Just noting that I think it's best for the flow if I wait until Kazelia posts :)
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Spiral Goons are attracted to @Sarahphim like a moth to a flame.
They're not thinking right. They're breathing deep on mind control gas, instincts dulled, personalities suppressed. But even then some stirring deep in their hearts tells them that this is a hero. This is the target. The other threats here don't matter in comparison to the fame, the glory they can get by bringing down @Sarahphim. They come after you, super-powered zombies, condensing into a solid cluster of power armour.
You're holding them off, backing up, drawing the majority of the horde along with you while avoiding their counterattacks. They're shoulder to shoulder, almost scrambling over each other as they come at you. You've got all the advantages here, what do you do with it?
Errant!
You come face to face with two elite Spiral troopers. Their armour is larger and deadlier than those of the more common goons, each holding crackling thunder-sabres. They take fighting stances and advance towards you with synchronized determination -
And then one of them stabs the other in the back and she goes down in a twitching, electrified heap.
"Hnn," rasps a familiar, haunting voice from behind the helmet's voice filter. "Don't get high on your own supply. Right kid?"
She stabs her sword into the ground and then turns around to show that her own backpack has many lights that have started blinking an ominous red.
"Looks like we're both off mission, huh?" rasped Sabrem. "They pack you kids with bomb squad skillwires still, or was that a heroic sacrifice I just made?"
Brainstorm!
You're hanging back, observing the flow of the battle - and one figure stands out clearly. Levitating down from the sky, cross-legged, it's the creepy hive queen Spiral Goon figure you saw back at the convention. She looks straight at you from her elevated position and you get the distinct feeling that she's assessing the situation, taking in the chaos, figuring out the tactical manoeuvres required to bring things back under control. If you don't do something to stop her you're going to go from fighting disorganized superzombies to fully capable and professional supervillains. What do you do?
Angel-IKA!
Locker fights like he's losing.
He takes a lot of hits. He goes onto the ground all the time. He's visibly bruised and limping. He always looks like he's seconds away from total disaster. But he's also holding off twenty power armoured goons with nothing but a claw hammer. Whereas you? You're clutching your broken chair leg in a stance somewhere between 'baseball bat' and 'I saw this in Duellists In The Rose Garden one time'. Not for the first time you check to see if you can transform into a sexy badass werewolf lady with claws that can tear through composite armour. Not for the first time you are disappointed.
But you're ready to do it. If Locker can fight even when he's that outmatched so can you. You stare down the megagoon, raise your weapon, and prepare to charge.
He... aims his gun at the roof? Fires a laser pointer dot?
CRASH
The ceiling shatters as a missile shoots down through it and you're knocked onto your back. Glowing yellow lights cut through the smoke. You see the ominous shape of a Zeta TAG looming above you and stare down the barrel of a riotstopper. You double check your latent werewolf potential just in case.
Then the lights flicker green. The TAG turns to the side and blasts the Spiral trooper in centre mass with fifty kilograms of adhesive.
Ferraphim1tp: FINALLY
Ferraphim1tp: I thought they'd never drop this fucking thing >:3
"Calm down!? I am responding exactly proportionately to the situation, how dare you tell me to calm down!?" said Victoria proportionately. "How dare you even talk to me!? Don't you know who I am!?"
There was a note of desperation in that last bit.
"That's fine. Fine," she said with the bare minimum amount of fine. "Doesn't matter. Soon everyone will know exactly who I am and what I'm capable of. Ha. Ha ha ha ha ha!" The laugh was involuntary, a stress giggle that turned into a horrified battle against herself when she realized what was happening. "It's," she clenched her teeth, trying to stop the twitching in her face. "Fine."
They're not thinking right. They're breathing deep on mind control gas, instincts dulled, personalities suppressed. But even then some stirring deep in their hearts tells them that this is a hero. This is the target. The other threats here don't matter in comparison to the fame, the glory they can get by bringing down @Sarahphim. They come after you, super-powered zombies, condensing into a solid cluster of power armour.
You're holding them off, backing up, drawing the majority of the horde along with you while avoiding their counterattacks. They're shoulder to shoulder, almost scrambling over each other as they come at you. You've got all the advantages here, what do you do with it?
