

Sean had never heard of him, and he'd kept tabs on the majority of the serious players in Redline these past two years. If this guy had been around for any significant amount of time, then he certainly wasn't making the kind of waves required to live up to the name he'd snatched. And if he hadn't been around long...? Well, that just sounded like thoughtless teenage arrogance to Sean. And sure, that might have sounded a bit rich coming from another teenager -if an older one, but Sean liked to hope he was more well-grounded than the average teen parahuman... or parahumans in general. He kept his own ambitions high, but ultimately realistic, expressed grand ideals but tempered them with the knowledge that change was never as simple as simply believing and wanting it. Shit happened. You couldn't save everyone, and to promise otherwise, to claim you could give more than you were actually able? That, quite simply, was to lie, to deceive the people with false hope, and such a thing wasn't fair to either side of the equation.

But he digressed.

The next to arrive had... honestly caught his eye in a way he wasn't initially expecting. A girl about his age in a bit of a frumpy getup with messy, pinned-back chin-length bangs that couldn't seem to quite decide if they were more brown or red. Either way, she was on a visual level... honestly somehow hitting right in his strike zone. She had a sort of effortless beauty, the kind that implied she didn't actually work for it, that it came naturally to her, which in combination with her clothes implied a certain level of modesty that he could appreciate. Vanity had never really appealed to Sean in girls, and between recovering from his Trigger, school, martial arts, work and his heroics, he'd never really found time or motivation to date. He wasn't the sort to use dating apps as some sort of naively hopeful quick-fix, and really, he was too busy before to even consider adding anything else to his plate.

This whole Wards thing... might actually be a solution to that, one he genuinely hadn't considered before, a silver lining to the bullshit. Now that he'd basically been forced to quit his prior job, he was no longer in an environment where his primary dating prospects were people he would have to gamble on trusting with his secret identity. And to be honest, that was kind of a sticking point for him. Maybe it was asking too much of the universe, but Sean was the type to prefer a romance to mostly... just happen naturally, not be a cheap thing sought out to fill an empty social hole or get a quick lay. He wanted something genuine, something with no secrets or -at least- not ones as big as him being a parahuman. Given how casual he was about it, anyone he got that close to would inevitably find out, and he didn't want to lie about that sort of thing to begin with, even by omission. He wanted to be open about his powers, be able to trust his secret with his partner. And before now... he'd never been in an environment where that would be implicitly universally the case. With that major primary hurdle out of the way? Well, suddenly, Sean was in a position he'd thought closed to him for a long while.

But that was getting way ahead of himself. He'd literally just met her for Pete's sake, and they hadn't even exchanged more than looks. Well, granted, she seemed to silently recognize him in some way, to which he simply nodded in recognition of her recognition, even if he couldn't guess what was going through her head. He didn't know anything about her other than the fact that she seemed similarly as unenthused with this as him... if her aloof standing off to the side was any clue, which, to be honest, was just another point in her favor. Maybe it was petty, but he was all for knowing he wasn't the only one not drinking the PRT kool aid. Before that though, he'd actually have to get her freaking name before he even thought of taking this line of consideration further.

How to do it though...

Well, he could always wait for it to be brought up naturally and piggyback off the offered info. If her disinterest was genuine, then he wasn't likely to earn any points with her for trying to drag her into an unfavorable social situation. The fact that she had pulled out her phone and an earphone and was now literally only half-listening to the proceedings seemed to reinforce this conclusion. Though... there were some inconsistencies... like the small smile that he'd likely not have noticed without his enhanced vision. Though, it was equally likely that was merely due to her enjoying a good song.

That line of thought was interrupted by the Director chiming in again about some apparent Tinkertech earbuds that were now getting passed around. While Sean wasn't exactly sure who this "Grey Man" was -whether it was one of his fellow Wards or some new member of the Guardians, the Master implications couldn't have been more blatant. Well, he hadn't been sure until the Director unceremoniously gestured at the dapperly dressed boy. Sean's stomach curdled in distinct discomfort at the idea of working with an obvious human Master, but none of that showed in his expression. Instead, given his current doubled speed, to an outside perspective, he merely opened and equipped his own earbuds a fair sight faster than the others, a small frown blooming on his mouth before smoothing away at high speed.

