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EternalPhoenix

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About EternalPhoenix

  • Rank
    Doesn't Always Know What He's Doing
  • Birthday 07/08/1986

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  • Location
    Curtis Bay, MD
  • Interests
    Wide and varied

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  1. Pacer blinked, momentarily confused. “Oh, is that what you meant? I thought that was, like, your name. See, when I’m dressed like this my name is Pacer. When I’m not it’s something else. It’s a superhero thing. Dunno about a ‘people”, but I’m from Earth. Got an aunt, uncle, brother. None of ‘em are like me, though. Planet full of slowpokes.” She blew air out through her lips. “S’lame.” Oh, hello understatement. We meet again. But before she could dwell on that, Bolt Hole was waaaay too close. So Pacer instinctively moved about a yard away. At top speed. “Personal space, Bolt Hole. Maybe you don’t like having it, but I do.” Was that whispering creepy? Did she not know what they were talking about? Yes, and yes.
  2. I didn't even know this was here.
  3. Pacer did not crank the throttle all the way up with the Rhino man. No reason to, really. Most people didn’t see it when she ran. The cosmic energy crackling off her. It was only there when she cranked it up past hypersonic, anyway. But Rhino man and the black light would certainly see it, and so would anyone else who bothered to look. Then the Rhino man greeted her with his name, and the black light did it’s best. She stopped dead in front of them, energy dissipating back into her as if it never was. The former (Kasi of the Endless Plains, apparently) had 3 feet and probably like a full ton on Pacer. So she looked all the way up at him. “Man, you’re huge. Got some speed, tho. Neat. I’m Pacer. Not ‘of’ anywhere. Just Pacer.” And at the black light. “Mmm. Don’t speak whatever that was, bro. So Bolt Hole it is.” Following her train of thought was often just as challenging as following her in the flesh. Lightning Bolt+Black Hole, for the record.
  4. Embarrassingly, they no longer spoke German. The weapons fire stopped. “Doctor?” Came a very confused voice. When Miracle Girl turned to look at Terrifica, she was not there. For Terrifica had fired her grapple gun and ascended to the roof. “<Death to the Scions of Voltage!>” Her Mandarin was of course flawless, being her first language. And the heavy particle weapon that was the Terrifi-Cannon (part of her staff) also made an impact. On the street behind the henchteam. The hole was big, the reaction immediate. For like all proper mad scientists, Doctor Voltenstein had a rival. The self styled epitome of terror and doctor of mayhem, the Meteor Dragon. He worked with gravitics during the same period. He was also assumed dead after trying to pull down the moon and only succeeding in getting the Centurion to assault his lab. The machine overloaded and blew the lab to bits. The henchteam whirled to face the new threat. “Doctor, we are under attack! Aid us!” That ought to do it.
  5. Queenie’s silvery hand was held up in a placating gesture. “We don’t even know what you’re doing. How do you know…” And then they were somewhere else. “…that we’d interfere at all.” The silvery hand made a very rude gesture and disappeared. “I really, really hate it when they refuse to even listen.” Explosions did not penetrate her ire. “Where in blazes are we now?” She flew high into the air, forcefield still on (she was aware this appeared to be a warzone, she just didn’t care at the moment) and consulted the Aura Compass effect of the Ring. It would tell her the direction and distance of their previous location. “Teleport me into a warzone, will he?” It also had date/time functionality, but she wasn’t looking at that. “Do something about the battle first, then back to give that jerk a piece of my mind.”
  6. Mona was instantly dressed as Pacer. “Neat.” And then she wasn’t beside the glowing horse man anymore. She zipped around the entire area. Was she checking out the competition? Nah. That would require her considering them competition in the first place. No, they were all far from human looking and she wanted to get a real good look at the freakishness. It wasn’t like…racism, or whatever. Pacer was always craving something new and different to think about. And boy, were all the other contestants new and different. All new and all different, one could say.