Errant!
You come face to face with two elite Spiral troopers. Their armour is larger and deadlier than those of the more common goons, each holding crackling thunder-sabres. They take fighting stances and advance towards you with synchronized determination -
And then one of them stabs the other in the back and she goes down in a twitching, electrified heap.
"Hnn," rasps a familiar, haunting voice from behind the helmet's voice filter. "Don't get high on your own supply. Right kid?"
She stabs her sword into the ground and then turns around to show that her own backpack has many lights that have started blinking an ominous red.
"Looks like we're both off mission, huh?" rasped Sabrem. "They pack you kids with bomb squad skillwires still, or was that a heroic sacrifice I just made?"
Brainstorm!
You're hanging back, observing the flow of the battle - and one figure stands out clearly. Levitating down from the sky, cross-legged, it's the creepy hive queen Spiral Goon figure you saw back at the convention. She looks straight at you from her elevated position and you get the distinct feeling that she's assessing the situation, taking in the chaos, figuring out the tactical manoeuvres required to bring things back under control. If you don't do something to stop her you're going to go from fighting disorganized superzombies to fully capable and professional supervillains. What do you do?
Angel-IKA!
Locker fights like he's losing.
He takes a lot of hits. He goes onto the ground all the time. He's visibly bruised and limping. He always looks like he's seconds away from total disaster. But he's also holding off twenty power armoured goons with nothing but a claw hammer. Whereas you? You're clutching your broken chair leg in a stance somewhere between 'baseball bat' and 'I saw this in Duellists In The Rose Garden one time'. Not for the first time you check to see if you can transform into a sexy badass werewolf lady with claws that can tear through composite armour. Not for the first time you are disappointed.
But you're ready to do it. If Locker can fight even when he's that outmatched so can you. You stare down the megagoon, raise your weapon, and prepare to charge.
He... aims his gun at the roof? Fires a laser pointer dot?
CRASH
The ceiling shatters as a missile shoots down through it and you're knocked onto your back. Glowing yellow lights cut through the smoke. You see the ominous shape of a Zeta TAG looming above you and stare down the barrel of a riotstopper. You double check your latent werewolf potential just in case.
Then the lights flicker green. The TAG turns to the side and blasts the Spiral trooper in centre mass with fifty kilograms of adhesive.
Ferraphim1tp: FINALLY
Ferraphim1tp: I thought they'd never drop this fucking thing >:3
[accepting shift, regen erases moves, changes ability, changes appearance]
She comes back to herself, blinking. While before she was edges, now it's gentle curves, whorls of etching on her face and arms, somewhat reminiscent of the ocean. She resists the urge to tug at the bindings for now, pointedly ignoring the tingling from it, certainly just the electricity. "Do you need some tea to calm down? I can recommend a few good blends."
"Calm down!? I am responding exactly proportionately to the situation, how dare you tell me to calm down!?" said Victoria proportionately. "How dare you even talk to me!? Don't you know who I am!?"
There was a note of desperation in that last bit.
"That's fine. Fine," she said with the bare minimum amount of fine. "Doesn't matter. Soon everyone will know exactly who I am and what I'm capable of. Ha. Ha ha ha ha ha!" The laugh was involuntary, a stress giggle that turned into a horrified battle against herself when she realized what was happening. "It's," she clenched her teeth, trying to stop the twitching in her face. "Fine."
<Snipped quote by Thanqol>
Apologies, there must've been a communications mixup. >_> I'd been out of town for a convention from last Wednesday evening to late Sunday night, and only just now got out of work.
I'll have a post up in the next hour.
Ah! No worries :)
Hey Amish, this delay's getting pretty dramatic. What's up?
Princess Adila turned in a distressed circle. Isolde needs attention, and Eska needs attention, and Kazelia is there too and she needs attention too and and and and her heart was breaking for all of them and there was a whine starting to build inside her and -
It was honestly kind of startling for everyone involved, including her, when she reached out and snapped the tent pole like a twig. She lowered Kazelia down and slung her across her back. Then she was over to Isolde, picking her up as well. This was an emergency, after all! She hadn't stopped accelerating at all in this process and when she came across to Eska she was moving with non-negotiable speed. Before anyone had a chance to object they were all crushed together in a ball, wrapped around on all sides by a surprisingly stretchy and flexible and extremely soft and fluffy ball of fur. Everyone was here. Everyone was together. She was going to hold them all and keep them safe until they all knew how much they were loved.