The implication that they would actually need such protection from their own supposed ally was not a good one. Either this "Grey Man's" power was involuntary, he had neither the will or morals to bother restraining it... or he was the sort to be actively conniving with it. And given the Director's unusually icy disposition towards the boy? Unfortunately, Sean was leaning towards the latter two.

Sliding the earbud case into his jacket's inner pocket, Sean watched with half an eye, as the frumpy girl caught the set tossed to her easily in both hands... while the trashy one scrambled but managed not to drop them as well.

The Director made a prompt for introductions... and a gesture for the frumpy loner girl to get with the program. Clearly, he wasn't enthused with her lack of showing even the most basic team cohesion. It was one thing to be of few words like Sean; it was another thing entirely to not even humor team unity by sitting at the table. In line with that mode of thought, Sean wasn't all too inclined to speak up first. Despite his power being the sort that might encourage a reckless "strike hard, strike first" approach, Sean instead was a more careful sort typically, especially when it came to the unknown. His power encouraged waiting, watching and carefully picking your moment. Sure, he could ramp up ahead of fights, but the energy waste was atrocious. Therefore, in life as in battle, he'd come to be a more reactionary sort, scouting out the unknown first before carefully choosing his course of action.

In short, he'd let the other Wards make the first move and then adjust his approach appropriately.

Unfortunately, Workshop seemed keen to take center stage, and as she called herself "Beverly" (a name Sean honestly couldn't recall), the device in her hands seemed to be making far more ominous noises... before going off-! Sean's Breaker state instantly hit stage two, and he jolted in his seat, almost standing up before his accelerated vision caught sight of what was spilling forth from the makeshift Tinker grenade.

Confetti?

Closing his eyes and allowing his Breaker state to slide back down to the first stage, Sean leaned back in his chair and struggled to calm his abruptly thundering heart, as the southern gal was swallowed up by a harmless mass of paper. The sudden crackling buzz of energy all too close to the Director shot both his heartrate and power level right back up again, as Sean stood abruptly in the face of a portal, prepared to lunge forward and pull the Director away from an intruder-

Only to cluck his tongue at the raggedy, afroed African-American girl stepping through the space gateway with an all too casual quip on her tongue for the ridiculously reckless stunt she'd just pulled. Sitting back down and scoffing lightly at her introduction as "Aaliyah", Sean really unfortunately couldn't help commenting dryly, "I know from personal experience that the Mover life can make things seem slow, but there are far too many ways teleporting into a highly-secure meeting between unmasked Parahumans could go terribly wrong for everyone involved." He ran one hand through his brown hair. "Honestly, it only takes one twitchy trigger-finger to get someone seriously hurt." Shaking his head, Sean bit his tongue to stop himself from pursuing that line of dialogue further, waving his hand with a sigh. "Never mind. Far be it from me stop you." From suffering the consequences of your own actions, he tactfully refrained from tacking on.

Honestly, realistically, he wasn't exactly in any actual position to tell the others what to do, so he'd have to count on the Director to do something about that misstep. As if on que, the Director did indeed make his own admonishment, nothing so specific as Sean's gripe but clearly stated and understandable. It was all too easy to get used to overusing one's powers for trivial things. On a certain level, that could subconsciously distance a Parahuman from the rest of humanity. Sean knew it well. even just being a hero at all created a vast separation between him and regular folk in his civilian life, discouraged connections for fear of being revealed. Given how much he hated the cold, for example, it was simply too mind-bogglingly convenient to run his power at first stage at all times while outside to knock the bite out of the wintery northern air. In most every other measure, however, he refrained from indulging casually; after all, it was all too easy to accidentally perform superhuman feats and not realize how it might appear from an outside perspective.

In other news, Frumpy Loner Girl had finally taken the Director's hint and come over to the table, seemingly also taking it upon herself to help Beverly out of her predicament. Sean blinked a bit at the apparent stutter in her voice and raised a brow outright at her introducing herself as "Memento", an obvious cape name. Why she hadn't returned the favor of using her actual name, Sean couldn't rightly fathom, however, especially given the whole glaring lack of masks thing they all had going on. Because, honestly, what was the point in concealing that detail at this juncture?