  7. Terrifica laughed, which anyone else would find very weird. “Heavens, no. The mad scientist…what his name? A moment. Things do get misfiled in here occasionally.” She rifled through her mental files. “Ah, Doctor Voltenstein. He froze himself in the 50s. Those were his henchmen. Well, their descendants. Talk about devotion.” Three years ago “I’m certain now. They’re completely insane.” Terrifica and Miracle Girl were not in Freedom City. This was just outside Boston. They had momentarily taken cover around the corner of a building. Terrifica had a lead on an old weapons cache deposited back in the 50s. A mad scientist super villain shut down by the Liberty League right before the McCarthy hearings. Ordinarily, Terrifica wouldn’t care enough to go find them. She’d have tagged them for AEGIS and gotten on with her day, but apparently his henchteam was still around. And still packing some of their firepower. They cackled madly as they fired off Gauss rifles and flung electro mines and magnetic frag grenades. “Okay, we’re not doing this. Miracle Girl, if you would?”
  8. May 28, 2019. Freedom City. Bayside Mall. 2 AM. The police lights were bright as they hauled the weapons traffickers away. Terrifica was tired. She turned to go, and she was not alone. Her partner, Miracle Girl, was by her side. “That was profoundly annoying.” MG sighed. “Tell me about it. Did they really have to break out the-” “Heavy plasma cannon?” Terrifica indicated her half incinerated longcoat. “I believe the phrase is, ‘you’re preaching to the choir.’ I liked this coat.” MG smiled, amused. “No, I was talking about the electro mines. That last one hurt.” They reached the Terrifi-cycle, and Terrifica leaned against it. “They had more than one of those? I was too busy punching them to notice. Ah, and that reminds me. It was…ugh, three years ago now. Electro mines, gauss rifles, magnetic frag grenades.” She smiled while sighed contentedly. “I do so like it when the wannabes have a theme and stick to it. Do you remember?”
  9. Caroline hesitated, then realized nobody knew her history in this town anyway. Well, one. “You can call me Jette.” She hadn’t moved from her spot leaning against the wall. Her expression was still suspicious. “Though 1) Bedlam doesn’t have ‘sexy cat burglars’ and 2) it doesn’t have heroes either. At least not the way other cities see them. So forgive me if I don’t believe you.” Honestly, she was getting a “secret agent” vibe. But that didn’t explain being dumped in a lake. Something tickled at the edge of her awareness. A memory of…something. “Oh, thing number three. Don’t get arrested in this town. Cops aren’t nice people, most of them.”
  10. “Both valid questions.” Caroline was leaning against the door to the stairs, arms folded. She hadn’t expected the large jump, but she could fly…so whatever. She’d donned the mask and wig of JETTE before flying, of course, and they were still on. “Living bodies don’t come out of the lake every day. In fact, they’re almost always dead.” She eyed both of them up and down. “So, you’re both supers. Neat. The lady can breathe underwater and has extra bendy arms so I’m gonna take a wild guess and say some of her DNA isn’t human.” She looked directly at John. “You, on the other hand, are a bigger question mark. Heck of a jump there, slick.”
  11. … …****. The woman was alive. That changed things. People didn’t end up face down in the lake on their own. Not in Bedlam. Caroline scanned the area. It bothered her, a young woman thrown away like trash. And it bothered her it that it bothered her. And her head was still being pounded with ball peen hammers. She didn’t want to get involved. This, like so many other things in this piece of **** town, was not her problem. So why was she hanging around? Hell, she could at least trail them to the clinic. What else did she have to do today?
  12. Why was Caroline at the docks? Oh, it was a long story. Involving a missing longshoreman (dead), his mistress (also dead), and their mafia connection (surprisingly not dead). The details were so, so Bedlam that reflecting on them would be entirely too depressing. After wrapping the case (with the wife ever so shockingly refusing to pay the fees she’d agreed to in the first place meaning a little convincing was required), Caroline had felt the need for a stiff drink or seven. She’d hooked up with a bartender in the docks, and so she even had a place to sleep it off. Now she was awake, hungover, and as such in a pissy-ier mood than usual. She was going to walk/fly home, but then some jack*** felt the need to yell so early in the morning. “That’s not news, old man! Let the cops deal with it!” Swear to Jeebus. A body in the lake was a weekly occurrence, if not more. Caroline neither knew nor cared. Okay, that was a lie. If she didn't care at all, she'd drink less.
  13. Yeah, I'm up for it. But I don't know what second sentence means.
  14. Yes, let's do a thing with Caroline.
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