(The relationship between snapping the central tent pole and the tent collapsing was not clearly articulated in her mind just yet)
It was honestly kind of startling for everyone involved, including her, when she reached out and snapped the tent pole like a twig. She lowered Kazelia down and slung her across her back. Then she was over to Isolde, picking her up as well. This was an emergency, after all! She hadn't stopped accelerating at all in this process and when she came across to Eska she was moving with non-negotiable speed. Before anyone had a chance to object they were all crushed together in a ball, wrapped around on all sides by a surprisingly stretchy and flexible and extremely soft and fluffy ball of fur. Everyone was here. Everyone was together. She was going to hold them all and keep them safe until they all knew how much they were loved.
(The relationship between snapping the central tent pole and the tent collapsing was not clearly articulated in her mind just yet)
His train of thought and the skylight shatter at about the same time, and he stops, mid-battlefield, to point up. "No! Bad scoreboard. Wrong!"
Fuck him, what was he saying with "Try sixteen?" Sure, try sixty-four. Maybe Euna could win this--she's had training, after all, in fighting an entire skyscraper at once. And despite himself, he's still only one person and soon it's all he can do to avoid being one smear on the pavement.
So, get off the pavement. Get in the air. Locker's with Angelica. He should be there too. Look around, find the broadcasting booth, get between her and as many Spiral troopers as he can.
[And that's a miss on Defend Someone. Marking XP]
Like you say. It's too much. There are supervillains and superheroes on every side and they all seem to agree that you're a free target. You're getting hit from the right, hit from the left, barely able to keep your head together. You see Locker in the distance, throwing something that explodes and sends a flying guy into a wall, but then he's going bare fist against power armoured supervillain and you can tell he's losing, especially when Angel-IKA tries to break a chair over the spiral guy's back but instead smashes Locker clear in the face. Even over the melee you can hear the 'sorry! Sorry!' and 'fucking REALLY?'
And it seems like it was all for nothing. Alone, isolated, you against the world.
And you're seeing rainbows.
Errant! @Sarahphim! You rappel down from the ceiling together, sliding down a rope from one of Dominus' assault helicopters, surrounded by suppressive missile fire causing explosions in every direction. You land immediately above Brainstorm. How's your entrance?
So the sucky thing about fighting somebody that has, until now, been your friend? They know what you're able to do, and they have a good idea of what you're about to do. See the climatic duel between Anyan and his mentor Soya in Swords By Moonlight 3, when Soya needs to teach him his final lesson. Soya knows the duel's coming, he can prepare. Anyan doesn't.
Maybe this isn't the best thing to flash through her mind as she steps right into the Megagoon's trap, but hey, it's the little things. The Megagoon she'd hacked, did in fact have enough counterintrusion and tech on him to keep her busy for a crucial, oh, half second. She'd gotten in, she'd gotten ready to fight, and they'd made him completely toothless. Gun's unloaded, servos on the armor turned way down, not even a smoke grenade in his equipment roster. Time for plan B. Plan B sucks. She grabs the Professor and shoves her out of the way and towards the door, ducking and weaving towards where the portal still sits open, ducking through for a desperate rush at the portal generator. Hack that, wreck that, and the Foundation is safe.
Remember how fighting friends sucks? There's a half dozen entrenched E/Maulers pointed at the portal. She makes it a handful of steps before they open fire, and she goes down, reaching for the rift generator, not sure if she got it.
Ferra Reboot In Progress
"I can't believe - you let Professor Gears get away!?" Victoria's voice has the tension of a steel cable holding an entire battleship over the edge of a skyscraper. "You let the cyborg and the bitch get away!? And all you got for me is the fucking robot?!! What the fuck am I supposed to do with that!?"
You're starting to regain sensation - and the sensation is strain. You have been tied in some sort of avaunt guarde puzzle knot, an elaborate and even vaguely suggestive full body binding that courses with latent electricity ready to painfully jolt you if you struggle too hard. You can't see much. You can hear every word of the one-sided argument though.