Shaking the ultimately minor gripe away for the moment, Sean raised another brow at her claim to be able to "heal". Now, Sean wasn't exactly a scientist, but he did have basic pattern recognition. "Healers", pure ones, weren't really a thing with Parahumans, not as far as he could ever recall hearing. Usually, that "healing" effect was a side-effect or twisted usage of their actual powers or just a supplementation to their primary suite. So, between her lack of elaboration and the Director's somewhat ominous commentary on the matter, Sean was inclined to gird his loins for what was shaping up to be an... interesting future reveal... in every Chinese proverb sense of the word.

The Director's heated expression and words dragged Sean's attention back to Grey Man (who had thus introduced himself as "Will") and Andrew, where the former seemed to be almost... off balance socially. Honestly, Will's rather show-boaty demeanor was already starting to grate at Sean, the unnecessary and curated dialogue setting the Breaker's teeth on edge. He'd worked in fast-food, dammit; he knew a feigned cordiality when he saw it, had been the user himself all too many times, in fact. Well, okay, to be fair, Andrew was also not giving his best showing, so between the two, they managed to flail at each-other socially in just the right manner to get along disturbingly well. Not that Sean was unhappy to see that Grey Man was actually getting some level of social outreach directed his way in these circumstances, but the complete lack of any manner of caution on Andrew's part -aside from apparently donning the earbuds without hesitation- was... unencouraging.

Sean barely managed to school his expression into one of mere displeasure, as Grey Man continued to ramble on. His expression briefly darkened when the boy made an absurd declaration of being a purveyor of illegal activity, before further elaborating that he'd just used his power... a power that hadn't been blocked by the nonexistent earbuds on Aaliyah. Sean's hands clenched into fists briefly in his lap, before he folded them onto the table all too calmly, lacing his fingers together lightly. Grey Man's power was obviously vocal-based, but he couldn't determine anything more about it at this juncture. The empty apologies that followed the act fell on deaf ears, as Sean closed his eyes and took a slow calming breath, restoring his composure.

Clearly, Grey Man had been recruited under circumstances similar to the bullshit the PRT tried and failed to pull on him. Either sign up and get with the program... or go to jail. In other words, Grey Man was most certainly not to be trusted at this juncture, not with such a clearly irreverent attitude towards using his powers on his own allies. The fact that he mostly failed was of no concern whatsoever, only that he even dared make the attempt at all. He was a blatant manipulator, one far less clever than he likely thought he was, and being effectively denied his power had apparently thrown him off his game enough to reveal his true colors. Now that Sean had seen them, he wouldn't be letting his guard down for a second.

Deliberately taking his mind off of what was now the second-most worrying member of the group -only led by Beverly "Time Stop Bubble" Workshop herself- was a challenge, but Sean found himself pursing his lips at the words of Andrew. The kid was a motor-mouth supreme was a blatant lack of social skills... and enough lack of subtlety to actually admit that out loud. Sean restrained a groan of embarrassment by proxy, his mind already conjuring the epic PR clusterfucks to come, as he briefly ran one hand down his face. The fact that Andrew had actually consulted the Director openly about his socialization skills -or lack thereof- and then went on to all but flagrantly ask out both Will and Memento simultaneously made Sean have to restrain a violent twitch of irritation. By that point, the frivolous hair color changing was honestly just the cherry on top, and the damned "dictionary" comment made him want to pull his own hair out.

Right, third most worrying member of the team officially located.

The Tinker with the cybernetic arm finally spoke up and introduced herself as "Jane". Her specialty... was interesting and apparently fairly broad, running the breadth of limbs like her arm to fucking mech suits... Though, she sounded a little oddly self-conscious about that. Maybe all her gear looked as Mad Max as her arm? In that case, Sean could see where she might be a bit tender about the aesthetics of her personal brand of technological bullshit. Aloud, he simply voiced with a grin, "Damn, nice. So, what I'm hearing here is that every little boy and girl's dream of following in Luke Skywalker's footsteps is finally in reach?" Lounging back in his chair, Sean chuckled. "Well, if Memento's healing doesn't work out, consider me signed the hell up. Mad Max limb is better than no limb, you know?" Something about Jane was honestly niggling at the back of his mind, like he'd seen that junky tech of hers out in the wild, come across some stuff vaguely similar in the hands of villains and other criminals, little supplements here and there that made more than one encounter more frustrating than it had any right to be. Originally, he'd assumed that tech came from Workshop's carelessness, but in hindsight... the "Mad Max" tech had always tended to be far more reliable in the end, less likely to backfire and defeat the enemy for him in a ridiculous manner.

Ultimately, Sean put those thoughts on the backburner, but given the circumstances...? Well, despite the assumedly extensive vetting process conducted by the PRT, he'd have to take things as they come and hope he was just worrying over nothing.

Shaking his head, Sean paid mind to the Director accepting Andrew's barrage of questions and answering them... honestly as smoothly as could be expected in this situation. The day's itinerary was finally laid out, and Sean nodded along approvingly; all of that sounded more than reasonable. To be honest, a group patrol at this stage was probably highly premature, but he refrained from voicing his opinion on the matter yet. Ultimately, the Director had the final say in such things... for better or worse.

Sean raised a brow in some measure of disbelief at Andrew's seeming immediate assumption that he'd take on a leadership slot. That sounded like way too much responsibility way too fast, especially for a gig he'd not even wanted to begin with. The Director, in turn, made some good points, but Sean ultimately nodded gratefully in response to the noncommittal answer given on the issue. He couldn't help a little chuff at Will's dry inquiry on a "dart board" or "spinner"; to be honest, there were worse ways to decide, and the randomization element would quell a large part of any jealousy that might be provoked. Sean smiled approvingly at the idea of a group "vote" of sorts on the matter of leadership. As an appreciator of core American ideals like the democratic process, he could more than approve of the idea of the team choosing their own head. Even...

"Why make it just one?" Sean shrugged with a familiar smile finally finding its way onto his face, the expression of a mediator, one he'd worn many times as a hero on the job. "Unless I miss my guess, it's not like any of us would have any real experience with being in command." Unfortunately, he didn't exactly consider his helping teach martial arts equivalent to the current matter, and openly advocating himself for such a position to begin with just left... some sort of sour taste in his mouth that he couldn't quite describe. "That's a lot more pressure and responsibility than people tend to give it credit for. In an ideal world, we could just make decisions as a united group, but if there's an insistence or need for a head, I think it would be much more reasonable to have two or three among us share the load, especially given our numbers."

The elevator opening again caught his attention, admitting a rather conspicuously alone -no officer escort in sight- blue-eyed older boy with a shock of white hair, obviously dyed this time for a change. The odds of a second Cape joining them that could also conveniently color-change their hair were long, so Sean had no reason to assume any different until proven otherwise. The newest newcomer was big, obviously athletic, taller than Sean even at a guesstimate, and it was easy to also assume he was of a similar age. The white-haired boy spoke with a sort of easy confidence when introducing himself as "Caiden", but... something about him was already setting Sean's teeth on edge.

It was nothing he could exactly openly put to words, but several things just seemed... off. The clearing of Caiden's throat to interrupt discussion and deliberately draw attention to himself even when simply walking over would have served well enough. The fact that his own addressal to the Director somehow managed to sound ruder than Grey Man's, despite the latter verbalizing himself more informally. There were a bunch of other little things, like the way he held himself, his clothes, his far more "friendly" presentation to the other Wards... Hmmm, perhaps that was it...? It was the way he was presenting himself. Under normal circumstances, Sean might not have twigged to anything being overtly off, but with Will making a show of himself and his own personal experience, Sean had more than enough immediate context to peg Caiden for another manipulator... one far more experienced and refined than someone that likely relied half on their power for things, which made Crosspoint, by contrast, far more threatening.