"What do you expect me to do with it? Lower it into a vat of acid? It's not even a person! Who's going to give a damn about it? I'll just look even more ridiculous than you've already made me look - no, I do not fucking care about the 'positive situation in the Indian market', Perseus. I want you to devote every spare processing cycle to putting the goddamn super hero squad in chains below my boot or I will take my frustrations out on your goddamn CPU!"
[Victoria is telling you that you don't matter and no one is coming from you, shift your freak up and mundane down or reject her influence]
Princess Adila's ears flatten against the back of her head. She instinctively shies away from that tone, that coldness, even if she wants to scream in words she doesn't have any more: No! That's wrong! There is another way if you were just brave enough to try it, because if Princess Kazelia can have her heart awoken from the cold then surely there is hope for anyone, isn't there?
But the words aren't there and there's fur in her eyes - so much fur, she feels like a gigantic ball of black wool. She stumbles forwards blindly, trying to think in tones that weren't just saddened whining, trying to think about how to ask the powerful, cold, distant, aloof figure who has so much power over her, just like all the others of her kind... how she, silly, fuzzy, puffy, Princess Adila could possibly convince her to...
THERE!
She charges. She snatches a notepad and pencil from the nearest goblin. Handwriting is, yes, an issue - everything is misized for her and her light is still too weak to hold it on her behalf. She grips the pencil in her mouth and strives with all her might to write a message. Words that she can't say, words that she can hardly think, words that can turn aside this dark fate and plead for some sort of alternative that doesn't involve risking dear Alina and imprisoning someone else for ever and ever...
She finishes her message, brushes the fur out of her eyes, and holds it up so that Princess Adila I can see exactly what it is she's written.
It's a picture of a ball. Arrows are pointing at the ball. Crude letters below the ball read PLAY BAL. There is a little picture of herself there too, with the subtitle GOOD AT BAL, and arrows pointing from one to the other just so the message is completely clearly communicated.
[Talk sense with wisdom: 1, 1, +1 = 3. THERE ARE NO BRAKES ON THE FAIL TRAIN]
But the words aren't there and there's fur in her eyes - so much fur, she feels like a gigantic ball of black wool. She stumbles forwards blindly, trying to think in tones that weren't just saddened whining, trying to think about how to ask the powerful, cold, distant, aloof figure who has so much power over her, just like all the others of her kind... how she, silly, fuzzy, puffy, Princess Adila could possibly convince her to...
THERE!
She charges. She snatches a notepad and pencil from the nearest goblin. Handwriting is, yes, an issue - everything is misized for her and her light is still too weak to hold it on her behalf. She grips the pencil in her mouth and strives with all her might to write a message. Words that she can't say, words that she can hardly think, words that can turn aside this dark fate and plead for some sort of alternative that doesn't involve risking dear Alina and imprisoning someone else for ever and ever...
She finishes her message, brushes the fur out of her eyes, and holds it up so that Princess Adila I can see exactly what it is she's written.
It's a picture of a ball. Arrows are pointing at the ball. Crude letters below the ball read PLAY BAL. There is a little picture of herself there too, with the subtitle GOOD AT BAL, and arrows pointing from one to the other just so the message is completely clearly communicated.
[Talk sense with wisdom: 1, 1, +1 = 3. THERE ARE NO BRAKES ON THE FAIL TRAIN]
Adila came to a halt. Sat down on her haunches. Another piece of popcorn hit her, and then another. She radiated a wordless stubbornness even as the impacts continued.
What are you doing? Go! We need to get through them!
She cocked her head, raising an eyebrow.
Fine! Yes! I am talking to you now.
Adila stood up, stretched languidly, and began to trot around the ring in a circle. She loved watching the horses when the circus came to the Bazaar. The way their manes tossed, their haughty raised noses, the way they'd turn on a dime. She followed in the example of their steady grace one flouncing step at a time. The rancor of the crowd began to settle as they waited for the show.
You are off centre. Unfocused. Distracted in your mission. Deal with matters of the heart later.
Adila scoffed, a contemptuous too-canine snort, and picked up speed. She ducked her head low, focused on the ball, and bounced it up to balance on the tip of her nose, still maintaining her canter.