Shaking his head lightly, Sean tried to banish the spurt of perhaps irrational paranoia, but it couldn't seem to settle down, not fully. Ultimately, upon inner examination, he realized he didn't actually trust anyone here, not yet, not the way he needed to be able to. Before today, all of exactly no one had he ever willing told about his powers, so to suddenly be thrust into a situation where his secret identity was suddenly being spread to all and sundry amongst a bunch of teens that he couldn't rightly assume were devoid of a plant or spy despite even the PRT's resources? Amongst teens like Andrew, who seemed obliviously blunt enough to accidentally out any number of them?

In that situation, Sean could acknowledge that he'd held back from introducing himself for more than a reason as simple as wanting to read the room. At the end of the day, he didn't want to out himself any further than his face, and he could suddenly greatly understand Memento's position... if, indeed, that's what this was. Her apparent caution was one he now realized he shared. It was completely justified. So, now, the question is if he should show solidarity with that now... or wait to see if she'd revoke her stance to take on the one employed by the majority. Honestly, that was where Sean was leaning. Refusing to give out his real name would be a blatant refusal of solidarity and an obvious display of his mistrust, and further, the Director seemed like the kind of guy to not give a shit about his preferences and use his real name openly with the others regardless, completely nullifying the point.

Jane -the girl with the cyber arm- was speaking again... and asked a fairly relevant question. Why had the Director come after them. Coincidence? Power? Looking to add preexisting reputation and PR to the team through certain members? Hell, some members of this team were actively dangers to the others. Workshop and Grey Man were genuine threats for entirely different reasons, only one being hapless and the other a bad-faith actor enough to provoke specific safeguards. Wasn't this place supposed to be some sort of "safe space to train powers and avoid danger"? Well, granted, Sean considered that to be frank bullshit, considering how badly the PRT was outnumbered in Redline, but were they just unable to go the extra mile to at least give the presentation that their words were truthful? Were they that desperate for warm empowered bodies? Frankly, Sean was inclined to think the answer was honestly some mixture of all of the above, but maybe the Director had a different brutally pragmatic -or shockingly altruistic- answer in store for them...

Will's commentary on the matter reflected that assumed pragmatism, and glancing around at the ages arrayed before them, Sean had to agree, snorting wryly, "Seems about right. Just about everyone here seems to be on the older end of the spectrum. Obviously, most parents aren't stupid enough to pretend like we're actually going to be safe all the time, no matter what flavor Kool Aid the PRT is serving them, so the only ones that seem inclined to risk it for the big financial and support benefits are those with kids that are closer to flying the coop, the ones that can be reasonably expected to handle themselves." He crossed his arms and nodded with something of a half-smirk Will's way, leaning back in his chair. Regardless of his personal... issues with Masters, assuming the PRT wasn't a bunch of morons and had vetted Grey Man extra hard, then he was... moderately willing to give him the benefit of a doubt. Not enough to remove his earbuds in the younger boy's presence ever but... enough to give him a chance. It might have been different if the brat's power "slip-up" had been on Sean, himself, but for the time being, he'd give him enough leeway to watch his back and give credence to his concerns.

Then Andrew started talking again. The kid's admission that he was an orphan... explained some things. Though, even for an orphan, Sean had never seen anyone this clueless. A rather dark part of his mind suggested that it was this very behavior that had kept Andrew from being adopted to begin with, even at his age, but Sean shoved that brutal thought down. Sean barely kept his smile intact when the kid went on about some nonsense regarding anime of all things. Damn, this guy was really a mood killer, he couldn't help concluding. And further... the looks Will was shooting Andrew's way spelled nothing good for the future. Sean honestly wasn't sure how he was going to deal with this, having such a frankly gullible and grating teammate around, but then again, it wasn't like his old workplace had been all sunshine and roses. Shit happened, and some people were just going to piss you off. Being an adult was largely about being able to tolerate those annoyances and remain amiable and smiling in the face of it all, and if nothing else, Sean prided himself on his customer service.

Yeah... Yeah, that was it. He just had to treat the kid like an especially annoying coworker and only deal with him when necessary. Within that frame of mind, suddenly, Andrew became much more tolerable. It wasn't like he was going to have to deal with him 24/7, not even during Wards work hours. Surely, he could handle this much. To do anything less would be a disgrace on his reputation as a hero. Honestly, what even was he practicing martial arts for, if he couldn't stay disciplined and polite in the face of slightest amount of inconvenience? Self-control was the name of the game, and despite any appearances to the contrary, he had that in spades. His power demanded it.