It is not the same thing - urgh. You really are a princess, aren't you? I thought I trained you better.
Adila let the ball roll down her nose down along her crest. She flattened her crest just below it and raised it as it rolled, allowing her to very slightly grip it and hold it in place as needed. It rolled along her back smoothly, seeming to magically halt at certain points - especially when she needed to make hard turns. It rolled down her curling tail and with a flick passed back up to her nose.
Your... friend... will understand. I suspect that she was upset mostly by the implication that you didn't fight for her when you had the chance. Moreover, I do not believe you truly had that chance and you were just casting your own actions in an unfair light. The machinist was naturally talented at the craft.
Adila leapt into the air and smoothly bat the ball with the tip of her tail. It sailed through the flaming hoop with a swish.
Of course it's foolish that you like her! She has weaponized her insecurities and will lash out at anyone who even tries to come close. I am honestly amazed that she was able to put up with you for that long given how tenuously she was holding everything together. I was certain that she'd dispatch you on some suicidal errand and be done with you but... well, she didn't. I suppose she was better than I gave her credit for. And... she said that she could cross the void without harm. I don't... know what that would be...
The first few leaps through the hoop had just been a warm-up. Now she'd reached out with her tail to the trapezes and lifted herself up into the air by it. Why hadn't she thought of this? So long as the ropes were strong enough to support her she could act with the strange fluid grace of almost-flight. Humans seemed like they were made to dance and climb amidst the ropes but her body was built to understand the mechanics of flight, and no swirls or flips could dizzy her.
And Iron Star is a dangerous menace and always has been. You know that not every devil takes Do As Thou Wilt seriously? They're kept in slums and district-prisons because they defy the laws of Devilhome, too willing to follow and serve in defiance of the law. Most devils are like that, punished for their lack of ambition. But Iron Star is a believer. She follows the law faithfully, and in so doing she has become a princess of their kind and those are perilous beyond compare. I should know, one of my closest allies was a devil princess. But that was different! There the peril was safeguarded by a love I still honour.
Adila finally plunged, spinning from the rooftops down towards the ring. She caught it with the tip of her tail and wrapped around it, looping around the ring one, two, three times, fires spreading along her tail. She leaped free and landed in the centre of the audience, surrounded by glittering embers, listening to the applause rise.
... and no. That's not an endorsement. I... made use of love, yes. I understand the potency of it. But it is a weapon that bites harder than it heals. You might not be able to avoid it all together but you should still... restrain it. Expose yourself to it as little as possible. Reduce the risk of disaster.
[Marking the second use of my Ancestral Spirit to Speak Softly with Adila 1: 5
- What would she have us do next?
- What can she tell me about her feelings towards Eupheria?
- What does she want, and how could I help her get it?
What are you doing? Go! We need to get through them!
She cocked her head, raising an eyebrow.
Fine! Yes! I am talking to you now.
Adila stood up, stretched languidly, and began to trot around the ring in a circle. She loved watching the horses when the circus came to the Bazaar. The way their manes tossed, their haughty raised noses, the way they'd turn on a dime. She followed in the example of their steady grace one flouncing step at a time. The rancor of the crowd began to settle as they waited for the show.
You are off centre. Unfocused. Distracted in your mission. Deal with matters of the heart later.
Adila scoffed, a contemptuous too-canine snort, and picked up speed. She ducked her head low, focused on the ball, and bounced it up to balance on the tip of her nose, still maintaining her canter.
It is not the same thing - urgh. You really are a princess, aren't you? I thought I trained you better.
Adila let the ball roll down her nose down along her crest. She flattened her crest just below it and raised it as it rolled, allowing her to very slightly grip it and hold it in place as needed. It rolled along her back smoothly, seeming to magically halt at certain points - especially when she needed to make hard turns. It rolled down her curling tail and with a flick passed back up to her nose.
Your... friend... will understand. I suspect that she was upset mostly by the implication that you didn't fight for her when you had the chance. Moreover, I do not believe you truly had that chance and you were just casting your own actions in an unfair light. The machinist was naturally talented at the craft.
Adila leapt into the air and smoothly bat the ball with the tip of her tail. It sailed through the flaming hoop with a swish.
Of course it's foolish that you like her! She has weaponized her insecurities and will lash out at anyone who even tries to come close. I am honestly amazed that she was able to put up with you for that long given how tenuously she was holding everything together. I was certain that she'd dispatch you on some suicidal errand and be done with you but... well, she didn't. I suppose she was better than I gave her credit for. And... she said that she could cross the void without harm. I don't... know what that would be...
The first few leaps through the hoop had just been a warm-up. Now she'd reached out with her tail to the trapezes and lifted herself up into the air by it. Why hadn't she thought of this? So long as the ropes were strong enough to support her she could act with the strange fluid grace of almost-flight. Humans seemed like they were made to dance and climb amidst the ropes but her body was built to understand the mechanics of flight, and no swirls or flips could dizzy her.
And Iron Star is a dangerous menace and always has been. You know that not every devil takes Do As Thou Wilt seriously? They're kept in slums and district-prisons because they defy the laws of Devilhome, too willing to follow and serve in defiance of the law. Most devils are like that, punished for their lack of ambition. But Iron Star is a believer. She follows the law faithfully, and in so doing she has become a princess of their kind and those are perilous beyond compare. I should know, one of my closest allies was a devil princess. But that was different! There the peril was safeguarded by a love I still honour.
Adila finally plunged, spinning from the rooftops down towards the ring. She caught it with the tip of her tail and wrapped around it, looping around the ring one, two, three times, fires spreading along her tail. She leaped free and landed in the centre of the audience, surrounded by glittering embers, listening to the applause rise.
... and no. That's not an endorsement. I... made use of love, yes. I understand the potency of it. But it is a weapon that bites harder than it heals. You might not be able to avoid it all together but you should still... restrain it. Expose yourself to it as little as possible. Reduce the risk of disaster.
[Marking the second use of my Ancestral Spirit to Speak Softly with Adila 1: 5
- What would she have us do next?
- What can she tell me about her feelings towards Eupheria?
- What does she want, and how could I help her get it?
Errant!
You're close.
Invisible agents emerge from ambush, multi-rifles blaring. Corridor after corridor is blocked with barricades, turrets, sealed doors. An agent on a motorcycle tries to run you down with a lance. There are entire systems calibrated precisely against your hardware, teams who have trained against you across their entire careers and have winning records to show for it.
But something's different. Today you're more than just your hardware specs. Today you're running on sunlight. You know every curve of this place as well as it knows you.
Better, even. It's forgotten itself. You haven't. And maybe that's it? Maybe it's more than your heart being ablaze, your limbs blessed with new responsiveness. Maybe their hearts just aren't in it. Maybe they know things aren't right here either.
You hit the lobby.
Just beyond is @Sarahphim, between you and the destination tree.
"Whaaaat's this?" said Angel-IKA from the commentary booth. "It looks like the match is being hijacked by the vigilante known as Brainstorm!"
"I heard he was a supervillain now," said Locker.
"A friend of mine told me that 'supervillain' was a political label given to anyone who tries to change the system against the will of the entrenched interests," said Angel-IKA.
"Well he's definitely holding his own. To everyone out there who slept on my boy: I told you so."
You're holding your own. More than that. You're making it look good. Take a powerful blow while you're at it, Victor, but the digital scoreboard has updated to include a third team's name: THE SUPERVILLAINS, and you, alone, are in the lead. You can hear the crowd start to shift. Aristeia! inherited a lot of professional wrestling DNA, and this is the sort of twist that audiences absolutely love.
But then the skylight shatters.
Spiral Corps goons in power armour start rappelling in from the ceiling, landing around all over the Hexadrome, combi-rifles aimed, various superpowers flaring. Flying troopers drop in and orient, looking around for the commentary booth.
The scoreboard adjusts. It adds these goons to your team.
A prepared and ready Megagoon team isn't anything to sneeze at, Ferra. They know there are supers on site, and the Professor has a reputation for heroism all of her own. Media's all over your new powers too so there are no surprises for them, their gear's annoyingly low-tech and unpowered. You need to take them on with just you brain and your fists and stop them from bailing the Professor into the portal.
Tell me a bit about how you do it, and the powerful blow you take in the process.
You're close.