In other news, it seemed Memento -who had apparently thankfully rejected Andrew's impulsive "date" request- had in turn been goaded somewhat into a demonstration of her powers... and of course Beverly was the only one reckless enough to actually let herself be injured to test them. Luckily, Memento had enough sense to make it a mere skin reddening, hardly an actual "scratch" by any definition. Her explanation that her ability was in reality injury transfer left Sean understandably distinctly worried, both about the obvious pain she'd have to endure to use it and about the potential psychological impact that would have long term. An ability that demanded self-sacrifice to use... sounded distinctly unhealthy by any account.

Her further elaboration that she could make clones of herself to murder for the sake of others did not fucking help soothe his worries. Sean barely managed to keep his expression merely concerned instead of outright aghast, as he vocalized what he felt were two very important questions. "Your power gives you some level of pain immunity, right?" he inquired of Memento. "Or, at least, you can transfer injuries directly from a target to a clone without using yourself as the middleman, right?" Frankly, if the answer to either of those questions was "no", then he was about to become a whole lot more fucking concerned. That didn't sound like a healer; that sounded like something... far more abusive.

The elevator opened yet again, partially interrupting his worried musings, as a startlingly small Latino girl with her hair pulled into a scrunchie shuffled in. Sean, for one, was genuinely taken aback by her age; she couldn't have been older than thirteen and way too young for this! Now, certainly Andrew and Will seemed young-ish, but they at least seemed to have already hit the typical teenage growth spurt. This girl most certainly had not. Given the display of comparative giants leveled against her, the girl's initially blatant nervousness was obvious. The fact that she was wearing braces in that suddenly plastered on smile of hers and the actual school uniform she was wearing under her puffy jacket also gave him something to work with. First of which was that an actual uniform implied she went to a private school, which generally implied both a home and schooling environment that "expected more" and were overly concerned with appearances. And braces implied that -at her apparent age- she was likely suffering some self-esteem issues. Parahuman powers didn't just happen, not without pressure... pressure he was already in a position to speculate about.

Now, Sean wondered perhaps if things had changed, but generally, braces tended to not be treated well by other kids, never mind teens. They typically got you slapped with stereotypes like "nerd" and mocking labels, private school or no. Bullying happened; attempts were made by little hormonal assholes even towards the likes of him. Sean had been lucky enough to be able to physically handle himself through any rowdier sorts and socially adept enough to maneuver through attempts to attack him other ways. He had been able to handle himself and been more than willing to throw away his teenage pride and get the school faculty and his parents involved, eventually putting a stop to continued attempts to screw with him. But not everyone was him.

The Latino girl found a seat without so much as a word to the rest of them, directly in contrast to her apparent friendliness. Rolling his jaw, Sean considered the approach to take here. He knew that older teenagers tended to be rather... intimidating to younger kids. He recalled as much. After all, he'd been their age at one time too. So, she maybe wasn't too enthused about all this when she could have been hanging out with friends her own age... Still, Sean knew younger kids tended to like being taken seriously to a certain degree, and girls did on average mature faster than boys.

Outwardly, he genuinely couldn't help an incredulous sigh at Andrew nominating him as a leader again, despite being clearly shot down by the Director... Only, Sean supposed, understanding the Director's implications would require some reading between the lines, which Andrew might be less than adept at... Shaking his head, Sean briefly pinched the bridge of his nose, before raising a single brow Andrew's way. "Look, we're not voting on anything anytime soon. And frankly..." He panned his gaze over the whole table, meeting eyes where able. "I would much prefer that sort of position only be awarded to me -or anyone else, for that matter- on the basis of merit. In case you haven't noticed..." He spread his arms and shrugged. "I'm a bit of a solo act in this city... or was till now. I can be as bright and shining a hero as the next guy, but that doesn't necessarily mean I know a damn thing about actually leading people, either charismatically or -more importantly, I'd say- intellectually." Setting his arms on the table and lacing his fingers again, he nodded, almost as if to himself.

"And besides which," he chuffed, "It seems in somewhat poor taste to immediately elect someone you don't even know the real name of, especially after all of you were so generous enough to offer yours already." Shaking his head, he shrugged and grinned. "Well, if nothing else, I can immediately remedy that little issue." And hopefully humanize himself enough to get Andrew to... maybe cool it with the fanboy routine. Certainly, he knew heroes could be idolized as much as any pop star, more-so even for fairly understandable reasons, but if he was going to spend extensive time with this group, it was better that they weren't looking at him like he was supposed to be Parahuman Jesus, even if he was objectively the strongest speedster Mover he'd ever heard of. Even if it was foolishly easy to fall into the trap of feeling invincible when he was sufficiently ramped up, it was much better in the long run for his team to know he did have limits, that he was as human as anyone else. People expecting miracles from him could honestly only end badly for everyone involved... especially if he allowed himself to be foolish enough to attempt to supply said miracles.

Nodding in resolution, Sean sat up a little straighter and leaned back in his slightly turned out chair. "Some of you may know of me for one reason or another, but it's not like I'm the only Parahuman in the world. For you out-of-towners that might be amongst us -and those of you who don't really keep up with the clown scene, I go by Overclock out there in the wild, as... several people have mentioned. That's my name, but I've never really gone for a costume in general. It's kinda been my 'brand' up till now, but I suppose it couldn't last forever..." He shrugged noncommittally, not letting show the discomfort thoughts about that particular impending change provoked. "Outside the domino mask, my name's Sean." He didn't bother with his last name. It was ultimately unimportant and an extra layer of security until someone decided to slip up. "I'm seventeen years old, and I suppose heroing is my high-octane "hobby". Though, I guess that's a bit of a frivolous word for it. I've been taking martial arts for long enough to be a black belt, and that definitely contributed heavily to my discipline as a hero, the kind that let me safely perform my work for the past two years without getting criminal charges lobbed my way or stepping on any toes... Well," he chuckled wryly, shaking his head, "not the ones that matter anyway." Quite firmly implying that the PRT didn't even factor into his consideration, not that anyone but the Director would grok onto that. "Then again, there was no Wards program back then to answer the call of, so now that there is..." He briefly spread his arms again. "Well, I am here."

In the meantime, Memento seemed to have decided to take a shine to the small girl of her own volition... and dragged Bev along for the ride. Rapping his fingers lightly on the table, Sean was a bit torn. On the one hand, he'd actually intended to reach out to the smaller girl himself, but he'd apparently lost his chance in the flow of introductions. Going over there now, where the girl was distancing herself from the group on a couch, would be probably a little overwhelming, having three teenagers suddenly up in her face and looming over her. Was there really an approach he could offer that differed from Workshop's enthusiasm or Memento's softness?

No, not really. Instead, all he did was shoot perhaps the first fully genuine smile he'd made since arriving in this glorified prison towards the Latino child. Whether she acknowledged it or not was hardly much his concern, so long as he was managing to project a moderately friendlier and more welcoming atmosphere from the main table. He'd keep half an ear on that conversation and chime in himself if an opening to bring things together presented itself... assuming the Director didn't just bull through like with Memento's hesitance.

Multiversal Discord: The Mass-Scale Crossover RP

Bruno Bucciarati

Location(s): Paradox Engine, Control Center --> Medical Bay
Mentions: Ben @Mintz, Ash Williams @Eviledd1984, Doom Guy & Rarity @CHammer, Data @Dead Cruiser.

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Bruno's head was pounding.

Certainly, under most circumstances, this many people wouldn't be a problem for his senses. Though, to be fair, he had only developed them while undead and basically incapable of feeling pain, so there was every possibility that what he was feeling now was the natural backlash he'd been spared before. Regardless, it bore emphasizing that the here and now was not "most" circumstances. His body was in terrible shape, an exhaustion unlike anything he'd ever experienced before making him sluggish and weak. No, rather, from his reckoning, his body was in better condition than it had been for a long time, and yet, it was that very thing that was hurting him. His body had been dead, a puppet of his disconnected soul, so this pain... Perhaps it was more than his empathic senses being overwhelmed.