Invisible agents emerge from ambush, multi-rifles blaring. Corridor after corridor is blocked with barricades, turrets, sealed doors. An agent on a motorcycle tries to run you down with a lance. There are entire systems calibrated precisely against your hardware, teams who have trained against you across their entire careers and have winning records to show for it.
But something's different. Today you're more than just your hardware specs. Today you're running on sunlight. You know every curve of this place as well as it knows you.
Better, even. It's forgotten itself. You haven't. And maybe that's it? Maybe it's more than your heart being ablaze, your limbs blessed with new responsiveness. Maybe their hearts just aren't in it. Maybe they know things aren't right here either.
You hit the lobby.
Just beyond is @Sarahphim, between you and the destination tree.
What would @SARAHPPHIM do?
"Hmm. Eight on one doesn't seem too fair." Then he sprints forward, and runs straight up and over the samurai--knee, groin, solar plexus, finish with a kickflip that sends the helmet soaring into the face of the bull coming in for a grab behind him. "Maybe try sixteen."
Then it's a melee. Samuwrong's on the ground, and the bull--eight feet tall, with horns--is none too happy with his black eye. Redirect his blows, don't try to absorb, that's Errant's trick. The one--looks like an angel, almost--rises on electric wings, calibrating for a shot, and he wishes he'd had more than half a second to determine which freaks were on which side, and that he could go all out without fear of A) unmasking himself or B) actually seriously injuring someone. I mean, medical bots are on standby, so really, B) is a nonissue, but he can feel the gaze of dozens of cameras, from every angle.
Surviving. Surviving is good.
"So!" he shouts, dodging the angel's cannon blasts, "it feels like y'all have some pent-up aggression issues. Anyone want to join me after the match for some good-old-fashioned villain punch-ups?"
[Directly engage: 9. Dismay or Impress.]
"Whaaaat's this?" said Angel-IKA from the commentary booth. "It looks like the match is being hijacked by the vigilante known as Brainstorm!"
"I heard he was a supervillain now," said Locker.
"A friend of mine told me that 'supervillain' was a political label given to anyone who tries to change the system against the will of the entrenched interests," said Angel-IKA.
"Well he's definitely holding his own. To everyone out there who slept on my boy: I told you so."
You're holding your own. More than that. You're making it look good. Take a powerful blow while you're at it, Victor, but the digital scoreboard has updated to include a third team's name: THE SUPERVILLAINS, and you, alone, are in the lead. You can hear the crowd start to shift. Aristeia! inherited a lot of professional wrestling DNA, and this is the sort of twist that audiences absolutely love.
But then the skylight shatters.
Spiral Corps goons in power armour start rappelling in from the ceiling, landing around all over the Hexadrome, combi-rifles aimed, various superpowers flaring. Flying troopers drop in and orient, looking around for the commentary booth.
The scoreboard adjusts. It adds these goons to your team.
[11 to Reject, cancelling influence and shifting danger up, superior right back down]
She laughs, bitterly. "I have a name. And, to put it mildly? No." She starts to glow, her own hue of blue, not Comstar's pink, and so does the one holding Professor Gears. "Let's go, I have a schedule." And launches right into the violence, appropriating a rifle and using it to disable.
[8 with the new danger and the +1 forward on engage, taking back Professor Gears]
A prepared and ready Megagoon team isn't anything to sneeze at, Ferra. They know there are supers on site, and the Professor has a reputation for heroism all of her own. Media's all over your new powers too so there are no surprises for them, their gear's annoyingly low-tech and unpowered. You need to take them on with just you brain and your fists and stop them from bailing the Professor into the portal.
Tell me a bit about how you do it, and the powerful blow you take in the process.
And yet that is precisely what I have done.
You're roused from contemplation. It feels like an age later. Without focus and attention your body conserves blood, shedding even the illusion of life. Your limbs are like wood, you feel as stiff and ancient as the chair you sit in. The crackling fire gives you no warmth. You're hungry. It's so rare for you not to be hungry.
But there are sounds outside. The sound of heartbeats, audible even over the fire and footsteps. Prey walking into your lair, tangled and emotional and chaotic. Disorganized. You are roused, and in moments, you will be ready to hunt.
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