Bruno was no biologist, but he knew enough to know where to hurt someone and where and how to treat them for injuries if he must. Giono had added something to his gang that they'd been sorely lacking, a healer, and one educated on such matters if for no other reason than to best use their ability. Granted, that ability certainly didn't follow the normal rules of such things, as Stands were want to do, but they all effectively received a crash course in matters of the spiritual. Giorno could manipulate life energy, and it was the ability to apply a sustained stream that allowed Bruno's soul to grasp his corpse and remain for a while longer. His body, in truth, had long since been bereft of life energy, the cells dead, so what he was experiencing right now was...

The cells reenergizing? Cell replication being restarted?

That was Bruno's best supposition for the bone-deep pins and needles feeling that had taken him to his knees before. If that was the case, it was only something that copious amounts of bedrest could solve... something he was not in the privileged position to indulge in at the given moment.

Even more people were appearing, some stranger and less human than others, but Bruno could barely comprehend them. A spike of mental activity from Terra sent him mentally reeling, as she attempted futilely to interface with the machinery as Ben's monstrous crab form had. Speaking of which... Bruno had been trying to tune everything out, but prior to today, his main concern had been trying to understand others at all. His empathic senses had been slammed wide open and held there with an iron will, and trying to pull back on them was like trying to invert the equivalent of muscle memory.

The damned crab getting closer to him certainly didn't help matters. The concern was nice and all, but it couldn't have possibly been less helpful in the here and now. In fact, were it not for the crab physically steadying him, Bruno might have blacked out entirely from the sheer proximity to the thunderous humming mind within it. So, to say the least, the Stand User unfortunately couldn't manage to muster a cease and desist, as he was ushered clumsily into the apparent teleportation device! Ben was saying something, directing words towards him, but Bruno genuinely couldn't parse them through the utter chaos that was the rest of its thoughts and the rising confusion they were leaving behind.

Regardless of his understanding however, his once undead body had, in fact, not eaten anything recently... which was likely the only reason his lurching stomach moments later didn't upchuck its nonexistent contents under the additional spot of pressure atop the rest of the current stressors. Now, normally, one might assume putting a fair amount of physical distance between them and the rest of the confused minds would ease Bruno's mental load and allow him to finally get a proper word in edge-wise.

They would be wrong.

Blaring white surfaces stabbed painfully into his vision, doing nothing for his headache, but to be honest, Bruno was less concerned about the minds left behind than the one that was here.

R A G E

Muted at first, but seemingly stoked moments after, the emotion all but choked the air, strangling Bruno's senses and seething into every breath he took. He had felt many minds since developing this ability, experienced insanity, sorrow, joy and anger in equal measure, but none had the... vitriolic permutation of this one, practically seeping into the pores of reality. It was a wrath so potent, so deep-set and nigh indiscriminate that Bruno had no doubt that even those without empathic abilities would be able to feel it. It was less a feeling being experienced by a person and more a projection of intent to do egregious amounts of violence to everyone and everything around them.

And it was here. While it was currently out of sight deeper into the complex, Bruno had no doubt that an encounter was inevitable, and he was not in a good position to handle it. Ultimately, there was but one singular issue currently suppressing him, and he had no room or even possibly time to do things the slow way. The teleporter sounded out again behind him; another voice was speaking, but between the titanic brain beside him and the bubbling pervasive wrath somewhere before him, Bruno heard nothing.

Gritting his teeth, the gangster forced his Stand into action, making to displace the crab's grip through the sudden appearance and injunction of its spectral bulk. He had not the strength to call its name, but even so, [Sticky Fingers] answered his commands with alacrity. As soon as the crab's grip was loosened, [Sticky Fingers] shoved him away from Ben, a bulky, golden zipper sprouting on the painfully white tiles to extend all the way to the furthest corner of the room. Taking hold of the zipper with one hand and gripping the back of Bruno's shirt with the other, the Stand propelled him away from the teleportation area in a barely controlled tumble, only his Stand's grip keeping him from being rag-dolled.

A moment later, Bruno choked out, "T-that form-! Hurk-! Off! Turn back!"